So says she who thinks her husband looks hot in leather pants on a "hooker's fingernail red" sport-tourer. That means the blue/red/gold/purple flipflop paint I demo-ed for her is a no go. She went through her fingernail polish collection (quite extensive), picked out the appropriate red bottle and promptly jumped into her Jeep to find Big Red's new color scheme. Big Red/Blue/Gold/Purple just doesn't have the same ring to it now does it?
Over the last few months I had come home with several different red colours of paint but once I tried them next to the bike I was never satisfied. The wife goes out and with one shot finds the perfect colour.
The moral of the story?
Never send a man to do a woman's job.
Friday, April 15, 2005
Day 3 - Natchez
Breakfast at the motel in Jackson, They had a waffle maker fer Christ's sake!The pope's funeral is on the telly. How do you bury one guy in three boxes?
The trace dtours around Jackson, so we went the long way around. That is; the long wrong all the way around. But, hey, we're here to ride, so what the hell?
The sun is out in full force and we quickly find ourselves shedding gear. This is not a big problem on the Trace as it is a leisurely ride with no surprises save the local wildlife kamkazeein' ya' every so often. The list of which grows by a fox and two turkeys. The fox had it timed just right, but did a 'U' turn right at the edge of the pavement touching his nose to his tail in the maneuver. Shucks! I was already figurin' out how to get his hide back to the house to made a nifty fur something out of him.....
We tooled along at a stately 60 mph for the 90 miles to Natchez and headed straight for 'Natchez - Under the Hill". For those of you not in the know, Natchez Under the Hill is a group of taverns, shops, and cafe's on the waterfront where the dock used to be for the riverboats to ply their trade. Rainman and I dined at the same cafe' that Nate and I visited last yaer and I had the 'Shrimp, Chicken, Okra Gumbo'. Delicious. Rainman expressed his satisfaction at the dining experience, though I could tell he was lookin' around for something else to stick a fork into. The man has a bottomless stomach I tell ya'.
We took a stroll along the waterfront and I was dissapointed that the Mississippi Queen was not in port, instead one of those uglyassed gambling boats was there with an ant trail of retired suckers marching in and out. Ugh.
more to come.-
The trace dtours around Jackson, so we went the long way around. That is; the long wrong all the way around. But, hey, we're here to ride, so what the hell?
The sun is out in full force and we quickly find ourselves shedding gear. This is not a big problem on the Trace as it is a leisurely ride with no surprises save the local wildlife kamkazeein' ya' every so often. The list of which grows by a fox and two turkeys. The fox had it timed just right, but did a 'U' turn right at the edge of the pavement touching his nose to his tail in the maneuver. Shucks! I was already figurin' out how to get his hide back to the house to made a nifty fur something out of him.....
We tooled along at a stately 60 mph for the 90 miles to Natchez and headed straight for 'Natchez - Under the Hill". For those of you not in the know, Natchez Under the Hill is a group of taverns, shops, and cafe's on the waterfront where the dock used to be for the riverboats to ply their trade. Rainman and I dined at the same cafe' that Nate and I visited last yaer and I had the 'Shrimp, Chicken, Okra Gumbo'. Delicious. Rainman expressed his satisfaction at the dining experience, though I could tell he was lookin' around for something else to stick a fork into. The man has a bottomless stomach I tell ya'.
We took a stroll along the waterfront and I was dissapointed that the Mississippi Queen was not in port, instead one of those uglyassed gambling boats was there with an ant trail of retired suckers marching in and out. Ugh.
more to come.-
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Day 2 continued
Two guys on the road can be a little uncomfortable sometimes. There are times when you catch yourself; “WHAT the hell did I just say?!” For instance:
Rainman and I were at the cash register of the Mexican restaurant In Jackson Miss.after a hearty meal and a Corona when Rainman asks the lady, “Do you know of any motels around here?”
Now, look at this objectively. Two guys in motorcycle attire (we're stylin' I'm tellin' ya'! I'm decked out racerboy and Rainman looks...., well, like he rides a V(iagra) twin bike) are standing there and want to know where the motel is. I don’t know about you, but I get a mental picture of the Village People.
Of course when I brought this to Rainman’s attention he laughed himself silly. Ya’ see what I’m dealin’ with here? It gets worse.
We go to the Comfort Inn and the nice lady behind the desk starts tellin’ us about a customer she gets that actually puts his bike in the room with him and then she asks, “Are you two on the same motorcycle?” like one of us is ridin’ ‘bitch’! I just shook my head. Of course, the reason she wanted to know this was so she could express that she didn’t think both bikes would fit into one room. You don’t get service like that just anywhere.
Rainman and I were at the cash register of the Mexican restaurant In Jackson Miss.after a hearty meal and a Corona when Rainman asks the lady, “Do you know of any motels around here?”
Now, look at this objectively. Two guys in motorcycle attire (we're stylin' I'm tellin' ya'! I'm decked out racerboy and Rainman looks...., well, like he rides a V(iagra) twin bike) are standing there and want to know where the motel is. I don’t know about you, but I get a mental picture of the Village People.
Of course when I brought this to Rainman’s attention he laughed himself silly. Ya’ see what I’m dealin’ with here? It gets worse.
We go to the Comfort Inn and the nice lady behind the desk starts tellin’ us about a customer she gets that actually puts his bike in the room with him and then she asks, “Are you two on the same motorcycle?” like one of us is ridin’ ‘bitch’! I just shook my head. Of course, the reason she wanted to know this was so she could express that she didn’t think both bikes would fit into one room. You don’t get service like that just anywhere.
Day 2
Up at the crack of dawn, haven’t slept so sound in awhile. We turn on the local news for the weather report. Scattered showers from here north with decreasing probability as you go South. Some jerk killed a girl and dumped her body on the Trace. Hmmmmmmmm. Of course, I’m carryin’. I checked the chamber for potential energy and good to go.
The morning was cool and we headed out in full gear, haulin’ ass when rain clouds blocked the sun and slowing to soak up those precious rays when they burned through the clouds melancholy hold on them. We played the bikes down the road. No hurry, no worries; free on the open road with the anticipation of discovery around the next bend.
We hoofed up to an overlook to get some blood flowing and forestall rider fatigue. There are quite a few nice overlooks on the Trace and from the terrain you wouldn’t expect them. Well worth the effort. Once again the Wild Turkey were out strutting, and we saw a few crane or heron, I don’t know which but they were white. There had been a big storm through Alabama and northern Mississippi and there was evidence of high water all around. It made a lot of the area swampish
Lunch was in a town off the Trace called Saltillo, at a local interest called “Little Charlie’s”. Little Charlie’s had a special on a double cheeseburger plate so Rainman and I took the plunge. Damn what a sandwich! There was easily 3/4lbs. of meat on the burger. I didn’t quite finish mine, but Rainman has a legendary appetite and soon put his away. Excellent meal. Greasy, tasty, with a BIG glass of sweet tea.
While we were eating some locals wandered in, checking out the bikes as they filed by. I took the opportunity to explain to Rainman the difference in appeal of a sportbike and the Mothership. See, on a sportbike, you’re pretty much a rockstar, an object of envy of men and the desire of women. (In case you don’t know, that’s a good thing.) The Mothership attracts a different crowd populated chiefly by old men with canes (they think it looks comfortable) and fat chicks (they think it won’t collapse under their asses), so we had a big time confirming my theory as the local liars hobbled in for their noon coffee.
We rode on to Jackson, Ms. without much of note except for a stop at the Pearl River where Nate and I had paused on our journey last year. It’s still a hell of a spot, Bro.
We ate Mexican in Jackson and tucked in for the night at a Comfort Inn. There’s a tale there, but it’ll have to wait.
The morning was cool and we headed out in full gear, haulin’ ass when rain clouds blocked the sun and slowing to soak up those precious rays when they burned through the clouds melancholy hold on them. We played the bikes down the road. No hurry, no worries; free on the open road with the anticipation of discovery around the next bend.
We hoofed up to an overlook to get some blood flowing and forestall rider fatigue. There are quite a few nice overlooks on the Trace and from the terrain you wouldn’t expect them. Well worth the effort. Once again the Wild Turkey were out strutting, and we saw a few crane or heron, I don’t know which but they were white. There had been a big storm through Alabama and northern Mississippi and there was evidence of high water all around. It made a lot of the area swampish
Lunch was in a town off the Trace called Saltillo, at a local interest called “Little Charlie’s”. Little Charlie’s had a special on a double cheeseburger plate so Rainman and I took the plunge. Damn what a sandwich! There was easily 3/4lbs. of meat on the burger. I didn’t quite finish mine, but Rainman has a legendary appetite and soon put his away. Excellent meal. Greasy, tasty, with a BIG glass of sweet tea.
While we were eating some locals wandered in, checking out the bikes as they filed by. I took the opportunity to explain to Rainman the difference in appeal of a sportbike and the Mothership. See, on a sportbike, you’re pretty much a rockstar, an object of envy of men and the desire of women. (In case you don’t know, that’s a good thing.) The Mothership attracts a different crowd populated chiefly by old men with canes (they think it looks comfortable) and fat chicks (they think it won’t collapse under their asses), so we had a big time confirming my theory as the local liars hobbled in for their noon coffee.
We rode on to Jackson, Ms. without much of note except for a stop at the Pearl River where Nate and I had paused on our journey last year. It’s still a hell of a spot, Bro.
We ate Mexican in Jackson and tucked in for the night at a Comfort Inn. There’s a tale there, but it’ll have to wait.
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