Day one starts out with a threat of rain. So while heading generally south, I dodge west any time storm clouds appear directly ahead. Indiana is, as always, flat and boring with most every road straight as a ruler. Least of all I am determined to find someplace interesting to eat as I have skipped lunch in my haste to depart. So my first goal is fullfilled at the Potbelly Sandwich Works just down the road from Perdue University. Ref:  www.potbelly.com .

Further south, along highway IN57, I am passed by first an ambulance, then a police cruiser. Then traffic comes to a halt ahead of me. Some of the locals seem to know a way around and I follow them. It comes out just barely ahead of the smash-up. There are bikes parked there so I stop to inquire. But no, it is two cars that have hit one another...head on, no less. I snap one pic to go with the tale, and turn around south again.

For quite some distance I can see a parasailor enjoying the skyways. When I get close enough, I snap thier photo too. I stop for the night in Evansville, IN hopping over the river for my dinner in Henderson, KY at a Tumbleweed restaurant, which is a chain, but not one we have in Michigan. Interesting decor inside.

US-231 in IN Potbelly Sandwich Works Accident on Hwy-57 Parasailor

Tumbleweed restaurant

On day two I cross over the Wabash river into Illinois. I have skipped breakfast, so take an early lunch in Marion, chosen for its obvious good taste since there is a white Royal Star Venture parked outside. I meet the riders (couple facing camera) and we have a nice little chat.

Hwy-62 IN Wabash Memorial Bridge Hwy-13 IL Fellow bikers in Marion IL

At Carbondale I turn south to follow the Missouri River. I spy what looks to be a bridge in the distance, and one not mentioned on my Rand McNally atlas. Thinking to double-cross the river, I thread my way to it, finding it to be a bridge for pipes only, and not any vehicles. Further south I come to the real bridge at Cape Girardeau.

Some of the smaller towns here abouts have Egyptian names: Cairo, Thebes, etc. I stop to look at my atlas. Do I want to cross here, or not? A fellow named Harv stops to see if I am in trouble. He invites me to the Garden Inn in Cairo for a cold one. I accept. I took his picture, but I should have used flash as the sun was not well positioned, so that his face was too much in shadow, and it did not turn out well. Sorry Harv...

NG Pipeline Bridge at Cape Girardeau MO Bridge at Thebes IL

Hwy-3 IL Hwy-3 near Cache IL Hwy-146 IL

I loop back north and east, crossing the Ohio into Kentucky via ferry at a place called Cave In Rock. Then I cut down south again via a scenic highway called simply The Trace which carries me into Tennessee. Along the way I find an interesting ruin, the Great Western Furnace, used for smelting iron for just 34 weeks during 1854-55. Remaining is just the bottom part, where the fires were stoked. Atop there had been a chimney and a wooden structure where the work was performed.

Ferry at Cave In Rock IL Coal barge Hwy-120 KY Great Western Furnace

Now it is getting on toward evening. So checking my atlas, I swing east searching a place to spend the night. Most of US-79 is under construction. Nor do I note any motels near points of interest, such as a restaurant, perhaps?

It is well after dark when I pull into Clarksville. Hardly anyplace is open for dinner. After unpacking the bike at a cheap motel, I go a hunting, but find mostly everything either closed or closing. I end up at Big Al’s Tennessee Tavern, a karaoke bar. I order a Coke at the bar and ask for a menu. She tells me that I may help myself to free hotdogs at the end of the bar. One of the performers does a passible Loretta Lynn, but most of the rest are what you’d expect.

Day three is very fine, sunny and hot. Not very far to go this morning as today will be my long awaited re-acquaintence with yet another old navy buddy, Aaron Sissom, whom I knew from Okinawa in 1975-76. Consulting the atlas I pick just a few promising back roads curving around the center of Nashville to come out near the airport. I take a pork BBQ sandwich for lunch in Cross Plaines, which is very good, just about right, not overly sweet like you sometimes get.

I pull into Nashville near the airport per Arron’s instruction, stopping at a Huddle House with its great, towering yellow sign (so easy to find) and leave several messages, one at each of the numbers he gave me. Then I go inside to wait. It is not time at all when the waitress informs me that I have a call. As turns out, I am just two miles away from his house!

Next the reunion. Arron Sissom has done well for himself. After 20 years in the navy, he is now president of Music City Marketing in Nashville, a primere importer of tobacco and related products. Seen below is part of his warehouse.

US-41 TN True’s BBQ Arron’s business

Among other things, Arron imports some unbelievably rare and expensive pipes for the true and nobly dedicated tobacco conneseur. Shown is a $1050, impeccably carved briar bowl. His top-of-the-line model is a $10,000 (no typo!) pipe with tasteful touches of carved Mammoth ivory. Truely a must-have for any self-respecting collector. His business may be found online at  www.musiccitymarketing.com . Check it out!

And look! Just like me, Arron still has his club colors from our motorcycle days in Okinawa. And now I’m thinking that I should have brought mine as I can still fit into it. But Arron somehow managed to gain six and more inches in height since I last laid eyes upon him. This comes as a great surprise as I had used to look him straight in the eye. Now he towers over me. Clean living? Knowing Arron, I’m quite sure it can’t have been that. You’d never have guessed it to look at him then, so clean and innocent-looking he was, but all the lies that other sailors used to tell of drinking and wenching all night long, then working through the day...well Arron had actually managed to live them. He would ride his Honda 550 back in from town to the barracks in the wee hours, shower and dress, then stumble out to fall dead asleep in the back of the truck while we were just getting up for breakfast. And he was the yeoman! Put all us minemen to shame. There he’d be, looking all clean cut and respectable, ready for inspection and that stupid one-mile run Lt. Dunn made us do every morning. At one point, Arron was even dating the base commander’s daughter, with her father’s approval, no less. It just goes to show...I don’t know what...but something, anyway.

$1050 briar pipe Arron Sissom The Parthenon

Next he takes me on a guided tour of Nashville, pointing out the homes of Minnie Pearl and others. Property values are going through the roof around there, such that perfectly nice homes on spacious lots are being torn down to cram in tight brick units with no yard at all (two and three where one may have fomerly stood). It is a shame, I think. Later this evening Arron treats me to BBQ at Famous Dave’s, where the beef brisquet proves most excellent fare.

After our BBQ feast we cruise through downtown Nashville seeing the sights. It is a Monday night and not too very much is going on, as Arron tells it, compared to the weekend. Still it is nowhere near closed down, about like Kalamazoo on a busier night. And wholly unexpected is a full size replica of the Parthenon, which is funny as my son has only just returned from seeing the original in Greece. This one is in much better shape.

Now Arron, if only I can pursuade you to write up some of your stories from the old days. One or two might well be kept secret. But many another had ought to be shared: the escapade over P. O. Dunn’s officers only toilet; Hudsel and the $20 loan for shoes; the taxi ride; etc. Those at a minimmum are legends which truely belong on the minemen.us website. Speaking of which, here is a photo of Arron from that URL, our misspent youth, so to speak:  1975 

Alas that it was but a short, one-day visit. My own fault for not having scheduled this trip to Arron’s best convenience. He has just gotten back from an out-of-state trip, and work beckons heartlessly. So after just one evening of swapping stories of the old days, his time is all but spoken for. Yet having me ride in on a bike, Arron has gotten the bug again, so we stop by a dealership on our way to breakfast next morning. He is thinking to maybe ride up to Michigan and visit me in a year or so. Or else we’ll manage a trip together. I hint at at James Bay in Canada. Or better yet, maybe out to Texas for a reunion with Bob Mullins? Wouldn’t that be a kick? It was Bob and I who taught Arron how to drive, if you can believe it.

Day four makes a very shout ride, as it is not far at all from Nashville TN to Somerville AL. I have to get creative with the Rand McNally so as to enjoy a twisty route through the mountains for what little there is of it.

Hwy-96 TN US-64 TN

My schedule for this trip is mainly centered on my nice, Lura’s wedding, in Somerville AL. I spend a week at my sister’s house while it all comes together. Below are pics from before, and just immediately before...the wedding.

Hours before her wedding Ethan Shelton Lura at her wedding

And here are pics from the reception which follows the wedding. Skajler is enjoying himself particulary as they are serving his second favorite dish: peel-and-eat shrimp, fifteen plates worth.

Skajler at Lura’s reception Bride’s maids Bride’s maids

As things wind down and we are packing up, someone arms Skajler with a bubble blowing kit and he makes the most of it. So does Adrianna, who is Scott’s niece (the daughter of Chuck who is my sister Patti’s husband’s brother). Chuck and Adrianna also stayed with Patti and Scott during the interim. Chuck regaled us with many a breakfast which we all very much enjoyed.

Skajler, me, Lura and Brian Skajler blowing bubbles Adrianna blowing bubbles

On the day after the wedding we all relax. I walk up and down the street in front of Patti’s house listening to a book on CD. I am outside in avoidance of the telelphone and televisioni but am accosted by a small bird, a killdeer, who follows me relentlessly, jabbering imprecations. Shown are my sister Patti’s house and her pets.

There is also an unfortunate incident left over from last night, an Arometrics Fragrance System (automotive air freshener) has leaked, its solvent base having peeled the paint right off from the dashboard. It is the only black mark upon the whole occasion. Now I have to ask, what kind of very poor design is that? Don’t they test these things? The truck is brand new, just a week or so old. Now the dash is ugly as sin. My sister is very, very upset. These things should be recalled! Here is a link:  www.arometrics.com 

Killdeer Patti’s house Gatsby, Bentley, Juno, Dice and Darty Arometrics Fragrance System

Today Skajler and I must entertain ourselves as my sister has her day accounted for. Scott, Patti’s husband, is lending us the truck (which still is rather, err, aromatic from the freshener incident) for trip to Huntsville to see the Space and Rocket Center. Shown below are the pictures we took there..

Skajler by capsule Skajler piloting a rocket Skajler launching a missile Skajler by rocket launcher Rockets in Huntsville AL

Lunar lander Skajler landing the shuttle Skajler by rocket engine

After a partly hectic week at my sister’s place, I am off for the rest of my motorcycle adventure. A while back my wife and I rode down together and gotten this far on the Natchez Trace scenic parkway. I have determined to finish that route if only for the sake of completeness. And besides, it is right here handy.

Natchez Trace AL Natchez Trace AL Natchez Trace AL

The parkway only goes through the NW corner of Alabama. From here it leads quite deeply into Mississippi. There are indian mounds and all kinds of pleasant scenery as well as some historic buildings.

Bynum Mounds Natchez Trace MS Drane House Natchez Trace MS French Camp Natchez Trace AL

I come out of the parkway right about sundown, fill up at a gas station, and ask directions toward the nearest motels. Then I set down for dinner at Shoney’s. The onion rings are unexpectedly good, and even rather prettily arranged.

Pearl River Resivoir near Jackson MS Dinner at Shoneys

Day two of the second leg of my journey takes me from Mississippi (seen below) into Louisianna. At one point I came upon five or six buzzards having a conference in the middle of the oncoming lane. I stop to try to grab a photo, but it spooks them so that I only get a shot (not shown) of their backsides has they hop and flap toward curbside. Highway US-61 is fairly empty this time of the morning.

US-61 MS US-61 MS

I cross the Mississippi River via ferry at St.¡Francisville. Last time I was surprised to come across a ferry on the Ohio. But that was interesting enough that I have actually planned for this one. It is my end-point destination, chosen from the Rand McNally atlas last night at bedtime.

St Francisville LA Mississippi River from St Francisville LA Ferry on Mississippi River Ferry at New Roads LA

Stopping for gas in Simesport LA, I drag out the atlas. This present road, Hwy-1, has green dots but only goes as far as Alexandria (another Egyptian name). And I’d kind of like to hug the river. So I enquire after Hwy-15 with the girl at the register. She says it is nice enough, but kind of curvy. Excellent! So I double back about seven miles.

Hwy-15 is curvy, alright. At one point I encounter a UPS truck whipping, too fast, coming my way and half in my lane. Gulp! Seeing me he yanks it so hard back into his own lane that it sinks so far down into the springs on the outside I am fearing he might lift the inside wheels and plop it right down on top of me. But that doesn’t happen...quite. In the heat of the day my journey had been getting almost sleepy, even with the curves. But now I am wide awake.

I come upon a strange looking, bridge-like thing. The sign even says, Do not stop on bridge. But it turns out to be a lock. Camera ever-ready in my pocket (a tiny, Minolta DiMage Xt) I think I can get away with a five-second halt. I do that but just as I am snapping the picture, they blow the air-horn at me. So the alignment is just a tad crooked. Further on there is a spillway and some other interesting works by the Army Corps of Engineers.

Hwy-15 LA Lock near Black Hawk LA Old barges at left Dam on Hwy-15 LA

I come round again to the bridge at Natchez MS, cross over and back again on a lark. Then it is up along US-65 on the Lousianna side of the Mighty Mississip. And here I come upon Transylvannia. Thought that was over in Eastern Europe someplace near Walachia

Time for a history lesson, Brahm Stoker got turned around somehow on the highway of his researches. Vlad the Impaler, (aka The Dragon, aka Count Dracula, et cetera) was ruler of a demense centered on Walachia, not Transylvania (a neighboring region). Call it editorial license. But I thought you’d like to know...if only to better laugh at all those rediculous Goth groupies who’ve gotten it all so absurdly wrong.

Bridge at Natchez MS US-65 Transylvania LA US-65 Lake Providence

I cut across the far SE corner of Arkansas and now find another interesting old bridge where I cross back again into Mississippi and up along the east bank on Hwy-1 on for a stretch. Then it is back again over into Arkansas at Helena. Here I can tell the river stays close to hand, both on account of the map, and other, more audiotory signals. So stopping for fuel I inquire as to where I might snap some pictures. Turns out there is a very nice riverside park just a couple of blocks away and then over the levy.

US-82 over Mississippi Hwy-1 MS Bridge at Helena AR

I had taken some pictures of what I had then thought was an amazing overgrowth of kuzu near my sister’s house. But I have not included those as here is a much better one form Helena Arkansas. It grows all the way up the very steep hill and up into the radio tower atop. Would that I had better light for my photo. But it is late evening already. And out of several shots taken, this is the best that I can get. Very soon it will be dark.

Kudzu on radio tower

Lastly, but not shown, I see a portrait of the Rat Fink. Only those who were ardent funny-car drag-race fans of the middle sixties will even remember what that is. But there is an air brush studio in an old gas station which advertises that they will paint anything onto anything. And this proves it if nothing else does. Know that as a kid I had used to collect Rat Fink paraphernalia: T-shirts, a big comb with all the teeth knarled and point different ways as if it had be burnt in a fire, that kind of junk. You used to see Rat Fink images in Hot Rod magazine. He was a stand up, pot bellied, very ratty looking rat. And oh so popular. I do not remember why. But still I recognize him after all these years he is so distincitive.

My evening ride runs on into the night. There are no motels to be found anywhere around here. Towns are small, even tiny. I have to press on to Forrest City where US-65 intersects with I-40 where, too tired to hunt around, I grab the first room available in an America’s Best Value motel. The room is okay, but not, I don’t think, America’s best value. Not at $50 a night. Even less as the air conditioning is both noisy and none too effective. Still, I am too tired to shop around further.

Having gotten the bike unloaded, I pop over to a place called Granny’s Place for a hot roast beef sandwich. I am waited upon, not by Granny, but a high school age girl who informs me of tonight’s specials and the fact that the folks at the counter are talking about popping snakes (pulling them till their spine goes pop). I say how mean that is to the snake and she agrees, even though she does not like snakes hereself, but much prefers the loving attentions of her pet Tarantula. What an interesting cap to the evening, yes?

I am looking at my Rand McNally and thinking how the squiggly lines on my website’s SVG map are going to look. Kind of cramped, I am supposing. Time to open it up a bit with a swing westward before too long. So after a bit more of Arkansas’ Hwy-1 I cut left at Harrisburg onto Hwy-14 which proves much more scenic and colorful.

Here there are some sculpted fields which I can only imagine must look something special from an airplane but not so very much to me this close to the ground. Also there is, to me anyways, a mystery crop of some kind which looks like corn below and I don’t know what on top.

Sculpted field along Hwy-14 AR Hwy-14 AR Oil Trough AR Silos Fly repellent

I stop for lunch in Mountain View AK at a place called Joshua’s. The lunch buffet is only so-so to my admittedly pickey pallet. But in their favor I have to say they are not at all stingy with the tomatoes. There is a deep tray of ripe red, sliced tomatoes from which I take pleanty, hardly even making a dent. Somebody must have a really big garden, I suppose.

After lunch I thread my way to Hwy-9 where I swing northward again. It has long since become apparent that I am now in some part of the Ozark Mountains. I am observant that way, after the fact, even though I had paid it no slightest heed in my brief glance at the Rand McNally. My first really serious indication comes from the sign I read next...

At least this time I have entered into it in daylight. The views are spectacular. But alas there is hardly anywhere from which I dare stop to photograph them. Only one or two little places does the shoulder open up so that I may park the bike in safety.

Crooked and steep! Hwy-9 AR -Hwy-19 MO White River-

Know that while Hwy-9 does not look so long on the map, mostly it goes up and down. And not one in ten of the actual squiggles show at all on the Rand McNally. At the crossover into Missouri this road becomes Hwy-19, which is also curvy, but not with near so many shear drops on one side nor cliffs on the other. Part of the way it runs straight, but up and down very like a roller coaster.

From here it runs through the Mark Twain National Forrest and along the White River with many a canoeing and rafting opportunity for those who like to play in the water.

Bridge over White River- Hwy-19 MO Bridge at Hermann MO View of Missouri River

Above are shown my pictures from further along in Missouri. The further I go the more rural it gets until I meet with I-70 leading to St.¡Louis, which is entirely too urban. By this time I am tired to aching with all of the curves and the up and down. The curves are not too hair-pin for cruising faster than I have been going. But they are mostly all blind turns. I won’t go faster than I can see ahead. It is just too nerve-wracking otherwise. So now even though it is dusk, I feel it relaxing to just cruise along with the traffic (which is averaging 85 mph) in the general direction of the big city.

But before I can approach that urban center to centripetally, I swing north again onto Hwy-79. And again I find that I’ve ventured into the land of no-more-motels with evening coming down all around me. The first place of any hope is the Showboat Inn which is advertised for miles and miles on many a billboard. But when I get there the sign says No Vacancy even though the number of empty parking places totals fewer than the apparent number of rooms. I expect that it is a ruse, so that their rest may not be disturbed. I am told that folks do that sometimes. I press on.

It is not until quite some time later, well after dark, in Louisianna (a town, not the state) where I find space at the River’s Edge Motel (which is just that, as advertised). My room actually looks down upon the bridge (which is undergoing rapairs). The parking lot is very steep for a bike and I am reminded of the Rocket Motel in Custer WY several years back. The room is fine. But again there is not a restaurant to be found. I make a meal of root beer and Pop Tarts from a Shell station.

I have decided to make this day my last, after one final hurrah. I have noticed in the Rand McNally that Hannibal MO is right nearby. I shall stop there as I have some shopping to do. I don’t like to come home empty handed from a solo journey. My wife has stayed home this trip as she preferred to use her vacation differently, spending time with our son, Skajler, during spring break, and so forth. Also she is having fun in her play house (next door to ours) as she calls it. She bought it and is fixing it up.

Bridge over Mississippi Barn on Hwy-96 IL Barge on Mississippi Same barge again

So Karen will be expecting an elf gift. And I find one such at a Goldsmith’s shop in Hannibal. It is kind of expensive, but no more so than if I had brough Karen along. It is a sterling silver bracelet: a double-strand of thick, inter-woven links...very flexible...and with an ornate clasp. It is so to her taste that I could hardly have passed it up even were there no special occasion. And besides, our anniversary is coming up on Monday. No more excuses are needed. I fish the VISA out of my wallet and sign.

Tom and Becky

Above are the official Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher of America in Hannibal MO. I told them of this website’s URL. If they find it and care to email me their names, I will so identify them here.

Becky Thatcher’ House The famous fence Lunch in Hannibal MS

Above and below are scenes form Mark Twain’s famous stories. I think now, that having seen them, I will have to rent them on audio CD-ROM sometime soon.

Lovers Leap

The ride home is all via Interstate highways, keeping pace with the traffic at around 80 mph. So not much in the way of scenery to be photograhped. I get home while it is still light and Karen runs out into the driveway to meet me. After a hello kiss I unlock the saddle bag, and suggest to my wife Karen, "Close your eyes and hold out your arm." Thus ends this years motorcycle adventure. Where to next?