Childress, TX - Spring, TX and home
Wouldn't you know it. One of the few mornings on this trip when I didn't automatically wake up before the roosters, and the alarm clock went off at 7:30 a.m. I didn't check it last night, just as I haven't set an alarm for 37 days. Sure enough, it was set. I was waking up without alarms because, like a kid before Christmas, I was eagerly looking forward to see what the next day would bring. That pretty much says how great this trip has been for me. I didn't eagerly awake today because I knew it would be the last day and I wasn't (and still am not) ready for this to end. So...I was sleeping in when the damn thing sent me about three foot off the bed.
With acknowledgement to Robbie Burns ("The best laid schemes o' mice an men gang aft agley"), I didn't take Hwy 6 as planned. Toward the end of yesterday's ride I noted the bike was running a little rough. I decided I may have a slightly fouled plug so I decided to change them. I'd originally packed two plugs in my tool kit but, when I looked I only had one. Not wanting to change one plug (even if only one was slightly fouled...that would probably have indicated a worse problem), I decided I wanted to change both. Can't explain this logically, I just get the now-and-again anal retentive thought and act on it. I couldn't find the correct plug in either Childress or Quanah so I plugged on (pun intended) to Wichita Falls where I got a plug and changed both. Both old plugs appeared quite good for running something like 23k miles, not burning rich, or really fouled. After replacement, the bike did run a little smoother, but there is still a slight vibration at around 75 m.p.h. that I don't think was there before. Of course, it could be the tires also...we'll see.
In any event, my ride down to Wichita Falls forced me into the Ft. Worth-Dallas-Houston interstate maze. I was also reminded what it means to ride in Texas in August. Remember when I was bitchin' about the cold and rain in Alaska? How about yesterday when I just had the rain? All those complaints are withdrawn. I'd have taken yesterday's weather in a heartbeat today. At least it wasn't hot running through those showers. Today was HOT! Dante hot! It was well over 100 degrees and I had to stop about every hour to drink water. That worked, but it was hard riding.
In keeping with my policy to make lemonade whenever required, this route, at least, took me by Woody's in Centerville. Centerville is at mile marker 164 on I-45. And Woody's? Just the best jerky on the planet. Woody's has every kind of jerky you can imagine. It's called the jerky capital of the world. (I thought that was Washington.) Anyway, I stopped in and got some turkey, elk, and buffalo jerky. I thought elk was the best ever until I tasted the buffalo. That was far and away the best I've ever eaten. (No wonder those Indians fought the railroad so hard.)
The problem is how to set it up so you can eat while riding. I stored the majority in a saddlebag, but put some in a plastic bag in my tank bag, strategically placed so I could pull the jerky out one piece at a time with the left hand. That worked fine and I motored my way toward Houston fat, dumb, and happy, just munching away...right up until the last piece. The last piece, it turned out, was small, about three inches long and one-half inch in width. It sort of got hidden in the plastic bag and popped out and up, when I groped through the bag to retrieve it. I'm trying to grab the jerky and the, now, flapping and flying plastic bag, all while riding a motorcycle safely at something like 80 m.p.h. Did it work? Yep. The key is not to panic in these situations...well...that and luck. The wind pushed the jerky up and over to the right side of the gas tank, and it just sort of settled in there, between the tank and the windshield, levitating like a David Copperfield trick card, about two inches above the tank. I managed to stuff the plastic bag back into the tank bag and zip it up, then reached for the jerky. Ah, but that changed the aerodynamics of the jerky levitation trick. When my hand entered the currents supporting the jerky, my luck held though. The jerky lost altitude and, instead of falling off to the inevitable hardtop and required expletive, it fell down on the tank and lodged between the corner of the tankbag and the tank. Knowing luck when I see it, I picked it up and calmly placed it in my mouth; all the while watching the road in front of me and safely negotiating the traffic. Nah!!! Got lucky and lived, and ate, through it!!
After eating all the available jerky I pulled into the house at about 7:30 p.m. tonight ending the most exciting, adventuresome, and trying vacation of my life. Sadly. If I could I would gladly pull out tomorrow for an equivalent trek somewhere else.
