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.