Historical Post: 9907 XC bike tour, Vol 8

Friday
OK, is this going to end soon???

We start off the day an hour or more before daybreak, with cliff at the helm. He is highly motivated and primed from the get go. We have decided that we need to make 300 miles today if we are going to make Savannah on Monday, otherwise it’s Tuesday or Wednesday am. Tom and I are in he chase vehicle. We of course loose him in the first 5 miles again, when we blow a turn and drive off into Mississippi. You do NOT want to be in Mississippi in lycra...

An hour or so later we finally reel him back in - he’s been holding better than 22mph for the entire time and looks like he just came out of a pool, bathed in sweat. We blame snowbunny (Gill) for giving us bad directions.

We decide that the three of us will make the haul all the way up to and through Little Rock, mainly because Tom and I have the most city riding experience and we don’t know what to expect there in terms of traffic, personal risk, etc. It’s ~ 160 miles that we have to bury and we go for it. Along the way we go through Hope, the home town of President (when Hillary lets him be that role) Bill. A pitiful excuse for a town, and we couldn’t even find one “get your picture taken with Bill” stand, or any historical markers. Of course, as expected, every corner we came to had a real ugly woman with real big lips. Now it all makes sense….Chris is devastated...no trailer parks anywhere; he's been waiting for this the whole trip.

Cliff and I stop at a little diner in the metropolis of Prescott, AK to grab breakfast. This easily wins the (a) most pitiful, (b) most repulsive, (c) slowest, (d) worst food, (e) worst service, and (f) scariest locals. Everyone was sittin’ starin’ and pointin’ at us, whisperin’ under their breaths. They’d obviously never seen anyone other than their immediate family (which obviously was everyone in the town), lycra, bikes without baskets, or any vehicle other than a pickup. Scary….we ate quick and scooted back onto the road.

I’m sick most of the morning, probably from the Mexican food the night before. Tough to ride when you’re stomach’s making more noises than the cannons in the civil war. Speaking of which, they really don’t know that it ended down here. Lots of confederate flags in pickup windows, flying from houses, and painted on walls. Someone ought to inform them…not going to be us however, not dressed like this.

On the way to Little Rock, the road we’re on ends at an interstate – no warning, just tertiary road then freeway onramp. We backtrack a bit and find a 200+ year old bridge over a bayou that Tom rides. It was scary – we’re unsure that it will even support a bike much less the van, and unlikely the RV. Then, we run across my personal vote for most moronic highway architecture. This road routes people down a 2 way freeway frontage road with yield signs facing the freeway exits which have no traffic control at all. Incredible – cars going 40-50 with cars coming off the freeway at 70+ head on. Brakes squealing everywhere, and the scene repeated itself 6 TIMES over the next 2 miles. This stretch has GOT to lead the nation in car accidents.

Little Rock was a dump of a town, two skyscrapers, and an ugly riverfront. Bill should be proud of his legacy there. We plow through and switch teams a few miles past at a most scary shopping center. First, they’ve got a store actually called “Jesus loves you”. It’s out of business, so I’m pretty happy. Tom hits the drug store, which has beer, some drugs, and toasters – and that’s it. Two people are arguing about whether they have to speak with each other – he even looses it. A huge southern black guy asks me what I’m doing in these here parts. I tell him, and he’s amazed, wanting to hear lots more. He tells his mother (about 100 years old) at the bus stop about the trip, and comes back over to ask even more questions. He leaves me with a “god will bless me” and goes on his way. Interesting dialog….

I outrun the sag into East Little Rock, and my stop point turns out to be another shopping center in a really bad part of town. As I pull in, about 20 really drunk black guys come meandering over to me. "Boy, you's in the wrong part of town". I resort to my time-proven line "Hey, can I grab a beer from you, I'm freakin' thirsty". Well, they hand over a beer, and we spend the next 20 minutes talking about what a skinny, lycra-clad, Yankee, white boy is doing in these parts. We end up bonding, and having a great time. Around the bend comes the group in the sag, and they pull up thinking "Oh my god, what has Lumpy done this time?". Turns out the black guys don't want to see us go, and we end up drinking beers with them for another hour or so. All in all, a great afternoon in Arkansas!

We blow through the evening, and grab a motel in Forrest City, a truck stop of a place along the interstate. The motel has everything we need – a pool, an air conditioner, and a woman with no teeth. Tom and I go out to the pool and there’s this couple and their son – now this is Arkansas at it’s best. The boyfriend is teaching the kid to swim – come here boy or I’ll throw you in the water, boy, get wet boy, go get me a beer boy. This kid did not have a name – just “boy”. The mother comes into the pool with (a) a ratty bikini bottom halfway down her cheesy butt crack, a loose tank top with no swim suit underneath, a cig with about 2 inches of ashes, a bottle of beer, and no teeth – no, Tom corrected me on that, she did have two teeth on her left side. She too yelled at boy to “go get my cigarettes”, “go get me a beer”, and “go find my teeth (ok, so I made that one up!)”. An absolutely scary threesome. Chris meets her around back later that evening.

We grab a late night dinner at the Bonanza (cheepo chain steak joint) – emptying the salad bar and Cliff eats 2 steaks. They definitely loose money on us.