ARKansas - June 2015

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Day 5 - Continued -

Our riding group seldom has a formal pre-ride meeting anymore, unless "Should I order the corned-beef hash and eggs or are we stopping for a big lunch?" counts as a ride-related inquiry and "Lunch is just a snack, but don't drink too much coffee because there won't be a comfort break for another hour and a half" counts as a proper response. Our meeting, if you want to call it that, is usually just an overview of the route, the riding order, and the time and distance until our next stop. Sharing well over 5,000 road miles together means that we are all on the same page regarding hand signals, following distance, intersection protocol, and the like.

When we're on the "Let's Get There" portions of a trip, the riding order is not particularly important because the goal is keeping everyone together from point A to point B. Generally, deference is given to the prettiest of our motorcylists and Cheryl and Laura usually opt for the even-numbered positions in line. Either Glen or I usually take the sweeper position. The leader is typically, but not always, the rider who planned the route for the trip, so Glen was #1 for most legs of the Arkansas adventure. Glen and I work very well together as leader and sweep, but the truth is that everyone in our group is experienced enough and has the right demeanor to ride first or last. The confidence we have in one another allows us to mix up the order when we hit the "Let's Have Some Fun" portions of a trip.

AR14 and AR5 were Glen's picks for the "Let's Have Some Fun" leg of our escape to Mexico. We rode the short distance from Harrison to AR14 as one group with Glen #1 and, if I recall, me as sweeper. A quick stop on the shoulder (again, as memory serves) and Glen, Mike G., and I moved to the front of the line. Laura, Cheryl and Mike/Judy decided to bring up the rear.

"We'll wait for you at where 14 meets 27"
"Have fun and don't be too stupid"

And off we went, separating into two groups of three within just a few hundred feet.

Our morning "east to go west" route
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The weather was cooperating; it was still early in the day so the heat had not had a fair chance to flex its muscle and this was to be a full riding day without a drop of rain.

AR14 was easily my favorite stretch of road on the entire trip. The roadbed was smooth for the most part, with relatively few crossroads, and loaded with curves and elevation changes. We even had two old guys wave to us from their chairs on their front porch. The turns set up perfectly for my eye, but the thing I remember most was watching Glen dance with his big BMW just ahead of me. Not only was it fun to watch him really get into a rhythm, but he was feeding me information about what was ahead by how he handled each turn. On this day, on this road, I was able to process the information Glen and the road were giving me and translate it into smooth entrances and exits. Getting my chin (somewhat) over my wrists. Getting my butt (somewhat) off and to the side of my seat. I feel that I rode AR14 as well, better even, than I have ever ridden. It will forever be etched in my mind as will the song that was beating through my Bluetooth headphones in perfect synchronization with my movements...

You got me beggin' you for mercy
Why won't you release me
You got me beggin' you for mercy
Why won't you release me
I said you better release me "Mercy" by Duffy (the lyrics are irrelevant to this post, but I don't know how to type out a rhythm)

I have deliberately avoided calculating how much further ahead of Group 2 we were when we arrived at Crockett's Country Store & Canoe Rental because I don't want the authorities (and by that, I mean Cheryl) to know how fast we may have been going. She probably has some inkling though...

"Did you see that big turtle that was crossing the road?"
"Yeah. On the right shoulder, right?"
"No, it was on the left side when we passed it."

We arrived at Crockett's, which I don't think any of us knew existed. Glen parked his bike near the road so the others could see it as they rounded the last turn before the intersection. We shed some gear and I walked over to Glen and shook his hand which turned into a man-hug to show my appreciation for everything about this morning; the weather, the road, his riding, my riding, Mike's riding, the turtle, the old men, everything.

Our brief stop at Crockett's Country Store & Canoe Rental. Conveniently located in the middle of nowhere.
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Group 1 took off again on 14 for several more wonder-filled miles until we intersected with AR5, waiting for Group 2 before turning north on 5 toward our destination for the night.

I recall that we became a single group again on AR5. A very nice road, also, but not the same as AR14. The only thing I remember about our ride on it, and this may have actually happened someplace else, was passing a guy on a bicycle laden with two huge panniers and God knows what other luggage and gear, struggling mightily to get up a hill. S-turning his way up the hill, going so slow that he was defying the laws of physics by remaining anywhere close to upright. We gave him wide berth.

The town of Mountain Home seemed like a good spot to stop for lunch, so after gassing up on the outskirts of town, we headed uptown. The town's name was the only thing quaint about it. Pretty industrial. I think Glen mentioned something about the Ranger boat factory was or is located there.

I don't know if Judy checked Trip Advisor for this place or not, but Da Back Yard was the perfect spot for lunch. The name is an homage to the unique dialect of my hometown of Chicago. They served Chicago-style hotdogs, Chicago-style Italian beef sandwiches, and burgers with Chicago-themed names. The food was good, the restaurant a little grimy, and the young men running the place were affable and very found of all things Chicago, especially visitors from there. Google tells me that they are no longer in business which is a shame.

Lunch finished, we headed out back to use the restrooms. Yes, you had to go around back. I think Da Back Yard was once Da gas station. Then, it was back on the bikes and to continue our northbound attempt to stay ahead of the storms.

Not much worthy of note on our way to Mexico. I vaguely recall riding along a lake with very neat looking fishing/vacation resorts along both sides of the road, but I can't seem to figure out where that was and I haven't confirmed with Glen what our exact route was from Mountain Home to Mexico. I know that we stopped at the same gas station on US54 in Jefferson City that we stopped at on the way down. I remember that the Best Western, Teal Lake (apparently a suburb of Mexico) was mercifully close to the exit off US54. I remember learning that we would have to ride a few miles into town for dinner which we did almost immediately after check-in. We had ridden nearly 400 miles, 200+ of it in high heat and humidity.

North to Mexico (route may not be entirely accurate)
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Meyer lemon
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Citrus × meyeri, the Meyer lemon, is a citrus fruit native to China thought to be a cross between a true lemon and either a mandarin or common orange. It was introduced to the United States in 1908 as S.P.I. #23028 by the agricultural explorer Frank Nicholas Meyer, an employee of the United States Department of Agriculture who collected a sample of the plant on a trip to China.
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Surprisingly enough, Mexico, Missouri is a nice looking little town with a lovely town square. We rode around this square once in search of a restaurant named "Andrea C" which was either recommended by the clerk at the Best Western or by Trip Advisor, possibly both.

We had the address to Andrea C, but because we were at the town center, it was difficult for us to figure out how the numbers ran. After one pass, Glen or possibly Mike G., stopped to ask a local fella who was sitting out in front of a store overlooking the square. I had my helmet on, so didn't hear everything, but I could tell that our new friend had not the faintest clue where the Andrea C was located. Just about the time that people started referring to their cell phones for directions, I noticed a small sign on a building across the square and down a few buildings from it. I ventured forth on a scouting run and lo and behold, I found the place! I returned to the group, gathered them up, and lead them the 1/2 a block to the restaurant. We parked directly in front of the restaurant and if you turned to look back across the square, you could plainly see the local fella sitting in front of the store. How on Earth he didn't know where the only restaurant in the vicinity was located when it was right in front of his face still baffles.

So, we get a nice table in a nearly empty restaurant. Our young waitress comes by to take drink orders. We decided that if we ordered a cocktail, just one, before dinner, we would not leave the restaurant for at least an hour afterward. So I, naturally, inquired about their gin selection and she, naturally, had to check at the bar.

"We have Bombay Sapphire"
"Great!"
"But we only have enough for one drink"

I may have the timeline slightly askew here, but I believe it was at this point that Mike G. asked the now legendary question:

"Do you have Meyer Lemons?"
"What?" responded our server.
"What?" responded the rest of us.
"I don't think so" replied the server.

Now, I am not fluent in Waitress, but my translation of "I don't think so." comes out something like "I don't know what the hell Meyer lemons are and what's more, I don't know why in the hell you would ask if a tiny restaurant in a small town in the middle of Missouri has Meyer*F-in*Lemons".

Oddly, no one asked Mike why he wanted Meyer lemons at that particular moment in time. At the time, we just laughed at why would even bother to inquire. I finally asked him in February about why he wanted the lemons and by then he had forgotten.

Since he was shut out on the Meyer lemon front, I offered him the last 1.5 ounces of gin and that I would have a beer. That worked out well and the food was delicious and in large quantities.

Andrea C (I regret not taking the picture from such an angle to show our uniformed friend sitting across the square from us. Mike may very well have been looking at the guy in this picture, wondering how in heck...)

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End of Day 5