BIG BEND 2009
  
 

Day 05

March 1

  
 

I can tell that outside of my sleeping bag (which is good down to 5 degrees), it is really, really cold. I don't even want to get up out of the enveloping warmth, but I hear others stirring about so I figure I'd better get after it. It turns out to be a balmy 21 degrees which sort of hits you like hammer upside the head. I know the sooner I get Frost packed, the sooner I can get my electric clothes fired up so I get busy. But this morning, whether it's accumulated fatigue or the cold, I just can't seem to get it together. As I'm packing up, I tell Andy -

"You're gonna have to watch me today - I just don't have it together."

One thing you better learn is to know your state of mind when you are riding long distances and watch yourself accordingly. As I always say

"The most dangerous man in the world is a man who doesn't know what he doesn't know."

In this cold, my hands just don't want to work right, which makes packing up a real chore. I just can't seem to get things put away like I want, but I finally get the job done and get my stuff stashed in the bags or strapped on. I walk over by the picnic table to make sure that I have taken care of my trash. One of the riders tells me

"'Don't worry Phil, I'll take care of that."

"Well, it don't seem right for one man to do cleanup, so I'll tote some of this stuff over to the dumpster" and I do.

When we are both ready to roll, we bid good-bye to the folks that are still standing around. On the way out, I have to snap this sign on the back of the gate - a phrase that I use all the time.

 
 
 
 

Joe has told us that the simplest way to get back to I20 is just to follow 17 north until we get there, so that's what we do. It's another long, lonesome road but we can make pretty good time.

  
 
 
 

It's a quick trip through Balmorhea, then we're on I10 and on our way to I20. As I slowly get warmed up, my stomach sends me a message asking if my throat has been cut. We didn't get breakfast before we got on the road, and the beast is crying to be fed. I keep looking for something familiar, but nothing shows up at our first gas stop. As we approach Abilene, I see a 'Buck's Steaks and Bar-B-Q' sign with plenty of cars out front. It looks like it will work, and there's gas at the exit also. So we pull off and fill the bikes before we fill ourselves. The restaurant has the quite a few Sunday diners but the service is great. I order up some Texas brisket and Andy gets a Texas burger. Neither one of us are disappointed. When my plate arrives, I tell Andy -

'Now this is what Texas brisket is all about. Nice and tender and you can cut it with a fork."

And it tastes as good as it looks! Andy's hamburger is pretty tasty judging by the way he attacks it so, so this place goes in the memory book.

  
 
 
 
When we go back outside, we try to determine just how many layers we can take off, since we know that Dallas will be a lot warmer than this. That's the nice thing about dressing in layers - at least you've got some options as the temps change. With that sorted out, I give Ken a call so he can sort of judge what time we should land and then we're back to the 'slab killing'.
  
 
 
  Abilene passes quickly and we are headed back kind of the way we came out. As we get into the Fort Worth area, I decide we need to come up with a strategy that will keep us from getting bisected by the crazy drivers. What I do is put on my turn signal when I need to change lanes and wait until Andy makes the change first. Then I can pull over in front of him without some NASCAR wannabe splitting us up. Andy is a quick study and he figures it out without a word passing between us. As we take I20 to I30, then I820 up toward Coppell and Ken's house the strategy works well and we do not repeat the split up that we had coming in. I820 turns into 121/183 then we branch north on 121 which takes us to West Sandy Lake. When I see the sign, I know about where we are, since this road runs real close to Ken's place. With a quick right turn, I begin to recognize some of the sights and soon we pull into Ken's garage without a hitch.  
 
 
 

I tell Ken who is waiting on us -

"Well, I did my best to try to lose him again, but it just didn't work this time."

We all laugh, knowing how easy it is to have a malfunction junction in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. We go in and freshen up a bit, and Ken already has a place picked out for supper - Babe's Chicken Dinner House in Carrollton. They specialize in all kinds of chicken but offer other tasty menu items. Andy and I jump on the fried chicken like any good red-blooded southerners would do, and Ken settles for the smoked chicken. I don't know what a feller would do trying to smoke a chicken, but I leave that up to Ken. When the grub comes, it's plentiful and absolutely awesome. The veggies are just right down my alley and I can't get enough of their delightful biscuits. We polish off the first round of veggies and our server gladly brings us another round. She's a pretty fast talker so I ask her -

"You sure don't sound like you're from around here as fast as you talk."

"I grew up right around this area. I just talk fast when I'm nervous" she tells us.

"Well, I'm sorry I made you nervous, I'll try to do better."

We all laugh and enjoy the meal and time together. We start hatching a plan for coming back and riding the Texas Hill country with Ken next year if things work out. Ken, Andy and I all rode the Triple P together, so it wouldn't be our first rodeo. I grab the bill before Ken can get it and tell him -

"It's still cheaper that a motel room! Besides, I believe I'd ride all the way back to Dallas just to eat here again!"

With the business at hand finished, we head back to Ken's house for a long siesta. He's already got this place he wants to take us for breakfast, so that's sure fine with me. Before long, the skin over my stomach gets tight pulling the skin down over my eyelids and I am 'forced' to head for the sack. I'm out almost before my head hits the pillow ...