After a late night at the inaugural AMA Grand National DallAss Mile, held at Lone Star Park in Grand Prairie, Anna and I hit the road at the crack of noon on Sunday. The most boring leg of the journey, Willow Park, West of Fort Worth, to the Texas/Oklahoma border is best glossed over. Other than learning that I couldn’t actually hold my breath all the way through the “canyon” on I-30 through DallAss, this section was uneventful, unremarkable and just plain uninteresting. But, this is one other place where our `94 BMW R1100RSA "Marlene" shows her stuff as a mileage disposal unit.

With temps rapidly climbing past the mid 90’s, the Roadcrafter was warm but bearable as Anna helpfully unzipped the vents one by one. Soon enough we were headed North into Oklahoma and it seemed the temp dropped at least five degrees, maybe even ten when we crossed the Red River headed for Broken Bow. Anna was enjoying the trip, the Bunz-eze pad that she refers to as her “butt-buddy” makes 100-mile + stints doable. Bare in mind, she rarely gets on the bike except for the spring and fall trips, so there are some muscles she just doesn’t use that often. And, since the vacation for us is the trip rather than the destination, I don’t mind a short stop every hour-an-a-half or so. We’re on vacation and we’ve got all the time in the world.

Finally into Arkansas, the temp drops another few degrees, the road narrows and the greenery begins to crowd in on the sides. I feel the tension between my shoulders start to drop away as the roads sweep and dive through the pines. As we ripple down the two lanes, the blue skies become increasingly cloudy. By the by, I long ago determined that TV weather forecasters are the larval stage of politicians. As we pulled into Mena, a brand spankin’ new motel beckoned to us as the clouds roiled. I strolled casually into the lobby and inquired if they had a room for some “scooter trash.” The clerk grinned, tossed his gray ponytail and said “Sure!” Not ten minutes after we were in the room, unpacking the saddlebags and pouring the obligatory Jack Daniels over ice in the dreaded flimsy plastic cup, the skies opened. Hey, God’s got a keen sense of timing.

Under threatening skies in the morning, I stepped out of the room only to find a BIG Honda tourer parked one slot over. As I sipped my morning brew, a large, wind and sunburned man appeared from two doors down. He introduced himself as Vic, from Minnesota and explained that his mount was an “Old Wing” one of the original four-cylinder models. We compared notes on bikes, roads, weather and politics, including Jessie Ventura, while rains scoured the last of the filth from the roads. He was on his way home after a month-long wander. Most pleasant fellow.

Now to the meat of it. Somewhat gentle breezes out of the Northwest cleared the skies by 9:00 AM and we were off like a herd of dirty turtles. Well, a herd of one. Vic and friends were taking a different, more direct route to Bransom, MO, through Eureka Springs, AR, our destination for the day while we sought a variety of pleasures by heading North on 71 to Needmore where we picked up 28 East and North into the Ouachita National Forest.

Curving, tree-canopied two-lanes stretched for hours before us. Sunlight flickity-flicks through the just turning leaves. 60 mile an hour sweepers marked at 35, first gear climbing switchbacks, suddenly breaking out of the black and white world of shadows to see breathtaking vistas of misty valleys, a different world of pines and oaks flanking neatly plowed  fields. All from a gods’ eye perspective that reminds me more of a village on a youngster’s train set than reality. Rolling down the other side of the mountain, we were both amazed to see the extremely life-like statues of four deer at the side of the road as we swept out of yet another switchback. I was even more surprised when they high-tailed it back into the forest!

We took a break in Ozark, feasting on road food and another treat from my childhood, an A&W Root Beer Float. I hadn’t seen an A&W stand in years, if not decades, and this one made the decision of where to eat easy. Then headed north again, still on 23 through the Ozark National Forest. The first time I saw the sign “Crooked and Steep Ahead” I thought they were talking about politicians and bribes… boy was I wrong!

A marvelous afternoon of roller coaster roads led us into Eureka Springs in late afternoon. Anna’s tail was tired, and I had that pleasant ache in my forearms that comes from a day of riding great roads on a great bike. Ready to be through for the day, we pulled in to our favorite place, the Bluebird Lodge, just east of town on 62. The Dotys, Virginia and Jack, were expecting us, and, as always, made us feel like we were visiting old friends. Maybe after five Falls of staying with them, we are.

Sitting on our balcony, watching the setting sun fire the sky, Anna and I shared the soft night and gentle rewards of a day well spent traveling. There is something special about traveling by bike, something more personal, more intimate about being out in the country, not just traveling through it. I had a Miata for a while, and thought it would be much the same… it’s not. After a frolic in the spa-tub, we were both quite mellow as we discussed the “touristy” stuff we’d do the next day.

Tuesday morning arrived on the wings of songbirds and the gentle buzzing of hummingbirds outside our room. After snagging a couple of cups of coffee and half-a-gallon of conversation from Ms Doty, we headed out to Quigley’s Castle, one of the local tourist sights. Gee, we had to go back down that twisty ol’ Hwy 23 a ways to get there. I hate that, really. Anyway, Quigley’s is well worth the five bucks a head to get in, but I think “Castle” is overstating the case a tad. Seems the original Ms. Quigley liked colored stones, and colored glass and amassed quite a bit of both. Over the years, she managed to cover every inch of the exterior walls with these colored bits as well as the stone fence surrounding the property, and a tremendous variety of objects de’ art in the gardens (some of them actually recognizable). In her later years, Miz Q discovered resins and butterflies seemingly simultaneously. I’ll leave it to your imagination what she did to whole walls inside the house. All in all, this home further smudges that fine line between art and insanity. A few more hours of wandering, a passable Italian meal at Mama Sera’s and we were ready for a quiet night in the room. The view from any of the balconies at the Bluebird is peacefully spectacular a great place for a quiet drink, a favorite companion and a good book. I had at least one of each.

Wednesday was to be the highlight of the “touristy” stuff, a trip to the old railway Station and lunch on the steam excursion train. Now this may not sound like much to you, but it was a Hoot! There are a number of static displays; most interesting to me were the steam tractor engines. These mega-ton machines were driven from one piece of machinery to another then they powered the machinery with a leather drive belt driven off a massive flywheel. The drive belts are about 18” wide and darn near 1” thick. Kinda’ like the drive belt on God’s own Harley. I’ve included two photos of the steering mechanism used on one of these babies. A giant screw was turned by a worm drive from the steering wheel. The screw reeled in, and let out, a massive chain that tugged the front axle around its center pivot. I was flabbergasted!

The second area to catch my eye was the “Turntable.” As the current line, and many of the old logging and mining lines, is essentially one-way, they needed some way to turn the locomotives around at each end of the line. Current diesel/electric engines run just as well in either direction, but the problems with a steam engine backing up for any distance are obvious. So, at the end of the line were turntables where electric, mule or muscle power rotated the entire engine and coal car. Believe it or not, the bearing this thing pivots on is so fine; it only takes a 20 HP electric motor to spin it.

And last, but certainly not least, was a machine I’d never seen, the railroader’s cycle. Now I’ve driven a few hacks in my life, and there is an undeniable appeal and utility to three wheelers, but this is really different. We’ve all seen handcarts, with the two guys pumping the handles, well, get a load of this! A combination of leg and arm power could take you anywhere you wanted to go, as long as it was near the tracks, and you really wanted to get there badly enough. Think of it as Richard Simons’ cross between a Simplex and a rowing machine. The soapbox derby style scrub brake that rubbed a large leather pad against the rear wheel may well be the first ABS known to man…

I think one of the reasons that we enjoy Eureka Springs so much is the trolley system. As much as I like traveling by bike, parking, putting away the helmets and riding suits or carrying helmets around with you while dressed like the Blue Power Ranger® has its drawbacks when your doin’ touristy stuff. I remember one gift shop we visited on another trip, Anna was carrying her Arai and her fanny pack while shopping for a gift to take back to her mom. I was in a different part of the store when she went to the counter to pay for the gift. When Anna set her helmet on the counter to get our her billfold, the saleslady looked at the helmet and asked, “Did you come in on a motorcycle?” Anna, having heard this and similar questions one too many times, replied, “Naw, my husband’s just a lousy driver…” With the trolley system, we can go anywhere in town, and to most of the outlying sites, in relative comfort by buying a $3.50 day pass. No hassles with riding gear, and no tryin’ to find a parking space each place we want to stop. Back in our room, and after another romp in the whirlpool, we settled on our balcony to enjoy the coming evening.

Curious about the weather for our return trip, I flipped on the news at 10, only to learn of the tragic massacre at the Church in our old hometown of Fort Worth. I have no more answers than you do, and considerably fewer than the newscasters. I can only say that I believe God created us with the ability to make choices. That is one of the things that separate us from His other creations. I have made some right ones and some wrong ones. This poor man made some bad choices. My heart and my prayers go out to the victims and their families as well as to the victimizer and his family.

Thursday morning we packed our bags a headed out for the return trip. In a bit more somber mood, we headed back down 23 down through Boonville and back into the Ouachita National Forest then picked up 71 to Mena. 23 has more logging trucks running on it than the 28 and 309 route we had taken on the way up. Passing these loggers headed the opposite way is an olfactory treat, with the smell of the fresh pine pitch. Getting caught behind one of `em on an uphill is tedium. Being behind one of `em freefalling downhill is a lesson in debris dodging. Although they have been stripped at the logging site, there are still lots of effluvia flying about at speeds over 60. During one of the slow uphill meanderings I wondered; we’ve been passed by loaded trucks headed north and passes loaded trucks headed south. You’d think they’d organize it a bit better…

In Sulpher Springs, we pulled over in a parking lot to decide on our next course of action. Well, that’s what I thought we were doin’. Anna, on the other hand, had already decided she wasn’t going any further that day, her tail was totally tired. While we were discussing it, a truck pulled into the lot and out jumped Tom Willis, a Sulpher Springs native and multiple airhead owner. Tom had seen us as in the lot and didn’t know if we had problems or what, so he stopped. “Thank you Lord” for the brotherhood. Had we been in one of the cages, and in trouble, we’d still be sittin’ there. We visited for a while and discussed his plans to ride up to the Ozarks with his son in the coming weeks. Nice fellow.

After a night in a miserable Holiday Inn, we headed to Denny’s for the obligatory vacation breakfast, then headed to the house. By early afternoon, we were home. Home where the cats were disdainful and the dogs acted liked they hadn’t been fed all week and it was all our fault. Home to check 100+ e-mails, a handful of phone messages and a stack of mail. Home to see how many blocks, not miles were left in the rear MeZ 4. Home to a full bottle of Jack and fresh roasted French beans. There are attractions to every situation.

We’re planning the next trip for mid October…