El Camino Real

[theneanderthal]

I took a little trip in the southern summer, on the "El Camino Real". That would be US84.

On A GZ250.

El Camino Real was one of the original east/west hiways, pre interstate. I traveled from Milton Fl. north into Alabama and west to Jackson Mississippi. The day was expected to hover around the middle 90s. Trust me on this, don't do it! The heat and humidity were brutal with the mesh jacket, jeans, boots, gloves, full face helmet etc. I got an early start but as the day warmed up I was suffering. Map check! Ahhhh. Clairborn lock and dam. Time for a layover, eat lunch and a swim, cool. I waited for the late afternoon and ran the rest of the way into Laurel Ms.. From there it was Ms. 15 to Ms 18 and on into Jackson Ms.There were a lot of bikes out and about on these
two rural roads. I stopped every 1/2 hour or so to rehydrate. and hit the fairgrounds at Jackson about ten minutes before dark, just enough time to find the wife and daughter with the horse trailer camper and dinner on the grill.

While there I took the opportunity to check out the Natchez Trace and the battle ground memorials at Natchez and Vicksburg. Great ride! The Natchez Trace is beautiful, with little traffic at the end of July on a weekday. I did the barrel race spectator thing, along with horse care and the usual tourist things around Jackson. I also did the blues club scene in Jackson on Saturday night. I would like to report
on which clubs we hit but the beer goggles sorta blinded me. The cabby we tipped
well just gathered us up every hour or so and said, "y'all gotta hear this guy" and
away we would go. Too cool!

Well the speed demon daughter didn't place so it was time to head home friday night.


OK, 08-29-2008 Friday night I'm riding through the Monroe county Al. woods, in southern Alabama, on US 84, eastbound. I was returning from my daughters barrel race in Jackson Mississippi. It's just before midnight and I'm running about 65mph when I popped up over a little rise and see a smallish brown winged thingy cruising about 18 inches off of the roadbed.

It immediately tried for altitude, headed right for my full face, and
whack! It hit just above the face shield. Felt like, sounded like, a baseball.

Now there is hardly anybody around so I snapped a quick u-turn and went back to see if the body was still on the road. Freakin' bat! These things fly poorly and glide well which is why he wasn't able to completely avoid me. Well that and the slip stream effect I guess.

Three more miles up, and boom it's a thunder storm. I roll another mile or so, wet and freezing, and pop a little hill for the LEO field sobriety check point. I'm covered in bug bits, got bat bits on the brain bucket, the bikes loaded with gear, I'm rolling 35mph in a 55, and I'm jack hammering from the cold wet Bama delights. I've got a pistol in one
jacket pocket and a little flask of Makers Mark burbon in the other. This could get ugly. I have a cc permit from Florida, presumably reciprocal with Al., but the flask could be, uh, troublesome?

Young LEO, "license, registration etc!"

Older LEO, "this guys no trouble."

Young LEO, "how do we know he's no trouble?"

Older LEO, "cuz I said so!" (spit)

Me, "where's the closest motel?" "Thanx!" "The rain is right behind me, y'all better gear up.

So I stayed the night at a little place just outside of Monroeville Al., only an hour and a half from my stable but I was wasted from the rain and the cool air. I requested a ground floor room. It's like 3am so the clerk was back asleep within minutes and I just
rolled the GZ right into the room and sacked out. Yepper the baby bike will roll right through a motel room door. I got the evil eye from the house keeper when I pushed it
out about midmorning the next day but hey, it's not like a Harley, gotta mark its turf ya know. No Leaks!

Lessons learned:

Stay out of Mississippi at the end of July, way too hot and humid.

Don't leave the rain gear and leather chaps behind just because you don't *think*
you'll need them.

The GZ seat will leave your ass sore as hell for a week if you do 1300 or so miles in the course of a few days.

At a sobriety check point in the middle of nowhere Al. in the wee small hours of the morning, riding a little GZ250, loaded with gear, may buy you a pass on the stoopid human tricks.