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We made a decision, (really the vote was tied at 2-2 with Dwayne
and I winning out), to reroute and go South and then East across the
Florida coastline instead of continuing due East in the violent
storm. This was a big mistake, as Mother Nature garnered strength
and turned the storm South with us. We rode for several hours in a
torrential downpour and only stopped when we just couldn't see
anymore. I was, once again, in the lead going a slow 40 mph on a
dark, black, two lane divided highway with no center lines and very
little traffic. I watched as lightening flashed across the
sky. I counted “1001, 1002...” and the thunder boomed proving
just how close the deadly lightening was to us. I searched for our
exit, but never saw the sign. I knew we had to have passed it
already, but there was nowhere to stop, turning back was not an option,
so I trudged forward. Finally, at the height of the storm, in a
sleepy little town, I saw the light of a Waffle House ahead and
carefully pulled into the wet, steeply sloped driveway and parked.
We were all wet inside our rain gear and shivering cold, as we
made our entrance and found a table. We were promptly greeted by a
waitress who looked at us with pity and hurriedly seated us while
serving up hot coffee. There was no one in the little cafe except
employees who were sitting at an adjacent table, taking a break since
customers were scarce. They stared intently at us and expressed
disbelief when we explained that we had come from Shreveport and had
been riding in this weather all day. The waitress explained that
the area was still affected by the winds and rains of hurricanes Katrina
and Rita the previous September, and to our misfortune, some of the road
signs were missing, and to our greater misfortune, the one road sign we
needed was missing and had not yet been replaced. The
waitress informed us that we had missed our exit some way back, and
after we looked at the map, we decided it would now be closer to follow
this secondary road. She warned that the bad weather was not gone,
and in fact, would continue throughout the evening and early morning
hours. Warmed by the courtesy of the waitress, the hot beverages
and the heat of the room, we said our goodbyes and assured her that we
would be very careful.
Back
on the bikes, with the rain coming down as hard as ever, I bravely took
the lead again, and in a short period of time found a little hotel,
restaurant, bar and convenience store on the side of the
road. The neon hotel sign, missing letters due to lights
burned out, was foggy giving it an eerie look. The hotel
itself was surrounded by a mist and the sight was akin to something you
might see in a B rated horror movie such as “Motel Hell” or
“Joy Ride”. As scary as it looked, it was not as scary as
continuing to ride, and I made the decision to stop for the night if a
room was available. I signaled my left turn and we soon found
ourselves on a sandy, wet gravel surface which was full of holes to be
avoided as we maneuvered our way up in front of the sign simply bearing
the words “office”. Only one room was available, fortunately a
double, and the rate was a cheap $60 per night, so Dwayne whipped out
his credit card, and we booked it. This night we would have paid
much more for much less comfortable accommodations.
In
the morning, the rain had cleared and as we looked around, the
surroundings were not near as bad as they appeared to be in the storm of
the last evening. We took turns taking showers and turned on the
tv in the little hotel room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watched
the weather station, which revealed that if we had continued East
through Meridian, we would have ridden out of the storm in only a short
time. But then, I wouldn’t have this story to tell, would
I? And, because we went this way I got to cross two bridges that I
would otherwise not have had the pleasure of crossing. Those of
you who have been reading my stories know of my uncanny fascination with
bridges. First, I had the privilege of riding over the rickety
Mobile Bay Bridge. This bridge had been damaged in the hurricanes
and was being rebuilt. One side was closed down, and we had one
narrow lane in which to cross. The surface was a slick metal
grating and the trip across provided a harrowing view of the angry
waters below. Fascinated, yet a little scared, I gripped tightly
on my bars as the metal grate caused the front wheel frequently to
steer off to the left or right without my assistance, and I had to
maintain the straight line. Although an experience I treasure,
still I was relieved when we reached the end of the bridge.
I
also got to ride through Charleston, a city I had never before
visited. It has a beautiful span bridge which we rode across, a
smile upon my face the entire time, and to this day it is one of my
favorites; just behind the mighty Mississippi river bridge in Vicksburg,
which I cannot explain my feelings about. I think she’s like an
old friend that I get to visit whenever I’m heading east on a road
trip, and therefore has some significance to me as a symbol of carefree
travel.
We
had a wonderful time at Bike Week in Myrtle Beach under clear skies, but
the rain that had so tortured us on our trip out, would once again
threaten us on our way back. I was in the lead, followed by Ric,
and Sue and Dwayne. As the rain drops began to fall, I noticed an
overpass, and immediately signaled that I was pulling over, and Ric
followed suit. But, Dwayne either wasn't paying attention or
missed my signal. He couldn't stop in time, and rolled on by
us. As he passed the safety of the overpass, the sky opened up and
the hail began to fall. Dwayne and Sue were 100 yards from us, out
in the open and were feverishly trying to get their rain gear on, while
dashing toward some trees for cover. I was laughing so hard at the
sight that I had trouble putting on my own rain gear. The storm
passed by quickly and Ric and I were dry, but it was enough to
soak Sue and Dwayne. Finally, I had done something right
concerning the rain, and there was no chastising me this time.
(cont.) |
