Simple pleasures are the best. Friday, the luckiest girl in Flour Bluff wanted to run away and get some lunch down the road, somewhere. We decide to take the back route to Pop's, at Lamar TX, on the Lamar Peninsula. Here, on the Gulf coast, we have what is called the "sea breeze front", air moving ashore from the Gulf of Mexico in the morning. Thunderstorms usually form a few miles inland, so we took our time getting started, giving the rain time to move further away. To get to Pop's Tavern, we ride around the bay and catch state roads that by-pass the coastal towns north of Corpus Christi. We can see the bridge over Copano (COE-pa-no) Bay just before we get to SH-35. We cross that bridge when we come to it and ride up under clouds blown off the top of a rainstorm many miles to the west (now you know why the seabreeze front was mentioned). We had it made in the shade, as the song goes. We arrived at Pop's place and park in the motorcycle parking lot. There are still overhead doors inside from its "ice house" days but now Pop's is air conditioned, another bit of traditional Texas gone with time and the tide. I thought I was smiling. III thought I was smiling in this picture. The menu at Pop's has expanded over the years, and the dozens of trophy heads and stuffed animals, disappeared, but it is still one of the friendliest places imaginable. The great philosopher, Charlie Daniels, noted that, "People in Texas sure do make you feel at home". Having finished an excellent repast, we decided to swing by the Big Tree, while we're in the neighborhood. We get there by riding down this road: The Big Tree has its own spot reserved and fenced off from those who might want to immortalize their love for their squeeze du jour with a knife or spray paint can. The Big Tree isn't the oldest tree in Texas, or the largest, but it's over 1000 years old, predating the Spanish invasion, and a survivor of the Federal bombardment of Lamar, during the War Between the States. There are other attractions to be found even by the most casual of observers. Then , it was time for pie.
Tags: Texas, travel, motorcycle
I've been banished from still another website. This one is a news gathering place for articles of interest to bikers. It’s a good place to keep an eye on what Big Brother is up to with articles gathered from legitimate news sources all over the world. Its not a good place to post honest responses to what I consider posturing. “Welcome To _____________(Blah, blah blah...). No Cops Or LEO Supporters Allowed, You Will Be Banned.” I don't know which of my comments led to me being banned and, perhaps, branded as a cop or cop supporter. I'm not a cop and I'm not a big-time fan of Big Brother's enforcers. (Politically correct disclaimer: “Yeah, I know, not all cops are bad.”) It may have been my assertion that bikers aren't killed because their exhausts are too quiet, that all loud pipes do is irritate the citizenry and invite more anti-motorcycle legislation, that one might as well bet one's ass on a deer whistle or a ride bell. Then again, it may have been my response to comments about RUBs (Rich Urban Bikers). The bad boys, being way too old “skool” (whatever that is) and ill tempered to tolerate happy people on bikes that haven’t vibrated any parts off, brag how they “flip them off”, when they wave. I allowed as how I am, no kidding, an official “Fingerteer” with official vest pin, no less, awarded for my willingness to flip off snotty riders who refuse to return a wave. (PC cop-out: “Yeah, I know, etc.” I also know that some associations of riders don’t wave to anyone but their own and no, I don’t flip them off.) I pointed out that when I’m on the road I return the waves of bikers, truck drivers, tractor drivers, lawn mower drivers and old folks at the old folks ranch. It’s just neighborly. Further, I opined, when Big Brother moves to pass another helmet law, or some altered exhaust restriction, these RUBs are likely to make effective allies, even if you don’t want your sister to marry one. On the other hand, the “bird” may just move them to apathy.(This may be the point where I threw in that old 60s cliché, “If you’re not part of the solution, then you’re part of the problem”.)Of course, it may not have been a comment on a motorcycle related news article that threw me into disrepute, but one about some hood rat who thought he was bullet proof.Sometimes poor judgment is fatal and sometimes it’s a cop who pushes the button. Self-preservation is a strong instinct and a badge doesn’t automatically put a man in the wrong. Well, as you might guess, I was surely enjoying the knee-jerk responses of "FTP" (Fuck The Pigs), “FTG" (Fuck The Government) and “FT (fill in the blank)” that were generated by the articles, and maybe I should have just commented, “Yeah, what he said!”, but I didn't go along.It must be a character flaw.
The dictionary defines “truism” as a self-evident, obvious truth (e.g. "all cats are gray, at night").
I was sent a list of truisms related to motorcycling which is posted here along with insightful commentary.
The first is a pretty good answer, I think, to the question, “Why do you ride a motorcycle?” Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul. Perhaps the question cannot be answered satisfactorily for the un-initiated, but maybe what they really want to know is why we take the risk, rather than why we ride. Many answers sound a little high-flown, making me wonder if the speaker spends more time riding, or making shit up. I think the last time I was asked, “Why do you ride?” my answer tended towards, “wind in the face, tits in the back”, which is, I guess, succinct, if not very poetic.
Midnight bugs taste just as bad as noon-time bugs. The first time I saw this it read, “Midnight bugs taste best”. Reckon the ingredients in midnight bugs have changed, or if the operative word was, “midnight”, rather than “bugs”? I’ll field research this and get back with a report, later.
It takes more love to share the saddle than it does to share the bed. This first came to me as, “Its harder to share a saddle than a bed”, words spoken by someone for whom a touring bike played a significant role in mending fences with his “significant other” (that’s Newspeak for “ol’ lady”), keeping them out of divorce court.
The truism also applies to couples who can’t ride together, in any sense of the word.
The best view of a thunderstorm is in your rearview mirror. Or: “Never ride into the storm”. Both versions can apply to situations other than inclement weather. If you don't ride in the rain, you don't ride. I've seen folks walk around two cages to get to the scooter so they can ride to work in near-freezing drizzle. Others have bikes that have “never seen rain”. These bikes are not moving the soul.
Never be afraid to slow down. Ride your own ride. Experience and skill aside, some days we are at the top of our game, and some days we are not.
Riding faster than everyone else only guarantees you'll ride alone. There are advantages to riding in a group… or not.
Never hesitate to ride past the last street light at the edge of town.
Always back your bike into the curb, and sit where you can see it. Good advice since you’ll probably want to throw something at the twinkie who is dialing her cell phone while she backs her SUV towards your scoot.
The best alarm clock is sunshine on chrome. My ass. The best alarm clock is the smell of camp breakfast being cooked by someone else.
A friend is someone who'll get out of bed at 2:00 am to drive his pickup to the middle of nowhere to get you when you're broken down. This is a true fact, but remember, if you’re gonna have a friend, you got to be a friend”.
There's something ugly about a NEW bike on a trailer. It’s like making a planter out of a fine guitar. Everyone crashes. Some get back on. Some don't. Some can't.
Never be ashamed to unlearn an old habit. Yeah, get off the rear brake!
If you can't get it going with bungee cords and electrician's tape, it's serious. I guess one could argue whether this should read, “zip ties and duct tape” but the idea holds water, nonetheless.
Bikes parked out front mean good chicken-fried steak inside. That’s true in my state, at least. CFS is the national food of Texas and bikers have done extensive research on where the good stuff is.
There are drunk riders. There are old riders. There are NO old, drunk riders.
The best modifications cannot be seen from the outside.
Always replace the cheapest parts first. I reckon this applies to trouble shooting. My thought is that if sacrificed crash bar has prevented costly damage; it should be replaced before a mirror, for instance.
Gray-haired riders don't get that way from pure luck.
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Ride long, hard and often, you know, like... that other thing
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