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Warning: Long Winded And Boring Report!
(Click on Images for Larger Version)
Motorcycling during August in Arkansas might seem crazy to some people but when you get a chance to add some Curve Therapy™ to your life, you just have to make the best of it. Railing the curves in Arkansas was exactly what I and four good friends did this past weekend.
The cast included Jay(txbanditrydr), Dave(terrebandit), John(lowryter), and me Dutch(dutchinterceptor). There was a special guest appearance by Tony from Arkansas.
Prior to our ride we all did a bit of prep work on our bikes. Jay and I spooned on some new Pilot Powers knowing that we might want to lean the bikes occasionally and definitely wanted every bit of traction available. Cleaning and polishing is on Jay’s daily list for his two year old, fifty thousand mile Bandit but he also opted for a valve check which I believe was perfect. Dave took a Saturday out of his busy schedule to replace the steering head bearings on his Bandit in preparation and I reluctantly changed my brake and clutch fluid for the first time on my VFR. I say reluctantly because I figured something would go horribly wrong and I’d have to cancel on the trip but luck was on my side. Everything worked perfectly.
After a moderate amount of planning we settled on a route up to our staging point near Flippin, worked out a twisty filled route for Saturday, and left Sunday open for discussion.
The other guys in our group opted to start our first day at seven in the morning on Friday. I want it to be noted that I gave in but not without some protest. The alarm screamed early Friday and I managed to pry myself off of my pillow, lazily climbed aboard my bike, and took off so I could meet Jay and Dave at the local Shell station for our long day’s ride.
John lives in Edmund, Oklahoma and had planned to meet us at the Subway in Mt. Ida around noon. Coincidentally, John has a neighbor who planned to ride his BMW K-bike to Mt. Ida for a family gathering so they both hit the road early. Jay led Dave and me on a nice little route from Tyler up to New Boston. The Valero station on Hwy 8 and I-30 is our regular gas stop before we head across the border.
After a short rest we pressed on in search of anything with curvy asphalt.
Surprisingly enough the temperature hovered around 70 to 75 degrees for the better part of the morning. We made it to Mt. Ida without any problems or so we thought. We eased up to the main intersection at 27 and 270 where several cars had backed up waiting to turn left. While waiting in line with the other cars, Jay quickly spotted a break in the curbing. With a little gravel between it and the gas station’s parking lot he dodged the car waiting in front of us and he carefully took off across the gravel for fuel and cold water. Dave and I said to heck with the gravel, crossed “the white line” and drove about 100’ on the small shoulder to the gas station. What we didn’t realize was there happened to be an Arkansas Trooper lurking about the area.
Unknowingly, Jay started refueling his Bandit while the trooper pulls up next to his bike, jumps out of his cruiser and begins to sternly explain the illegality of crossing the white line at the shoulder of the road. Mr. Trooper exclaimed that we shouldn’t ever cross the white line. The funny part was that Dave and I never realized that he was being lectured. By the time we finished filling our empty tanks the trooper was back on the road. We’re still confused a bit but no ticket ceremony means life is good.
We met John at the Subway but didn’t see his friend right away. John told us that he was afraid we’d leave without him if he was late so he took off leaving his new friend out on the highway. He did show up about 10 minutes later and said that he had been pulled over for speeding. Wonder how they missed John? Nevertheless, we chatted, ate, and soaked up the air conditioning. The 70 degree temperature was nice that morning but the August heat was about to rear its ugly head.
With John’s friend heading off to meet family we headed north again and ventured through Petit Jean State Park. We stopped at the overlook for a few obligatory tree photos and wondered if it could actually get hotter.
My bike was running quite hot and I wondered when the gauge would stop climbing. After leaving the park and being back on the road for a few minutes I checked the ambient temperature. 111 popped up on the display and I immediately started wondering why I opted to go in August.
It doesn’t take much effort to speed in Arkansas when the limit everywhere is 55 mph. Consequently, we were slightly speeding and noticed a non-descript pickup heading towards us. As soon as he passed I could hear a siren wail as he slammed on his brakes to make a quick u-turn. With lights flashing and his siren going he speeds up behind us. Just then we notice two fire trucks ahead. Turns out he was a volunteer fireman but still gave everybody a scare. That was scare number one for the day.
John and I had scare number two a little later. We had stopped at an intersection to wait for Dave to catch up with us. Not realizing that John was so close behind I veered left to stop on the shoulder for a second. All of a sudden I see that dark red Bandit next to me with John’s eyes as big as saucers. No harm no foul. Sorry John!
The roads were becoming curvier the further we went and soon realized why we braved the heat. We had ventured up 95 to avoid the Russellville chaos, left on 65, and finally hit one of my favorite roads….14. Along the way we came across a bull next to the road. He was camera shy and immediately ran when I grabbed for my Canon.
We had another slight interruption from our twisty heaven in the form of a knucklehead in shorts and a t-shirt riding two up. He kept trying to impress me with his riding skills or lack there of. He’d throw his Honda 919 into the curves only to cross the center line at every apex. He’d speed up and slow down as if he wanted me to follow right along. John and I finally slowed to let the future organ donors get well ahead of us.
We had our fun and made it to the hotel where I noticed yet another Bandit. Tony rode in on his Silver Beetle Bag Bandit (Say that three times fast) from Fayetteville and had just pulled up before us. Wait a minute. Four Bandits and one slow VFR?? I see a pattern forming here.
Dave had invited him but wasn’t sure if he could make it. He did!
We unpacked and cleaned up a little only to realize John was nowhere to be seen. I heard splashing and noticed that John found the pool. Nothing better than diving in a pool after a long day’s ride. We soon realized that hunger was the next task to be conquered so off we went in search of sustenance.
We heard good things about a little restaurant in Yellville called The Front Porch so we gave it a try. It’s a typical little country style restaurant with a small creek running next to it. There’s a bridge where you can see the koi, ducks, and snapping turtles in the creek. Dave and John opted for the buffet. Jay and Tony chose the chicken fried steak and not being very hungry I ordered a cheeseburger. The two buffet visitors came back to the table with a heaping pile of food. Ribs, stuffed crab, frog legs along with several other items were in the stack of food. It looked fantastic but I can never seem to get my money’s worth at a buffet. It took some time to get our orders so we were relegated to watching the other two eat. John dove into the frog legs and immediately raved about how good they tasted. “I think these are some of the best I’ve ever had. New York probably doesn’t have frog legs this good” he exclaimed. That’s where the joke started.
After eating we grabbed some beer and headed for the hotel. We talked about the issues with education, presidential debates, attending church more often….ok that’s a load of bull. We drank, talked about riding motorcycles, working on motorcycles, buying new motorcycles, etc. etc. Oh! And John mentioned how good the frog legs were about every thirty minutes. This went on for some time.
Saturday arrives with my cell phone/alarm screeching at me yet again. I hate early mornings! I jumped up and looked out the window and noticed a bit of fog but everything looked ok. As I started getting my gear together I noticed a tink-tink-tinkling on the window unit in my room. That’s odd I thought so I looked out the window once again only to find that it was raining. Rats! We stood around grumbling and griping while we watched our bikes get soaked.
We decided to get some breakfast and see what the weather was going to do. John said the breakfast wasn’t anywhere near as good as the frog legs the night before.
The rain eased up around eleven and Tony wasn’t able to stay so he took off after breakfast.
The rest of us headed out in the hopes that the rain would leave us alone. I had my doubts but at least the roads were dry as we headed north to Peel. 14 is a fun road chock full of sweepers. And then....
Lookout!! Wild Killer Turkey!!
The only downside was the ramshackle pickup that kept fogging us every time he would take his foot of the gas. I knew our turn was coming up soon so I didn’t want to pass him. Next thing I know he veers off 14 onto a dirt road without slowing down! The truck was bouncing all over the place but I was just glad he was gone. Our turn came up for 125 and as I rounded the corner I noticed that same smelly truck pop-out a hundred yards ahead of me. I guess these locals make their own shortcuts. A moderate twist of the wrist and we said buh-bye. And then...
Lookout!! Deer!!
Next stop was the ferry across Bull Shoals Lake. We arrived just as they were leaving but fortunately they didn’t wait on the other side and headed straight back. Jay kept telling John that the ferry charged $10 to cross the lake. Just before the ferry docked John was asking me for details and if they took credit cards so I had to give in and tell him. He kept trying to talk Jay into loaning him the money but Jay wouldn’t budge.
(John snips the brake cable on Jay's bike to get even for the ferry joke)
Once we were underway, Dave did his best Jack Dawson impersonation.
Now that we were in Missouri we followed 125 up to 160 and Dave told me to keep going on 125 for even more fun. Unfortunately, as soon as it started we noticed a sign that said fresh gravel and oil next two miles. They weren’t lying about the gravel either. It was one to two inches deep across the road. Two miles came and went. Four miles came and went. Five miles came and went. I decided to whip a U and head back to 160 because they’ve obviously mucked up the entire stretch of pure rollercoaster riding fun. As we continued on the traffic got worse near Branson and the skies kept getting darker. We decided to cut down 13 to 103 and south to Ponca and then east on 74 until we hit 7 where we stopped in Jasper.
At the gas stop we ran into a guy name Bill Wing who is an HSTA State Director for Arkansas. Nice guy! Bill was riding a GS and his friend was on a GW. We discussed all the good roads in the area for a while before we made like a baby and headed on out. The obvious route from there was east on 74 to Hasty and then of course south on 123. Mmmmm……Curves!! Let the therapy begin!!
I timed our run down and back starting and finishing at the impassible hairpin turn signs at each end. We might have done it one-way in fourteen minutes but I also could be mistaken since we don’t normally break the speed limit.
That’s truly a perfect road in many respects but it did have a lot of gravel scattered in the corners especially on the switchbacks. In fact the road surface was pretty poor now that I think about it. And there were kamikaze chickens at every corner. And the locals were riding ATV’s everywhere. And there were police blockades. And…..you better tell everybody to just avoid 123 from now on. Did I mention the frog legs??
After a non-stop up and back run of 123 celebration, we headed for the motel.
123 to 65 to 235 to 125 to 14 was our route back toward Flippin. 235 and 125 aren’t technical by any means but there was hardly any traffic, the road surface was good, and they were just loads of fun at speed. We made it to the hotel and opted for pizza and beer. Our stash was low from Friday night so I headed to the store for a couple more six-packs. John said the pizza was good but not as good as the frog legs. Many more lies were told and lots of pizza and beer were consumed. Dave and John each kicked back with a monstrous stogy after dinner. At one point we could see Dave’s eye lids getting heavy. It had been a long day for sure.
We noticed that each night a little toad would hop around between us while we chatted. Run little guy….John’s coming!!
Sunday came with another wretchedly annoying jingle from my cell phone turned alarm clock. Note to self….buy hammer to turn it off next time. We had initially planned to go home but after missing half a day due to rain we opted to stay another day. John unfortunately was forced to go back to Oklahoma since his Pilot Road was getting quite slick.
We did have breakfast at a different little mom & pop restaurant. Actually, the cook looked to be about 102 but the food was pretty good. However, the breakfast Sunday was much better than the breakfast on Saturday but not nearly as good as the….ok, you know…..
John took his Micron wielding dark red Bandit and pointed it towards Oklahoma just as a local construction company tore into an old church.
Jay and I decided it was time to introduce Dave to Push Mtn. Road since he’s been on every other road except that one. And then...
Lookout!! Deer!!
I stopped at the entrance off of 14 to grab a quick drink and noticed a sport-biker rounding the last corner at high speed, dragging a knee. He pulled over and started chatting with us. Turns out he used to race cars for GM and lives 12 miles from Push Mtn. He said he’s taken up racing bikes instead of cars. I immediately took a glance at the Diablos on his new-ish ZX-14 and noticed that the tires were in shreds. I sarcastically said nice chicken-strips and he laughed, “Almost big enough to eat.” Wonder if he’s ever eaten at the Front Porch?? Sorry, never mind.
Anyway, a few of his buddies showed up and he said they ride that road nearly every day. I’m sure we could have kept up with them but we wanted to… uhhh… save our tires…. Yeah that’s it…save our tires. We made a run down till it straightened out and I circled back to get set up in my secret location for photos. Dave and Jay made a few runs back and forth as I tried to track them going past. A cruiser came by at about a third their speed and I decided right then that cruisers are much easier to shoot in action.
After a few shots we tore down 341 again, cut over on 14 to Mountain View and then picked up 9. That was my first time on it and I loved it. Every curve was a little different and had a few that would easily catch you off guard with blind corners and elevation changes. And then....
Lookout!! Deer!!
If you stay on 9/16 it will spit you out in Clinton. We gassed up there and continued west on 16. It had about a half dozen areas with fresh rock so we had to take it slow at first but we kept pushing harder and harder until we popped out at Sand Gap. We initially thought about hitting a little diner in Clarksville but it was nearly three and still had a long, long trip home. We gave in and did what anybody else would do in that situation….we ran 123 again! Scraped my boot but at least it wasn’t my peg feelers….oh yeah, I took them off. 14 minutes again even dodging a bass-boat on one of the switchbacks! Oh yeah, bad road. I don’t know why we did it again. Stay far away!!
Mount Judea has a little place to eat called Eagle Rock Cafe that’s open everyday including Sunday, thankfully. We pulled in and ordered some food. We were all drained from the heat and curves. 16 really took it’s toll on each of us. Food was so-so but Dave’s blueberry cobbler with ice cream looked perfect. I regret not getting some for myself. The owner of the café is Patricia Royce. She came over and talked with us for a little while about all the casualties on 123 and asked where we had been and where we were headed. A guy and his wife road up on a Triumph while we were there and came in for a to go order. He was bragging about all the miles he had put on his Road King. Said he had something like 58K and only had it for 2 years. He had just gone to Sturgis from Arkansas by way of California.
After leaving the café we did a repeat of Saturday by continuing up 123 to 235 to 125 and then back to the hotel. The three of us camped out at the pool for about an hour and pretty much just looked at each other the rest of the evening. We were whooped. We did walk over to a convenience store to get something to eat. We were too tired to ride anywhere at that point. The little toad showed up again.
Monday morning and my cell phone goes off….rassinfrassinsoma….ball-pean hammer should work. The only real excitement for us was that it was in the low sixties. Jay put on another four or five layers and turned his heated grips on. I’m not sure if Dave got cold but I was enjoying the brisk morning run.
We came down 14 to 27 to 7 into Russellville and stopped at the Wafflehouse. After that we meandered our way to Mena where Dave noticed a shiny piece of metal protruding from his tire. It didn’t appear to be leaking but we went back and forth for a bit. Pull it out or leave it. Pull it out or leave it. After the tire cooled off for a little while, I sprayed it again with windex and noticed a very tiny bubble coming out so Jay pulled out his ever faithful mini-leatherman and pulled the offending piece of steel out. It looked like the very tip of a small nail. Dave’s tire didn’t seem to be leaking much air if any so we continued on our way back to Texas.
Unfortunately, the ride home wasn’t very exciting knowing that it would be nothing more than straight roads as we approached Tyler. We made a couple stops for gas and refreshments but they were short. We said our goodbyes in Gilmer and I pulled in the driveway well before five so I had time to unpack and shower so I could take the ball & chain out to eat.
Guys, I really enjoyed the trip and hope that we can do it again sometime.
http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e81/Dutch9090/Akansas 07/ARAugust07102.jpg
(Click on Images for Larger Version)
Motorcycling during August in Arkansas might seem crazy to some people but when you get a chance to add some Curve Therapy™ to your life, you just have to make the best of it. Railing the curves in Arkansas was exactly what I and four good friends did this past weekend.
The cast included Jay(txbanditrydr), Dave(terrebandit), John(lowryter), and me Dutch(dutchinterceptor). There was a special guest appearance by Tony from Arkansas.
Prior to our ride we all did a bit of prep work on our bikes. Jay and I spooned on some new Pilot Powers knowing that we might want to lean the bikes occasionally and definitely wanted every bit of traction available. Cleaning and polishing is on Jay’s daily list for his two year old, fifty thousand mile Bandit but he also opted for a valve check which I believe was perfect. Dave took a Saturday out of his busy schedule to replace the steering head bearings on his Bandit in preparation and I reluctantly changed my brake and clutch fluid for the first time on my VFR. I say reluctantly because I figured something would go horribly wrong and I’d have to cancel on the trip but luck was on my side. Everything worked perfectly.
After a moderate amount of planning we settled on a route up to our staging point near Flippin, worked out a twisty filled route for Saturday, and left Sunday open for discussion.
The other guys in our group opted to start our first day at seven in the morning on Friday. I want it to be noted that I gave in but not without some protest. The alarm screamed early Friday and I managed to pry myself off of my pillow, lazily climbed aboard my bike, and took off so I could meet Jay and Dave at the local Shell station for our long day’s ride.
John lives in Edmund, Oklahoma and had planned to meet us at the Subway in Mt. Ida around noon. Coincidentally, John has a neighbor who planned to ride his BMW K-bike to Mt. Ida for a family gathering so they both hit the road early. Jay led Dave and me on a nice little route from Tyler up to New Boston. The Valero station on Hwy 8 and I-30 is our regular gas stop before we head across the border.
After a short rest we pressed on in search of anything with curvy asphalt.
Surprisingly enough the temperature hovered around 70 to 75 degrees for the better part of the morning. We made it to Mt. Ida without any problems or so we thought. We eased up to the main intersection at 27 and 270 where several cars had backed up waiting to turn left. While waiting in line with the other cars, Jay quickly spotted a break in the curbing. With a little gravel between it and the gas station’s parking lot he dodged the car waiting in front of us and he carefully took off across the gravel for fuel and cold water. Dave and I said to heck with the gravel, crossed “the white line” and drove about 100’ on the small shoulder to the gas station. What we didn’t realize was there happened to be an Arkansas Trooper lurking about the area.
Unknowingly, Jay started refueling his Bandit while the trooper pulls up next to his bike, jumps out of his cruiser and begins to sternly explain the illegality of crossing the white line at the shoulder of the road. Mr. Trooper exclaimed that we shouldn’t ever cross the white line. The funny part was that Dave and I never realized that he was being lectured. By the time we finished filling our empty tanks the trooper was back on the road. We’re still confused a bit but no ticket ceremony means life is good.
We met John at the Subway but didn’t see his friend right away. John told us that he was afraid we’d leave without him if he was late so he took off leaving his new friend out on the highway. He did show up about 10 minutes later and said that he had been pulled over for speeding. Wonder how they missed John? Nevertheless, we chatted, ate, and soaked up the air conditioning. The 70 degree temperature was nice that morning but the August heat was about to rear its ugly head.
With John’s friend heading off to meet family we headed north again and ventured through Petit Jean State Park. We stopped at the overlook for a few obligatory tree photos and wondered if it could actually get hotter.
My bike was running quite hot and I wondered when the gauge would stop climbing. After leaving the park and being back on the road for a few minutes I checked the ambient temperature. 111 popped up on the display and I immediately started wondering why I opted to go in August.
It doesn’t take much effort to speed in Arkansas when the limit everywhere is 55 mph. Consequently, we were slightly speeding and noticed a non-descript pickup heading towards us. As soon as he passed I could hear a siren wail as he slammed on his brakes to make a quick u-turn. With lights flashing and his siren going he speeds up behind us. Just then we notice two fire trucks ahead. Turns out he was a volunteer fireman but still gave everybody a scare. That was scare number one for the day.
John and I had scare number two a little later. We had stopped at an intersection to wait for Dave to catch up with us. Not realizing that John was so close behind I veered left to stop on the shoulder for a second. All of a sudden I see that dark red Bandit next to me with John’s eyes as big as saucers. No harm no foul. Sorry John!
The roads were becoming curvier the further we went and soon realized why we braved the heat. We had ventured up 95 to avoid the Russellville chaos, left on 65, and finally hit one of my favorite roads….14. Along the way we came across a bull next to the road. He was camera shy and immediately ran when I grabbed for my Canon.
We had another slight interruption from our twisty heaven in the form of a knucklehead in shorts and a t-shirt riding two up. He kept trying to impress me with his riding skills or lack there of. He’d throw his Honda 919 into the curves only to cross the center line at every apex. He’d speed up and slow down as if he wanted me to follow right along. John and I finally slowed to let the future organ donors get well ahead of us.
We had our fun and made it to the hotel where I noticed yet another Bandit. Tony rode in on his Silver Beetle Bag Bandit (Say that three times fast) from Fayetteville and had just pulled up before us. Wait a minute. Four Bandits and one slow VFR?? I see a pattern forming here.
Dave had invited him but wasn’t sure if he could make it. He did!
We unpacked and cleaned up a little only to realize John was nowhere to be seen. I heard splashing and noticed that John found the pool. Nothing better than diving in a pool after a long day’s ride. We soon realized that hunger was the next task to be conquered so off we went in search of sustenance.
We heard good things about a little restaurant in Yellville called The Front Porch so we gave it a try. It’s a typical little country style restaurant with a small creek running next to it. There’s a bridge where you can see the koi, ducks, and snapping turtles in the creek. Dave and John opted for the buffet. Jay and Tony chose the chicken fried steak and not being very hungry I ordered a cheeseburger. The two buffet visitors came back to the table with a heaping pile of food. Ribs, stuffed crab, frog legs along with several other items were in the stack of food. It looked fantastic but I can never seem to get my money’s worth at a buffet. It took some time to get our orders so we were relegated to watching the other two eat. John dove into the frog legs and immediately raved about how good they tasted. “I think these are some of the best I’ve ever had. New York probably doesn’t have frog legs this good” he exclaimed. That’s where the joke started.
After eating we grabbed some beer and headed for the hotel. We talked about the issues with education, presidential debates, attending church more often….ok that’s a load of bull. We drank, talked about riding motorcycles, working on motorcycles, buying new motorcycles, etc. etc. Oh! And John mentioned how good the frog legs were about every thirty minutes. This went on for some time.
Saturday arrives with my cell phone/alarm screeching at me yet again. I hate early mornings! I jumped up and looked out the window and noticed a bit of fog but everything looked ok. As I started getting my gear together I noticed a tink-tink-tinkling on the window unit in my room. That’s odd I thought so I looked out the window once again only to find that it was raining. Rats! We stood around grumbling and griping while we watched our bikes get soaked.
We decided to get some breakfast and see what the weather was going to do. John said the breakfast wasn’t anywhere near as good as the frog legs the night before.
The rain eased up around eleven and Tony wasn’t able to stay so he took off after breakfast.
The rest of us headed out in the hopes that the rain would leave us alone. I had my doubts but at least the roads were dry as we headed north to Peel. 14 is a fun road chock full of sweepers. And then....
Lookout!! Wild Killer Turkey!!
The only downside was the ramshackle pickup that kept fogging us every time he would take his foot of the gas. I knew our turn was coming up soon so I didn’t want to pass him. Next thing I know he veers off 14 onto a dirt road without slowing down! The truck was bouncing all over the place but I was just glad he was gone. Our turn came up for 125 and as I rounded the corner I noticed that same smelly truck pop-out a hundred yards ahead of me. I guess these locals make their own shortcuts. A moderate twist of the wrist and we said buh-bye. And then...
Lookout!! Deer!!
Next stop was the ferry across Bull Shoals Lake. We arrived just as they were leaving but fortunately they didn’t wait on the other side and headed straight back. Jay kept telling John that the ferry charged $10 to cross the lake. Just before the ferry docked John was asking me for details and if they took credit cards so I had to give in and tell him. He kept trying to talk Jay into loaning him the money but Jay wouldn’t budge.
(John snips the brake cable on Jay's bike to get even for the ferry joke)
Once we were underway, Dave did his best Jack Dawson impersonation.
Now that we were in Missouri we followed 125 up to 160 and Dave told me to keep going on 125 for even more fun. Unfortunately, as soon as it started we noticed a sign that said fresh gravel and oil next two miles. They weren’t lying about the gravel either. It was one to two inches deep across the road. Two miles came and went. Four miles came and went. Five miles came and went. I decided to whip a U and head back to 160 because they’ve obviously mucked up the entire stretch of pure rollercoaster riding fun. As we continued on the traffic got worse near Branson and the skies kept getting darker. We decided to cut down 13 to 103 and south to Ponca and then east on 74 until we hit 7 where we stopped in Jasper.
At the gas stop we ran into a guy name Bill Wing who is an HSTA State Director for Arkansas. Nice guy! Bill was riding a GS and his friend was on a GW. We discussed all the good roads in the area for a while before we made like a baby and headed on out. The obvious route from there was east on 74 to Hasty and then of course south on 123. Mmmmm……Curves!! Let the therapy begin!!
I timed our run down and back starting and finishing at the impassible hairpin turn signs at each end. We might have done it one-way in fourteen minutes but I also could be mistaken since we don’t normally break the speed limit.
That’s truly a perfect road in many respects but it did have a lot of gravel scattered in the corners especially on the switchbacks. In fact the road surface was pretty poor now that I think about it. And there were kamikaze chickens at every corner. And the locals were riding ATV’s everywhere. And there were police blockades. And…..you better tell everybody to just avoid 123 from now on. Did I mention the frog legs??
After a non-stop up and back run of 123 celebration, we headed for the motel.
123 to 65 to 235 to 125 to 14 was our route back toward Flippin. 235 and 125 aren’t technical by any means but there was hardly any traffic, the road surface was good, and they were just loads of fun at speed. We made it to the hotel and opted for pizza and beer. Our stash was low from Friday night so I headed to the store for a couple more six-packs. John said the pizza was good but not as good as the frog legs. Many more lies were told and lots of pizza and beer were consumed. Dave and John each kicked back with a monstrous stogy after dinner. At one point we could see Dave’s eye lids getting heavy. It had been a long day for sure.
We noticed that each night a little toad would hop around between us while we chatted. Run little guy….John’s coming!!
Sunday came with another wretchedly annoying jingle from my cell phone turned alarm clock. Note to self….buy hammer to turn it off next time. We had initially planned to go home but after missing half a day due to rain we opted to stay another day. John unfortunately was forced to go back to Oklahoma since his Pilot Road was getting quite slick.
We did have breakfast at a different little mom & pop restaurant. Actually, the cook looked to be about 102 but the food was pretty good. However, the breakfast Sunday was much better than the breakfast on Saturday but not nearly as good as the….ok, you know…..
John took his Micron wielding dark red Bandit and pointed it towards Oklahoma just as a local construction company tore into an old church.
Jay and I decided it was time to introduce Dave to Push Mtn. Road since he’s been on every other road except that one. And then...
Lookout!! Deer!!
I stopped at the entrance off of 14 to grab a quick drink and noticed a sport-biker rounding the last corner at high speed, dragging a knee. He pulled over and started chatting with us. Turns out he used to race cars for GM and lives 12 miles from Push Mtn. He said he’s taken up racing bikes instead of cars. I immediately took a glance at the Diablos on his new-ish ZX-14 and noticed that the tires were in shreds. I sarcastically said nice chicken-strips and he laughed, “Almost big enough to eat.” Wonder if he’s ever eaten at the Front Porch?? Sorry, never mind.
Anyway, a few of his buddies showed up and he said they ride that road nearly every day. I’m sure we could have kept up with them but we wanted to… uhhh… save our tires…. Yeah that’s it…save our tires. We made a run down till it straightened out and I circled back to get set up in my secret location for photos. Dave and Jay made a few runs back and forth as I tried to track them going past. A cruiser came by at about a third their speed and I decided right then that cruisers are much easier to shoot in action.
After a few shots we tore down 341 again, cut over on 14 to Mountain View and then picked up 9. That was my first time on it and I loved it. Every curve was a little different and had a few that would easily catch you off guard with blind corners and elevation changes. And then....
Lookout!! Deer!!
If you stay on 9/16 it will spit you out in Clinton. We gassed up there and continued west on 16. It had about a half dozen areas with fresh rock so we had to take it slow at first but we kept pushing harder and harder until we popped out at Sand Gap. We initially thought about hitting a little diner in Clarksville but it was nearly three and still had a long, long trip home. We gave in and did what anybody else would do in that situation….we ran 123 again! Scraped my boot but at least it wasn’t my peg feelers….oh yeah, I took them off. 14 minutes again even dodging a bass-boat on one of the switchbacks! Oh yeah, bad road. I don’t know why we did it again. Stay far away!!
Mount Judea has a little place to eat called Eagle Rock Cafe that’s open everyday including Sunday, thankfully. We pulled in and ordered some food. We were all drained from the heat and curves. 16 really took it’s toll on each of us. Food was so-so but Dave’s blueberry cobbler with ice cream looked perfect. I regret not getting some for myself. The owner of the café is Patricia Royce. She came over and talked with us for a little while about all the casualties on 123 and asked where we had been and where we were headed. A guy and his wife road up on a Triumph while we were there and came in for a to go order. He was bragging about all the miles he had put on his Road King. Said he had something like 58K and only had it for 2 years. He had just gone to Sturgis from Arkansas by way of California.
After leaving the café we did a repeat of Saturday by continuing up 123 to 235 to 125 and then back to the hotel. The three of us camped out at the pool for about an hour and pretty much just looked at each other the rest of the evening. We were whooped. We did walk over to a convenience store to get something to eat. We were too tired to ride anywhere at that point. The little toad showed up again.
Monday morning and my cell phone goes off….rassinfrassinsoma….ball-pean hammer should work. The only real excitement for us was that it was in the low sixties. Jay put on another four or five layers and turned his heated grips on. I’m not sure if Dave got cold but I was enjoying the brisk morning run.
We came down 14 to 27 to 7 into Russellville and stopped at the Wafflehouse. After that we meandered our way to Mena where Dave noticed a shiny piece of metal protruding from his tire. It didn’t appear to be leaking but we went back and forth for a bit. Pull it out or leave it. Pull it out or leave it. After the tire cooled off for a little while, I sprayed it again with windex and noticed a very tiny bubble coming out so Jay pulled out his ever faithful mini-leatherman and pulled the offending piece of steel out. It looked like the very tip of a small nail. Dave’s tire didn’t seem to be leaking much air if any so we continued on our way back to Texas.
Unfortunately, the ride home wasn’t very exciting knowing that it would be nothing more than straight roads as we approached Tyler. We made a couple stops for gas and refreshments but they were short. We said our goodbyes in Gilmer and I pulled in the driveway well before five so I had time to unpack and shower so I could take the ball & chain out to eat.
Guys, I really enjoyed the trip and hope that we can do it again sometime.
http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e81/Dutch9090/Akansas 07/ARAugust07102.jpg
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Maybe the heat will go away by the 1st weekend of Nov. 
