Into The South

Even in Arkansas, the way to start your moto-day!

The Ozarks are beautiful, but there is only so much time before I have to get on the road if I want to make Memphis by this evening. I set out on a short tour of the Ozarks which turns out to be much shorter than I expected, the road basically makes a wide loop around and connects me back to the freeway. The path I chose not only followed some of the battles from the Civil war  but led me to The Choctaw Indian Casino. I am part Choctaw and this is the only time I have met any "real" Choctaw Indian's, nice people. Oddly enough, the woman at the gas station bears a striking resemblance to the drawings of my great grandmother. Riding through the countryside, I saw a lot of Turkey houses. The Arkansas area was once a huge producer of poultry, the landscape is littered with the remnants of old farms. These have special meaning to me since this was one of the areas my father traveled to a great deal when he was in the turkey industry. I thought of our own farm (now a school and development) and I could not help but wonder if my father had been to many of the old places I saw, I wished I could have called him to ask.

Sometimes "God" gives you a little nudge in the right direction. In this case it was timely since I had miscalculated how much time it would take to get to Memphis. The road to Memphis was a Freeway and uneventful save a small near argument with a local over the English speaking ability of "gooks", sometimes (when out numbered) it is a good idea to just keep your mouth shut.

My Tribe doing me proud.

Memphis is larger than I expected and well, not the romantic little 'burg' of Elvis fame. I was planning to stay at the local city park/campground just off the freeway. The directions led me through construction zone after construction zone and each filled with detours. Yes, I got lost. I found myself in a neighborhood where I obviously did not belong, dressed in my jeans, t-shirt and my head covered in a black and white bandana and sunglasses. I looked "white boy wanna be" thug-ish and the locals -were the real thing. I stopped briefly to check my GPS and high tailed it out of there, followed by a couple of lowered Cadillacs.

I found the park around 10:00 pm, was set up by 11:00 pm and so tired I skipped the plan to hit Beal Street. Sad, I really would have enjoyed some wild party type folks to watch. I did go there the next morning for a Starbucks coffee and judging by the acrid smell of vomit in every gutter and the staggering patrons still trying to find their cars, maybe it was just as well I missed it.

I swore I was going to hit some small highways and I did. I ended up following the path of the civil rights marches across Mississippi, Alabama and into Georgia. This was a beautiful ride. History everywhere, I looked for every old shack and run down store I could find and saw a few, I kept hoping I would see people sitting on the porch and hear blues coming from a small bar, but no. 

The road crossed into an area called the Natchez Trace Parkway a a 444-mile drive through exceptional scenery and 10,000 years of North American history from Indians to Colonial Plantations. I was in a bit of a hurry since I was going to try to meet a friend in Atlanta, so I skipped the tour and stuck to looking at the few remaining "old South" relics along the highway. As I drove the same path that the marches had followed I could not help but think of the courage and amazing restraint the early civil rights movement had shown. The History of mankind was changed by so many events along these roads, it is a shame that more is not done to preserve these sights. 

so many pretty lakes.

Little place off the road, great food, very crowded.

I had not had Okra since I was a child.

still open for business, just not now.

an old turkey ranch.

new turkey ranch, they live better than the farmers.
Big A/C units on each end.

Beal Street

Beal Street

Starbucks! at the end of Beal Street. Across from the Forum.

remnants of the night before. 

people are so friendly in the south.

I was about half way across Alabama and had pulled into the town of Birmingham for a bite to eat. I passed a couple of police officers arresting a man and another giving a ticket, suddenly a pickup swerves up next to me and a guy leans out the window tapping his head, yelling Helmet law!  I pulled over and had to laugh, I had driven nearly half the state without one and no police had noticed. Really should have checked that out in more detail.

Tom Houck and Steven Houck

Atlanta was every bit the beautiful city it is made out to be and at the same time it is hit me as a sad reminder of how slowly some things change. For the most part people in Atlanta are wonderful and warm and make you feel right at home. I found a motel by the airport and although it was a bit seedy for a brand name motel, I was happy to have a place to rest. I was excited to finally get to meet my friend and possible cousin? Tom Houck. (I was an hour late because I had not kept my clock on the bike moving forward with the time changes, sorry again Tom!) I have been friends with Tom for several years over facebook and some phone conversations, but we had never actually met. Tom Houck has a unique place in history, he was Dr. Martin Luther King's driver during the civil rights movement and was close to not only Dr. King but also his family. He is currently working on a book about those times, as well as constantly being very influential in the background of national politics and civil rights issues. Tom and I had a great time drinking and talking at a local eatery/bar he introduced me to some of his friends and we solidified what I'm sure will be a long and eventful friendship. I look forward to his book and his next visit to Los Angeles.  Upon returning to my motel that night I was surprised to be blocked from entering the parking lot by the local pimp, who thought that maybe I needed a passenger for the back of my bike. After some discussion, I assured him all I needed was some sleep. Thankfully, I was allowed to go to my room free of escort or further charges. I slept quite well and was off the next morning to chase twisties in the hills of North Carolina.

Atlanta at night.