CraigRegs
Well-known member
In the movie "Field of Dreams," The Voice says "If you build it, he will come." Well, maybe George Barber didn't build his museum just for me, but I sure wanted to come (chill boys, this post is G-rated). For the last several years I've been reading glowing reports about the Barber Motorsports Museum in Birmingham, AL, seen dozens of photos, and heard tales of it. As a week of vacation approached, my wife said that since we only had family plans for about five days, I should take the rest of the week and weekend to take this trip. So four days to get there, see it and get back. I was stoked.
Day One
Hit the road southeast out of the Des Moines metro at 6am. My mission is to make miles today, so only time for one photo stop along the Great River Road in Missouri, south of Hannibal.
But I wish I'd had a camera ready to capture the instant I came over the crest of a hill to find a dog squatting in the middle of my lane about to let go a load. Didn't quite scare the shit out of him, but it startled me. (Okay, PG-rated post.) 700 miles later, I was south of Shiloh Military Park in Tennessee, camped by Pickwick Dam.
Day Two
After breakfast at Waffle House (it's a crime Iowa doesn't have WH), and a one hour ride south, I'm at a non-descript, cement block building with a most incredible history. You may know the Lynyrd Skynrd lyric: "In Muscle Shoals they got the Swampers. They been known to pick a song or two." This is where they did it. Muscle Shoals Studios. Wilson Pickett, the Rolling Stones, Rod Stewart, Skynyrd, Seger, The Staple Singers and tons more recorded hundreds of hits here. Check their web site for some details about its salvation from the wrecking ball. The Quicktime movie on the home page gives you an idea of the volume of quality work that came from this place. Unfortunately for me (but good for the studio), they were set up for a session and there literally wasn't room between the amps, mic stands and drum kit to give me a tour.
Just a couple more hours southeast I reached the Birmingham suburb of Leeds. Motorcycle Mecca. My Field of Dreams. The Promised Land. A shining museum upon a hill. And I was the only bike that took advantage of the reserved motorcycle parking in front of the building! WTF?
As I pulled open the front door, I couldn't wipe the grin from my face. I actually giggled! There are four stacks of bikes, one on each corner of the enormous elevator, reaching five stories high!
It was amazing. I gladly paid my $15, stashed my gear in the free gear check room, took the elevator (into which you could easily fit six bikes) to the fifth floor and began my tour. Let's look at some exotics: Britten.
MV Agusta
a '92 Honda NR750 not available in the US and one of only 100 built.
But it's not just exotics. There are everyday bikes on display, too. The stacks next to the elevators held a Pacific Coast, Midnight Maxim, Victory Vision, and V45 Sabre. And of course there's lots of old iron including a '31 Indian police bike with heel-operated siren that runs off the back tire
Your humble correspondent mirrored in a Nor-Vin.
It's impossible to report on everything! There's just too much! I mean bikes are literally stacked (tastefully) all over the place!
I bowed to the forefather of the FJR, a '92 FJ1200.
Oh, yeah, they've got this famous replica chopper, too.
But wait...what's that framed between the fork and engine? A (still) lone FJR in the parking lot!
It's amazing how many vehicles (there's a collection of Lotus racing cars from the 30's through today on display as well) have a sign that indicates this particular vehicle is "one of only four known to exist" or "Fewer than 25 were ever made." And yet these rarities are not behind glass, or railings or even velvet ropes. You can walk right up to them and around them and inspect them as closely as you wish. Just don't touch.
The museum is beautiful in its own right, and the track outside the north windows is too. How many tracks boast sculpture throughout the grounds? From the window of the museum you can see Sisyphus pushing his rock up the hill and a couple of lions farther back.
There is more sculpture around the track, but it wasn't open. (It's a separate facility.) You can see photos of some of them on their web site. I'm particularly amused by the giant ants carrying off a wrecked bike, its rider and a Coke bottle. Click around their website until it pops up
After absorbing as much as I could in the five hours I was there, I left to find a motel, as rain was forecast for the evening. After unpacking the bike, I found I'd created on the nightstand a still-life of the various electronic "necessities" for a proper LD ride. And don't forget the digital camera that took the photo.
Day Three
On to Tupelo for a drive-by of Elvis' birthplace and to bag another state, then on to Arkansas for a photo that's becoming a tradition in my family's Christmas newsletter. Every year I try to find a different "Craig" location and include a photo of me and the bike in the newsletter. This year's honoree is an entire county:
So far I've bagged IA, NE, MO, AR, and Craig Co. OK. Likely Colorado next year! If you've got a "Craig" near you, let me know. Also to be found in Craighead county is Black Oak, Arkansas ("Go Jim Dandy, Go!")
That evening found my tent pitched north of Cape Girardeau, MO at Trail of Tears State Park. A whole-wheat thin-crust pizza from the hickory-fired ovens of the local brew pub made a great meal. The next morning, Day 4, with the camera battery's last ounce of energy, I captured this...
...then headed up the Great River Road to St. Louis. From there I followed SR 94, part of the Lewis and Clark trail, along the Missouri River, waving to all the Sunday morning curve carvers. Around McKittrick, a BMW K-series turned onto the highway in front of me and we rode together to Jeff City, where he headed south and I headed north to highball for home.
1950 miles in 4 days. And worth every yard to see the Barber Motorsports Museum. Put it on your bucket list. These pictures can't even begin to do it justice.
Craig
Day One
Hit the road southeast out of the Des Moines metro at 6am. My mission is to make miles today, so only time for one photo stop along the Great River Road in Missouri, south of Hannibal.
But I wish I'd had a camera ready to capture the instant I came over the crest of a hill to find a dog squatting in the middle of my lane about to let go a load. Didn't quite scare the shit out of him, but it startled me. (Okay, PG-rated post.) 700 miles later, I was south of Shiloh Military Park in Tennessee, camped by Pickwick Dam.
Day Two
After breakfast at Waffle House (it's a crime Iowa doesn't have WH), and a one hour ride south, I'm at a non-descript, cement block building with a most incredible history. You may know the Lynyrd Skynrd lyric: "In Muscle Shoals they got the Swampers. They been known to pick a song or two." This is where they did it. Muscle Shoals Studios. Wilson Pickett, the Rolling Stones, Rod Stewart, Skynyrd, Seger, The Staple Singers and tons more recorded hundreds of hits here. Check their web site for some details about its salvation from the wrecking ball. The Quicktime movie on the home page gives you an idea of the volume of quality work that came from this place. Unfortunately for me (but good for the studio), they were set up for a session and there literally wasn't room between the amps, mic stands and drum kit to give me a tour.
Just a couple more hours southeast I reached the Birmingham suburb of Leeds. Motorcycle Mecca. My Field of Dreams. The Promised Land. A shining museum upon a hill. And I was the only bike that took advantage of the reserved motorcycle parking in front of the building! WTF?
As I pulled open the front door, I couldn't wipe the grin from my face. I actually giggled! There are four stacks of bikes, one on each corner of the enormous elevator, reaching five stories high!
It was amazing. I gladly paid my $15, stashed my gear in the free gear check room, took the elevator (into which you could easily fit six bikes) to the fifth floor and began my tour. Let's look at some exotics: Britten.
MV Agusta
a '92 Honda NR750 not available in the US and one of only 100 built.
But it's not just exotics. There are everyday bikes on display, too. The stacks next to the elevators held a Pacific Coast, Midnight Maxim, Victory Vision, and V45 Sabre. And of course there's lots of old iron including a '31 Indian police bike with heel-operated siren that runs off the back tire
Your humble correspondent mirrored in a Nor-Vin.
It's impossible to report on everything! There's just too much! I mean bikes are literally stacked (tastefully) all over the place!
I bowed to the forefather of the FJR, a '92 FJ1200.
Oh, yeah, they've got this famous replica chopper, too.
But wait...what's that framed between the fork and engine? A (still) lone FJR in the parking lot!
It's amazing how many vehicles (there's a collection of Lotus racing cars from the 30's through today on display as well) have a sign that indicates this particular vehicle is "one of only four known to exist" or "Fewer than 25 were ever made." And yet these rarities are not behind glass, or railings or even velvet ropes. You can walk right up to them and around them and inspect them as closely as you wish. Just don't touch.
The museum is beautiful in its own right, and the track outside the north windows is too. How many tracks boast sculpture throughout the grounds? From the window of the museum you can see Sisyphus pushing his rock up the hill and a couple of lions farther back.
There is more sculpture around the track, but it wasn't open. (It's a separate facility.) You can see photos of some of them on their web site. I'm particularly amused by the giant ants carrying off a wrecked bike, its rider and a Coke bottle. Click around their website until it pops up
After absorbing as much as I could in the five hours I was there, I left to find a motel, as rain was forecast for the evening. After unpacking the bike, I found I'd created on the nightstand a still-life of the various electronic "necessities" for a proper LD ride. And don't forget the digital camera that took the photo.
Day Three
On to Tupelo for a drive-by of Elvis' birthplace and to bag another state, then on to Arkansas for a photo that's becoming a tradition in my family's Christmas newsletter. Every year I try to find a different "Craig" location and include a photo of me and the bike in the newsletter. This year's honoree is an entire county:
So far I've bagged IA, NE, MO, AR, and Craig Co. OK. Likely Colorado next year! If you've got a "Craig" near you, let me know. Also to be found in Craighead county is Black Oak, Arkansas ("Go Jim Dandy, Go!")
That evening found my tent pitched north of Cape Girardeau, MO at Trail of Tears State Park. A whole-wheat thin-crust pizza from the hickory-fired ovens of the local brew pub made a great meal. The next morning, Day 4, with the camera battery's last ounce of energy, I captured this...
...then headed up the Great River Road to St. Louis. From there I followed SR 94, part of the Lewis and Clark trail, along the Missouri River, waving to all the Sunday morning curve carvers. Around McKittrick, a BMW K-series turned onto the highway in front of me and we rode together to Jeff City, where he headed south and I headed north to highball for home.
1950 miles in 4 days. And worth every yard to see the Barber Motorsports Museum. Put it on your bucket list. These pictures can't even begin to do it justice.
Craig
