Tales from the asphalt
Alone on the highway, the man in black rides his steel horse westbound, westbound, westbound... on what feels like an endless ribbon of asphalt. With no destination, he pushes on, seeking nothing more than the simple peace that he finds on the lonesome journey.
Volume 2, The Lone Star Wide Glide
Ride to nowhere
I just don’t care for having “destinations”, in the sense that most people do, while traveling. My destinations are always more like, general ideas of arriving in a particular area, and may not actually include getting off of the motorcycle, but instead, riding around in the area that I end up in. In other words- I don’t like scheduling lunch stops or gas stops, because doing so creates rigid waypoints that force me to stay on a schedule while traveling. I prefer taking it mile by mile and hour by hour instead and just seeing what's around the next corner. That kind of riding isn't for everyone, which is why I usually ride alone.
It was a Monday in the early summer and, at that time, my day off. My steed was a 2012 Harley-Davidson Wide Glide and I was planning on putting some miles on it that day. I asked some buddies if they wanted to ride with me, but with no destination and no real plan, no one would commit, although a few had claimed that they wanted to go. On the morning of the ride, after a particularly busy and stressful week of work, I woke up around 6:30 am and got dressed for the day. I put on a fresh pot of coffee, filled my cup and went out on the front porch to revel in the glory of seeing the world wake up. I sat down, took a sip of my first cup of coffee and sent out a message to everybody on our group text.
With no surprise to me, there was no response from anyone. Most of the guys I was riding with at the time, would rather ride for half an hour, then stop and hang out for two, which was definitely not my kind of riding. I finished my first cup of coffee within the hour and figured the couple of guys who did say they wanted to go were probably still getting up… it was still pretty early after all. I went back to the kitchen, filled my cup again and returned to the porch. After I finished the second cup of coffee, and still not receiving any response to my message on the group, I filled my cup once again, then went to the garage and pulled my bike out. I sent out another message to the group letting them know that I would be leaving soon, after all, I didn’t want to leave my best riding pals behind- what if they were in the process of getting ready and they weren’t checking their phones? So I waited a little longer, then a little longer again. I ended up finishing the whole pot of coffee over the course of a few hours and at this point, no one had answered my messages on the group text… everyone had completely flaked out.
Time to ride
It was around 10:00 am when I set out with no direction and no destination. On my days off, I like to leave earlier, especially if I think, even for a moment, that the day may end with a couple hundred more miles on the odometer, but 10 am is still early enough for a good day’s ride. Often times, I’ll pick a general “that way” kind of direction and I’ll go that way until I get ready to turn back. This was one of those days.
I tend to stay on the backroads, because my love affair with two lane highways and scenic routes is rooted deep in my childhood memories, when my family would trek halfway across the country every few summers to see family in the midwest and dad would almost always take the scenic routes. For whatever reason, though, on this particular day, I got on the interstate and headed toward Louisiana. I knew I wanted to go west from the beginning, but I typically try to avoid the super slab unless I’m trying to get somewhere in particular, and trying to get there fast. This day it just felt right, so I settled down into the Dyna’s saddle, twisted the throttle and followed the mindless stream of tractor-trailers, sedans and SUVs as they plodded toward whatever destinations they were heading to. My Wide Glide had a quick detach windshield, which I put on before leaving, just in case, and I was glad I did. After a couple of hours on the interstate, I had settled into a nice, relaxing rhythm and I wasn’t quite ready to abandon my fellow westbound travelers.
I hit the Louisiana state line pretty quick, as I don't live too far from the Pelican State, and continued west along the interstate. I wasn't sure where I was going or why, but the interstate just felt "right" today. I passed town after town, and exit after exit, of what probably would have led me down to some pretty amazing back roads along the swamps and through the marshes, but for whatever reason, something kept telling me to stay on the slab. Maybe it was nothing more than the hum of the Twincam 103, pulling me along effortlessly or maybe it was the morning sun at my back, but whatever it was, I followed along and kept my heading.
I crossed over the Atchafalaya Basin bridge around noon or so, over the long twin span bridges as they hovered over the tops of the cypress trees in the swamp below. Riding close to the edge, I could see down into the water, where I spotted some large fish swimming and several alligator gar, lurking just below the surface of the murky water. At the halfway point on the bridges, there is a visitor's center with restrooms and complimentary water, coffee and soda, so I pulled in, parked the Dyna and stretched my legs a bit. I went inside and used the restroom, then took the greeter up on their offer of a fresh cup of coffee. It's never too late for coffee, after all. After taking a walk around the short walking trail out back, I saddled up again and continued my trek west.
The Lone Star State
With my destination still unknown and no real time constraints, I rolled on the throttle and let that V-Twin sing. I passed the exits for Lake Charles and realized that I was getting pretty close to the west side of the state, but it was still pretty early in the afternoon, so I decided to keep pushing on. The next thing I knew- I was approaching the Texas State Line. I saw the rest area, with its oversized metal star planted in the ground near the highway, and knew that I needed to get a picture, so I cruised in to the parking area and took my obligatory, and slightly gratuitous, travel photo. I was about to start heading back, but with endless blue skies still above me, I decided to find the nearest Harley-Davidson shop, to pick up a souvenir.
I looked on the map and saw that there was a dealership in Beaumont, TX by the name of Cowboy Harley-Davidson, so I figured with a name like that, it would have to be a pretty decent place to get a collectible poker chip or two. I pressed on, westbound until I found my exit, then I navigated my way down to the shop. It was clean and the people were friendly, so I got my souvenirs then went back out to the parking lot. I ate a quick snack and drank some water, then decided it was time to mount up and head back home.
Where the heart is
The interstate heading back eastbound was just as comfortable as it was going west, so I was making good time. The sun was at my back, and my shadow stretched in front of me, getting longer and longer by each mile that I passed, until it was finally consumed by the darkness that had finally settled in on the dusk of that long summer day. I rolled into my driveway, just after 8pm, with my wife and kids eager to see me and hear about my unplanned, and unexpected, adventure to Texas.
Interestingly enough, a few months later, I found myself riding my beloved Dyna Wide Glide back over to Beaumont one last time, in order to return to my rightful place, in the saddle a Harley-Davidson Road King. The same bike that I would take to the mountains in Volume One of the MotoWriter's...
Tales from the asphalt
