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bobh
Jedi Warrior
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I promised to post this when I found a copy. For those of you who are interested in the report from our 3330 mile trip in a 1975 TR6 here it is.
I wrote this for some friends who are not British car owners. In fact they are not particularly interested in working on their cars. Some of the information is well known among the hard core British Car aficionados, but needed a minor explanation for others.
I hope you enjoy this and that it will inspire you to take a long trip in your British car. It's a little long, but then again it is the account of a 3330 mile journey...
In spite of the naysayers, drunken Indians, cheap Chinese hoteliers, torrential desert rains, bad gas, questionable cuisine, The Prince of Darkness, Missing Elk, Falling Rocks, 3 pound pine cones, crumbling foam, over priced meteorites, under aged girls and over zealous patrolman we completed our cross country adventure in fine style.
The Triumph performed just as I expected. A heavy clutch, heavy steering, lots of wind noise and nearly non existent heat coupled with the classic coal cart ride. The essence of a traditional British sports car! Life is good! Other than the admiring glances and positive comments there is nothing a modern woman can appreciate about a TR6. As the man on Top Gear said "It's a blokes car".
We left Kingston on Sat around 11:00 AM. Rode the ferry across the Puget Sound to Seattle then headed south on I5. It rained most of the day, which was fine since we didn't have any particular plans to stop in Washington. The first night we stayed near Newport Oregon. I suspect there are numerous gay couples traveling through Newport. We stopped at a place to get a room where the clerk asked if we needed one bed or two. For $103 I would expect 4 beds and a champagne fountain. (it was an average place with a nice view of the bay) We settled for a room at a small hotel run by a Chinese guy and his wife? They advertised a free continental breakfast. The interpretation of continental breakfast must have lost something between English and Chinese. Their version was awful coffee, a loaf of bread and a toaster. Apparently there was also a bag of cereal in the fridge. It was too early in the trip to risk my stomach. We stopped for gas, cokes and a couple of cinnamon rolls instead.
Throughout Washington, Oregon and northern California the young girls continued to wave at us as we passed. While we were working on the cooling system one young lady pulled up and gave us "The Stare". She turned up the music and started rocking her head back and forth to the beat. Then smiled and waved. The only thing I can guess is she forgot to wear her glasses. After she went into the mini store I think the guys told her we were old fogies. When she came out she was a it less enthusiastic about making our acquaintance. Be still my beating heart.
The coast of Oregon is a national treasure. Steve was in awe. I imagine BC shares a similar coastline. It's worth the effort to take the family to see these places. Magnificent is too weak a word to describe the beauty of the ocean, trees and rocks. We stayed in Brookings, which is near the Ca border, on Sun night. Our total mileage for Saturday and Sunday was probably less than 400.
On Monday we headed for the redwoods. They are everything we expected and more. Giants! The largest we saw had a 15' diameter trunk. Trees half that size were enough to put a lump in your throat. They were awesome. We saw logging trucks carrying only 3 and 4 logs as a full load. We couldn't tell if they were redwoods, but they were huge. Along the road were several places that sell figures carved from massive pieces of wood. In front of one of the casinos was a huge chair with a 5 or 6' salmon for the back, carved from a single piece of wood. I need to figure out how to buy one of those and get it shipped here.
A drunken Indian came swaggering and swaying out of the casino. He was under the control of the elements. When the wind shifted so did his direction of travel. Much too early to be in that shape. Kind of sad to see someone in that condition.
After overdosing on the redwoods we headed across Ca to Redding. The road, 299 ?, went through the mountains following the Trinity River. It was sports car heaven. Twists and turns galore. Steve drove for awhile while I tried to snooze. I think he was hoping I would let him keep driving, but I kicked him out. The difference in landscape between these mountains and the coast was drastic. From lush green forests with very little light penetrating the canopy to drier hills with tall straight Ponderosa pines and scraggly trees of other unknown species. We found some gigantic pine cones. They must weigh 2 pounds each. Look up Digger Pines to see what they look like. One site refers to them as "Combat cones". You would lose a windshield to one of these things.
Redding was typical California. Lovely women driving expensive cars. From there it was on to I5 as we steady stroked our way to Fresno. Fortunately the traffic was not heavy. Monday night we stayed in Fresno. Tuesday morning we headed out setting Flagstaff as the target for the day. We got a little better look at Bakersfield than we expected, or wanted, when Steve ran the tank dry. I woke up from my morning snooze to a sputtering engine. Checking the odometer I realized we had nearly 240 miles on the tank. It's only an 11 1/2 gallon tank. With only 4 gears and cruising at 70+ we were lucky to get 21 mpg. 240 took us over the limit. We pulled off into a rough section of town to search for petrol. The engine died in front of a string of houses that were fortified with fences, big dogs, barred windows and signs promising a swift demise to anyone setting foot on the property.
Since Steve was at the wheel when we ran dry he volunteered to take a hike and find some gas. It took about 30 minutes to find a station that was willing to lend us a container. All the while the homies kept cruising up and down the street sizing up the intruder. Had we been there at night I don't think we would have had 30 minutes. One cool thing on the Triumph is the fuel pump. It's very old fashioned. On the bottom is a priming lever. When you run out of gas you can pump the lever and prime the system. Very convenient when you're in a hurry.
In defense of Steve. I believe the voltage stabilizer is malfunctioning. This little device is mounted on the back side of the dash. It insures that the temperature and fuel gauges see no more than 10 volts. If these were seeing voltage straight from the battery/charging system they would be inaccurate since the voltage varies between 12 and 14 volts. At 10 volts they are consistent and as accurate as necessary. The temperature read high from the time we left Seattle. We drained and flushed the cooling system in Oregon. The old coolant did not appear to be in bad shape and there was no crud ejected during the flush. We refilled with fresh coolant, water and a product called Water Wetter that is supposed to drop the temp another 10 to 20 degrees (American). The temperature gauge continued to read about 3/4 of the way up. When the car died in Bakersfield the gas gauge indicated a little less than 1/4 tank. Both readings are symptoms of a bad stabilizer. I'll work on it this weekend.
We picked up I40 outside of Bakersfield and headed east. I was a little apprehensive about crossing the Mojave Desert. My apprehension was unfounded. We chased a rainstorm all the way into Flagstaff. It was actually quite cool. Along the way we stopped for gas and souvenirs. What trip across the desert would be complete without a steer skull. Fresh from Mexico for $30. That's a bargain, not to mention the decorative excellence when strapped onto the luggage rack next to the Budweiser longneck box full of combat cones.
Strangely we saw no jack rabbits, tumble weeds or abandoned wagon trains. I really can't say where the desert begins and ends. We motored across enjoying the sound of the big six and the scenery. Somewhere along there the terrain began to change as we ascended the mountains toward Flagstaff. The hills and trees looked like elk country, there were plenty of signs warning motorists of the presence of elk. But we never saw any. Elk season was probably open. I suspect they were all checked into hotels waiting for the hunters to leave. Didn't see any deer either.
Arizona was pretty. Of course we stopped to buy some petrified wood. Took an hour to find the pieces we wanted. At first the troll running the flea market and petrified wood shop stuck with us like chewing gum in my moustache. I guess she thought we were high rollers. She was pulling out chunks of rock the size of a Virginia ham. After we point out the limited space in the car she backed off on the big stuff and concentrated on the jewelry. She did bring out a "meteorite" that looked like a burned potato. I liked it, but $6 grand was a little too high. I settled for $5 worth of "wood". By now we were pretty well loaded down with family heirlooms. In fact the wood was stored beneath the passengers knees for the rest of the trip.
There are only 3 positions in this car. First is driving, where your knees are bent so your legs are extended just enough to reach the pedals. You have a little flexibility for your clutch leg on the highway. You can sneak your foot under the pedals to fully extend your leg. Or bring your thigh toward your chest and plant your foot flat on the floor near the front of the seat. Second is in the passenger seat with both knees bent and feet planted flat at the front of the seat. Third is in the passenger seat with your legs fully extended. These can probably be justifiably distilled down to only two positions. Legs straight or knees bent.
British sports cars are amazing in their ability to swallow legs. Looking into the engine bay there is no place for your legs to go. However when you sit in the seat they disappear into the foot wells. The American car manufacturers never captured this mystical mysterious little marvel. I've always been able to see my feet in every American car or truck I've ever been in. Even a Corvette, if I remember correctly. Perhaps that's part of the charm the US never reproduced. That and wiper arms that you can move away from the windshield while you are cleaning the glass.
Flagstaff had the highest elevation and the coldest temperature we encountered. I think it was around 7000 feet. The car was covered in ice in the morning. The mountain to the north was covered in snow.
Motel 6 was the inn of choice. With my AARP card we escaped for $42 per night. We stayed in 3 or 4 of them along the way. Most had some variation on the continental breakfast. Retires people really flocked to the breakfasts. At first I thought it was because they were free. Later I realized it was for the coffee. If you're having trouble going, drink a couple of cups of Motel 6 coffee. Just don't drink the coffee after you check out. Public restrooms are scarce out west.
We burned some gas on Wednesday. Finishing off Arizona, New Mexico and half of Texas in one long run. Flagstaff to Amarillo. The wood shop was actually on this part of the journey. Steve was at the wheel late in the evening when the blue lights of a trooper flashed in the mirror. He wanted the usual license, registration and insurance card. I thought he might give us a hard time because we were running Washington plates and had only a bill of sale and the title. Ah but the spirits were with us that night. The paperwork was acceptable. He did however issue a warning for going 68 is a 65 zone and for "traveling in the left lane". 3 MPH over is hardly a reason to pull someone over. And the "Traveling" law must be unique to Texas. There was no one else on the road, the right lane was well worn and made a rough ride even rougher. I suspect he just wanted to get a closer look at the car. He was young enough that he may never have seen one before. Oh well, another souvenir for Steve to post along with his Route 66 replica sign.
Amarillo and another wonderful Motel 6. We skipped the free food at this one. Opting for the deluxe breakfast at Mickey D's instead. Some fella came in during the night driving a new tractor (truck) with 3 more new tractors riding piggy back on each other. Steve was out in the lot having a smoke and looking over the underside of the new rigs when an old man came by and struck up a conversation. He must have thought Steve was the driver. After a minute Steve said "hey look at this" and pointed to the front axle on one truck. It read "Made in Mexico". When the old man read that he growled and said FUC_ERS! Whew, not what Steve expected, but pretty funny. They talked a little more and Steve mentioned that we stayed the previous night in Flagstaff. He went into a rant about the trains. "Did you hear that darn train whistle?. That SOB blows at every intersection all night long. I'll never stay in that fuc_ing place again!"
The crowd at Mickey D's was almost all over 90. A couple of cowboy hats and a lot old scars from skin cancer removals. Steve was craning to hear the conversation at one particularly active table. I picked up on a few key phrases. "This old gal", "She wasn't real good looking" "This old boy" and a bunch of hooting and howling noises that I can't get my vocal chords to make anymore. After a couple of rounds of coffee and a few tall tales they all climbed into their trucks and lit out of there. God only knows where they were headed. Each one seemed to go a different direction. I suspect they were late getting home and got their retired cowboy asses chewed out by the missus. Either that or the early bird lunch specials were about to kick in at the nearest cafeteria and they all took their own secret shortcut to make sure they grabbed a handicapped space before they were all taken.
On Thursday we really lit the afterburners. Amarillo to Oklahoma and deep into Arkansas. I forgot to write down the mileage in Amarillo so I didn't have an accurate number for the total miles we covered that day. It was somewhere between 700 and 800. Texas and Oklahoma are flat and BORING. I feel for the people who live there. I guess they "don't know no better". That leg of the trip was excruciating. All those aches and pains we ignored or went unnoticed during the scenic parts of the trip came to the surface. My aching butt! Legs, neck and back too. We stopped for gas at a Sinclair station. Haven't seen one of them in decades. Wouldn't mind seeing some more. Their hi test was the cheapest we found on the trip. $2.49 a gallon. That's the cheapest gas I've seen in months and no one was buying it? In fact the station was for sale. If I could bring those prices here I could sell a couple of tankers full every day.
Steve was complaining that we hadn't seen and real cowboys on the trip. The gang at Mickey D's didn't count because there were only about two hats and most of them wore polyester shirts with the tails hanging over their bellies. Oklahoma took care of that problem. Two different cow pokes came in while we were filling up. There were about 6 feet tall and didn't weigh 250 between them. Tall drink of water is an exaggerated description of them boys. More like a denim fence post with a 10 gallon hat. That's not to say they weren't friendly. Both said howdy as they passed. I guess there are a bunch of dogie punchers around there. The bathroom doors were specially cut to accommodate their physiques, about 20 inches wide.
We stayed in Forrest City that night. Settled for a Motel 8, not realizing there was a 6 two exits down. The price was $7 more but the food was better, slightly.
On Friday we hit Memphis. Went to the Pyramid to see The Art Of The Motorcycle. It's an exhibit of motorcycles that originated at the Guggenheim. Quite impressive. They had 90 motorcycles covering everything from a high wheeled bicycle with a steam engine all the way through the fastest road bikes ever made and some very exclusive race machinery. Well worth the detour.
Leaving Memphis wasn't as easy as getting in. We headed south to pick up Highway 72 which runs to Huntsville. I've heard that Memphis is mostly inhabited by blacks but had no idea how densely populated it is. We saw literally hundreds of black men sitting around doing nothing. I don't know what the employment rate is in Memphis but it must be high for black men if the numbers we saw are an indicator. There was a full compliment of thugs driving ratty old cars with huge chrome rims and blaring music. A number of them seemed to be involved in some sort of commerce. I'm not sure we were welcome in that area. It took an hour to make it through due to heavy traffic and some poor drivers.
After getting onto 72 it was only a few hours to Huntsville. We pulled in the drive at 7:00 PM.
I wrote this for some friends who are not British car owners. In fact they are not particularly interested in working on their cars. Some of the information is well known among the hard core British Car aficionados, but needed a minor explanation for others.
I hope you enjoy this and that it will inspire you to take a long trip in your British car. It's a little long, but then again it is the account of a 3330 mile journey...
In spite of the naysayers, drunken Indians, cheap Chinese hoteliers, torrential desert rains, bad gas, questionable cuisine, The Prince of Darkness, Missing Elk, Falling Rocks, 3 pound pine cones, crumbling foam, over priced meteorites, under aged girls and over zealous patrolman we completed our cross country adventure in fine style.
The Triumph performed just as I expected. A heavy clutch, heavy steering, lots of wind noise and nearly non existent heat coupled with the classic coal cart ride. The essence of a traditional British sports car! Life is good! Other than the admiring glances and positive comments there is nothing a modern woman can appreciate about a TR6. As the man on Top Gear said "It's a blokes car".
We left Kingston on Sat around 11:00 AM. Rode the ferry across the Puget Sound to Seattle then headed south on I5. It rained most of the day, which was fine since we didn't have any particular plans to stop in Washington. The first night we stayed near Newport Oregon. I suspect there are numerous gay couples traveling through Newport. We stopped at a place to get a room where the clerk asked if we needed one bed or two. For $103 I would expect 4 beds and a champagne fountain. (it was an average place with a nice view of the bay) We settled for a room at a small hotel run by a Chinese guy and his wife? They advertised a free continental breakfast. The interpretation of continental breakfast must have lost something between English and Chinese. Their version was awful coffee, a loaf of bread and a toaster. Apparently there was also a bag of cereal in the fridge. It was too early in the trip to risk my stomach. We stopped for gas, cokes and a couple of cinnamon rolls instead.
Throughout Washington, Oregon and northern California the young girls continued to wave at us as we passed. While we were working on the cooling system one young lady pulled up and gave us "The Stare". She turned up the music and started rocking her head back and forth to the beat. Then smiled and waved. The only thing I can guess is she forgot to wear her glasses. After she went into the mini store I think the guys told her we were old fogies. When she came out she was a it less enthusiastic about making our acquaintance. Be still my beating heart.
The coast of Oregon is a national treasure. Steve was in awe. I imagine BC shares a similar coastline. It's worth the effort to take the family to see these places. Magnificent is too weak a word to describe the beauty of the ocean, trees and rocks. We stayed in Brookings, which is near the Ca border, on Sun night. Our total mileage for Saturday and Sunday was probably less than 400.
On Monday we headed for the redwoods. They are everything we expected and more. Giants! The largest we saw had a 15' diameter trunk. Trees half that size were enough to put a lump in your throat. They were awesome. We saw logging trucks carrying only 3 and 4 logs as a full load. We couldn't tell if they were redwoods, but they were huge. Along the road were several places that sell figures carved from massive pieces of wood. In front of one of the casinos was a huge chair with a 5 or 6' salmon for the back, carved from a single piece of wood. I need to figure out how to buy one of those and get it shipped here.
A drunken Indian came swaggering and swaying out of the casino. He was under the control of the elements. When the wind shifted so did his direction of travel. Much too early to be in that shape. Kind of sad to see someone in that condition.
After overdosing on the redwoods we headed across Ca to Redding. The road, 299 ?, went through the mountains following the Trinity River. It was sports car heaven. Twists and turns galore. Steve drove for awhile while I tried to snooze. I think he was hoping I would let him keep driving, but I kicked him out. The difference in landscape between these mountains and the coast was drastic. From lush green forests with very little light penetrating the canopy to drier hills with tall straight Ponderosa pines and scraggly trees of other unknown species. We found some gigantic pine cones. They must weigh 2 pounds each. Look up Digger Pines to see what they look like. One site refers to them as "Combat cones". You would lose a windshield to one of these things.
Redding was typical California. Lovely women driving expensive cars. From there it was on to I5 as we steady stroked our way to Fresno. Fortunately the traffic was not heavy. Monday night we stayed in Fresno. Tuesday morning we headed out setting Flagstaff as the target for the day. We got a little better look at Bakersfield than we expected, or wanted, when Steve ran the tank dry. I woke up from my morning snooze to a sputtering engine. Checking the odometer I realized we had nearly 240 miles on the tank. It's only an 11 1/2 gallon tank. With only 4 gears and cruising at 70+ we were lucky to get 21 mpg. 240 took us over the limit. We pulled off into a rough section of town to search for petrol. The engine died in front of a string of houses that were fortified with fences, big dogs, barred windows and signs promising a swift demise to anyone setting foot on the property.
Since Steve was at the wheel when we ran dry he volunteered to take a hike and find some gas. It took about 30 minutes to find a station that was willing to lend us a container. All the while the homies kept cruising up and down the street sizing up the intruder. Had we been there at night I don't think we would have had 30 minutes. One cool thing on the Triumph is the fuel pump. It's very old fashioned. On the bottom is a priming lever. When you run out of gas you can pump the lever and prime the system. Very convenient when you're in a hurry.
In defense of Steve. I believe the voltage stabilizer is malfunctioning. This little device is mounted on the back side of the dash. It insures that the temperature and fuel gauges see no more than 10 volts. If these were seeing voltage straight from the battery/charging system they would be inaccurate since the voltage varies between 12 and 14 volts. At 10 volts they are consistent and as accurate as necessary. The temperature read high from the time we left Seattle. We drained and flushed the cooling system in Oregon. The old coolant did not appear to be in bad shape and there was no crud ejected during the flush. We refilled with fresh coolant, water and a product called Water Wetter that is supposed to drop the temp another 10 to 20 degrees (American). The temperature gauge continued to read about 3/4 of the way up. When the car died in Bakersfield the gas gauge indicated a little less than 1/4 tank. Both readings are symptoms of a bad stabilizer. I'll work on it this weekend.
We picked up I40 outside of Bakersfield and headed east. I was a little apprehensive about crossing the Mojave Desert. My apprehension was unfounded. We chased a rainstorm all the way into Flagstaff. It was actually quite cool. Along the way we stopped for gas and souvenirs. What trip across the desert would be complete without a steer skull. Fresh from Mexico for $30. That's a bargain, not to mention the decorative excellence when strapped onto the luggage rack next to the Budweiser longneck box full of combat cones.
Strangely we saw no jack rabbits, tumble weeds or abandoned wagon trains. I really can't say where the desert begins and ends. We motored across enjoying the sound of the big six and the scenery. Somewhere along there the terrain began to change as we ascended the mountains toward Flagstaff. The hills and trees looked like elk country, there were plenty of signs warning motorists of the presence of elk. But we never saw any. Elk season was probably open. I suspect they were all checked into hotels waiting for the hunters to leave. Didn't see any deer either.
Arizona was pretty. Of course we stopped to buy some petrified wood. Took an hour to find the pieces we wanted. At first the troll running the flea market and petrified wood shop stuck with us like chewing gum in my moustache. I guess she thought we were high rollers. She was pulling out chunks of rock the size of a Virginia ham. After we point out the limited space in the car she backed off on the big stuff and concentrated on the jewelry. She did bring out a "meteorite" that looked like a burned potato. I liked it, but $6 grand was a little too high. I settled for $5 worth of "wood". By now we were pretty well loaded down with family heirlooms. In fact the wood was stored beneath the passengers knees for the rest of the trip.
There are only 3 positions in this car. First is driving, where your knees are bent so your legs are extended just enough to reach the pedals. You have a little flexibility for your clutch leg on the highway. You can sneak your foot under the pedals to fully extend your leg. Or bring your thigh toward your chest and plant your foot flat on the floor near the front of the seat. Second is in the passenger seat with both knees bent and feet planted flat at the front of the seat. Third is in the passenger seat with your legs fully extended. These can probably be justifiably distilled down to only two positions. Legs straight or knees bent.
British sports cars are amazing in their ability to swallow legs. Looking into the engine bay there is no place for your legs to go. However when you sit in the seat they disappear into the foot wells. The American car manufacturers never captured this mystical mysterious little marvel. I've always been able to see my feet in every American car or truck I've ever been in. Even a Corvette, if I remember correctly. Perhaps that's part of the charm the US never reproduced. That and wiper arms that you can move away from the windshield while you are cleaning the glass.
Flagstaff had the highest elevation and the coldest temperature we encountered. I think it was around 7000 feet. The car was covered in ice in the morning. The mountain to the north was covered in snow.
Motel 6 was the inn of choice. With my AARP card we escaped for $42 per night. We stayed in 3 or 4 of them along the way. Most had some variation on the continental breakfast. Retires people really flocked to the breakfasts. At first I thought it was because they were free. Later I realized it was for the coffee. If you're having trouble going, drink a couple of cups of Motel 6 coffee. Just don't drink the coffee after you check out. Public restrooms are scarce out west.
We burned some gas on Wednesday. Finishing off Arizona, New Mexico and half of Texas in one long run. Flagstaff to Amarillo. The wood shop was actually on this part of the journey. Steve was at the wheel late in the evening when the blue lights of a trooper flashed in the mirror. He wanted the usual license, registration and insurance card. I thought he might give us a hard time because we were running Washington plates and had only a bill of sale and the title. Ah but the spirits were with us that night. The paperwork was acceptable. He did however issue a warning for going 68 is a 65 zone and for "traveling in the left lane". 3 MPH over is hardly a reason to pull someone over. And the "Traveling" law must be unique to Texas. There was no one else on the road, the right lane was well worn and made a rough ride even rougher. I suspect he just wanted to get a closer look at the car. He was young enough that he may never have seen one before. Oh well, another souvenir for Steve to post along with his Route 66 replica sign.
Amarillo and another wonderful Motel 6. We skipped the free food at this one. Opting for the deluxe breakfast at Mickey D's instead. Some fella came in during the night driving a new tractor (truck) with 3 more new tractors riding piggy back on each other. Steve was out in the lot having a smoke and looking over the underside of the new rigs when an old man came by and struck up a conversation. He must have thought Steve was the driver. After a minute Steve said "hey look at this" and pointed to the front axle on one truck. It read "Made in Mexico". When the old man read that he growled and said FUC_ERS! Whew, not what Steve expected, but pretty funny. They talked a little more and Steve mentioned that we stayed the previous night in Flagstaff. He went into a rant about the trains. "Did you hear that darn train whistle?. That SOB blows at every intersection all night long. I'll never stay in that fuc_ing place again!"
The crowd at Mickey D's was almost all over 90. A couple of cowboy hats and a lot old scars from skin cancer removals. Steve was craning to hear the conversation at one particularly active table. I picked up on a few key phrases. "This old gal", "She wasn't real good looking" "This old boy" and a bunch of hooting and howling noises that I can't get my vocal chords to make anymore. After a couple of rounds of coffee and a few tall tales they all climbed into their trucks and lit out of there. God only knows where they were headed. Each one seemed to go a different direction. I suspect they were late getting home and got their retired cowboy asses chewed out by the missus. Either that or the early bird lunch specials were about to kick in at the nearest cafeteria and they all took their own secret shortcut to make sure they grabbed a handicapped space before they were all taken.
On Thursday we really lit the afterburners. Amarillo to Oklahoma and deep into Arkansas. I forgot to write down the mileage in Amarillo so I didn't have an accurate number for the total miles we covered that day. It was somewhere between 700 and 800. Texas and Oklahoma are flat and BORING. I feel for the people who live there. I guess they "don't know no better". That leg of the trip was excruciating. All those aches and pains we ignored or went unnoticed during the scenic parts of the trip came to the surface. My aching butt! Legs, neck and back too. We stopped for gas at a Sinclair station. Haven't seen one of them in decades. Wouldn't mind seeing some more. Their hi test was the cheapest we found on the trip. $2.49 a gallon. That's the cheapest gas I've seen in months and no one was buying it? In fact the station was for sale. If I could bring those prices here I could sell a couple of tankers full every day.
Steve was complaining that we hadn't seen and real cowboys on the trip. The gang at Mickey D's didn't count because there were only about two hats and most of them wore polyester shirts with the tails hanging over their bellies. Oklahoma took care of that problem. Two different cow pokes came in while we were filling up. There were about 6 feet tall and didn't weigh 250 between them. Tall drink of water is an exaggerated description of them boys. More like a denim fence post with a 10 gallon hat. That's not to say they weren't friendly. Both said howdy as they passed. I guess there are a bunch of dogie punchers around there. The bathroom doors were specially cut to accommodate their physiques, about 20 inches wide.
We stayed in Forrest City that night. Settled for a Motel 8, not realizing there was a 6 two exits down. The price was $7 more but the food was better, slightly.
On Friday we hit Memphis. Went to the Pyramid to see The Art Of The Motorcycle. It's an exhibit of motorcycles that originated at the Guggenheim. Quite impressive. They had 90 motorcycles covering everything from a high wheeled bicycle with a steam engine all the way through the fastest road bikes ever made and some very exclusive race machinery. Well worth the detour.
Leaving Memphis wasn't as easy as getting in. We headed south to pick up Highway 72 which runs to Huntsville. I've heard that Memphis is mostly inhabited by blacks but had no idea how densely populated it is. We saw literally hundreds of black men sitting around doing nothing. I don't know what the employment rate is in Memphis but it must be high for black men if the numbers we saw are an indicator. There was a full compliment of thugs driving ratty old cars with huge chrome rims and blaring music. A number of them seemed to be involved in some sort of commerce. I'm not sure we were welcome in that area. It took an hour to make it through due to heavy traffic and some poor drivers.
After getting onto 72 it was only a few hours to Huntsville. We pulled in the drive at 7:00 PM.
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