hppants
Well-known member
When I was a kid, my mama would always tell me that “good things come to those that wait”. Sometimes I curse the poor soul that invented that saying. Surely, he/she must have lived a miserable life, sitting around in total boredom waiting. All my life, Pants has had ants in his pants. My absolute worst fear is that one day I’m going to wake up with nothing to do. Though I try to suppress that, it doesn’t come naturally and I suppose in reality, I will eventually rest when I get to the other side of the grass.
I’ve found some relief in using the wait to generate excitement. If I know that something good is coming in the future, even though I have to wait for it, I try to channel my restlessness into some kind of positive energy. I think the key for success here is timing. If the carrot is dangling too far into the future, the excitement wanes and I get discouraged. That length of time seems to vary, depending on the size of the carrot. In riding terms, I can excitedly anticipate a cross country tour for a few months. But if a simple day trip is more than a few days out, I get antsy.
Such was the case this holiday season. The University closes for 2 weeks every Christmas and New Year. Knowing my tendencies, I always schedule a home maintenance or improvement project during that time as something to keep me busy. This year, I decided to paint 4 rooms in the house. The rooms I chose were very difficult, with 12 foot ceilings and elaborate molding and trim work. I figured it would take me about 4 days, and even considering the holiday family gatherings, I would have several days in the second week to play.
Wrong.
I worked like a beat dog for 9 days straight. Everything went slow as molasses. The house was completely turned upside down and around day 5 I got real discouraged. With no end in site, and decent weather outside, I was reeling for a bike ride. By day 7, I could start to see the end. I figured it would take me 2 more days, and that would leave me with only Friday to take a ride, as we have family obligations for the New Year. As I put the final coat on the trim in the last rooms, I day dreamed about my upcoming adventure, and it motivated me to finish.
On the evening of day 9, I wrapped it up about 8 pm. I felt like I crossed the finish line of a half marathon. I was so excited, but absolutely exhausted. I woke up on the middle of the night on the Lazy Boy recliner. Apparently, I feel asleep on the chair and my wife just covered me up and left me alone.
The next day, I learned that my mama was right – good things do come to those that wait. I hope you enjoy the pics.
Ride route:
https://goo.gl/maps/kKt1So7CXQy
I woke up excited and enthusiastic. The weather was not ideal – cloudy, damp, and in the mid 40s. It was supposed to warm only into the mid 50s but I could care less. I’d ride today in an all out frog strangling rain storm if I had to. This caged dog was getting out, and that was non-negotiable. I packed the top box with layers and rain gear. I packed water and snacks. I packed my walking shoes, my camera, and binoculars. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to see, but I wanted to be ready for anything. I stood next to my bike and starting putting my gear on. The engine was warming up, purring smoothly with puffs of steam coming out of both pipes. I stuck my ear buds in and started the MP3 player. The first song was Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues:
“I hear the train a coming
It’s rolling ‘round the bend
And I ain’t see the sunshine
Since I don’t know when
I’m stuck in Folsom Prison
And time keeps dragging on
But that train keeps a rolling
On down to San Antone”
What a wonderful analogy for my situation! For the past week and a half, I’ve been stuck in my own prison with no sunshine. Time has been dragging on. But it’s time for this train to get rollin. And while San Antonio is a bit far, east TEXAS sounds like a great idea.
I’m going west.
I rode some back roads out my town and south of the Interstate. The crawfish farmers are starting to harvest, right on time just after Christmas. Over the next few months, these critters will be served all around here in various ways. My wife likes it, but I think they are kind of chewy.
There are much more scenic ways to get to Texas, but the days are short now and I’m itching to make some time, so in Jennings, I jump on the slab and blast it about 40 miles to Lake Charles. It was actually kind of nice playing 85 mph leap frog with a white Mercedes 350 occupied by a couple of nice looking ladies.
I cross the Calcasieu River and get off the slab, heading north and toward the pine trees. Now mid morning and almost 100 miles in, I stopped in DeQuincy, Louisiana for a bio break and a snack. I never gave this town much thought before, but figured I would check the phone and see if there was anything interesting here.
The Railroad Museum reminded me of Johnny Cash and since it was only 0.4 miles away, I figured what the hell.
They turned the old train depot into a nice museum.
I walked in and was greeting by a very friendly curator. She informed me that the self guided facility was free to the public and gave me a very informative history briefing on the place.
The size of these pieces is mind boggling. This coupler can pull some serious load.
The curator explained to me the significance of the railroad. It basically put Dequincy and thousands of other towns in this country on the map. The key to commerce was the sharing of all resources, human and non-human. And the train was the tool that did it.
I walked into a room and bid this gentleman a good morning. I thought him somewhat rude for not returning the greeting, but then realized that he was made of wax!!
The curator handed me the pad lock keys for the outdoor displays and I walked over to the shelter. This is a locomotive that was used for the local logging industry back in the day. Again, the size of this machinery was astounding.
The arrangements in the caboose were modest to say the least.
There was also a passenger coach car on display.
It’s hard to imagine they can stop the car with this hand brake thanks to the wonders of leverage.
The inside of the car was pretty spacious compared say to an airplane.
I sat in a window seat and tried to imagine an adventure on the rail.
The chair was quite comfortable. They even provide these neat adjustable foot rest.
I had a nice time at the museum and would recommend it if you are in the area and into that sort of thing.
Back on the road, I pointed the horse northwest and into the trees. The road is clean and very desolate. I go 3-8 miles without even crossing another vehicle. The birds are flying all over above me and I’m enjoying the smell of the pine forest.
I cross the Sabine River, which serves as the border between Louisiana and Texas.
Welcome to Texas, Pants.
As I cross the border, two things are brought to my attention. First, there is very little trash on the side of the road – the entire area is just cleaner. And second, these people know how to set a speed limit.
I turn north on Hwy 87 in Newton, and then take Hwy 1414 to Burkeville. I love this road and have ridden it many times. It’s very curvy and grippy with little hills mixed in, and I am really enjoying the ride.
I’m not pushing myself in the slightest. Just taking it nice and smooth through the curves and enjoying the bike. The weather is not too great, but I’ve got my grip heaters on low, and my windshield is raised slightly to redirect the chilly air over my head. I’m very comfortable and the miles are just melting away.
I stopped at this cemetery to drink some water. I really picked this place because of the roadside space, but I did peek inside the fence and didn’t see any really old graves. This is not really my thing, so I moved on.
Texas does a great job of promoting its road side history. It seems that on every road, there is some kind of historical marker. I picked this random one to stop and read. It described the land survey that was done in this area.
In Burkeville, I turn north on Hwy 87, which is a fantastic road. The pavement is absolutely flawless and the curves are very predictable. Every time I’m in this region I will ride hwy 87.
With my fuel tank just tripped to reserve, I stopped in the little community of Yellow Pine to fill up my bike. I suppose there is no point in naming this store – it’s the only one in town.
While I’m here, I might as well fill up my belly too. Hmmmm – this sounds “interesting”.
“Be with ya in just a sec, Hon…”, says that lady behind the counter with a long Texas drawl.
The food looks pretty good.
I picked a brisket sandwich and an armadillo egg, which is some kind of pepper stuffed with cheese and deep fried. It was OK – not anything I would go out of my way for, but good enough. I sat on a stoop outside the store and enjoyed my simple meal.
While eating, a pirate on a harley stopped at the same store and approached me. He just couldn’t believe that I rode 200 miles that morning. He said he had been riding Harley’s his whole life and never went more than 100 miles in a day. I showed him my bike and we talked a while. He was a nice man and we had good conversation.
After lunch, I rode north to Milam, and then turned East back toward Louisiana. I took the famous Pendleton Bridge across Toledo Bend and stopped on the Louisiana side of the lake to sniff around.
I read about the history of this world famous trophy bass lake.
I walked down to the shore and onto this wharf to check out the lake.
It is pretty peaceful on the leeward side of the lake today. If you look close, you can see the Pendleton Bridge I used to cross the water.
This very well might be my 2017 FJR calendar submittal shot.
I took Hwy 191 south on the Louisiana side of the lake, and then turned East on Hwy 474 and Hwy 118. These are all good roads that take the rider through sections of the Kistachie National Forest. Near the town of Florein, I stopped at this interesting looking building on the side of the road.
It looks like an old abandoned store. Good thing I don’t need any gas, because I’m not getting any here.
As I was walking around the building, a small car pulled up. I pleasant looking lady got out and the first thing I noticed was that thankfully, she wasn’t carrying a weapon.
(Pants) “Good Afternoon – I suppose I’m trespassing.”
(Lady) “Not really, can I help you?”
(Pants) “I was just noticing how interesting this place is.”
(Lady) “Well, it’s been in my family for over 80 years. Do you want to see the inside?”
(Pants) “Sure!”
Ms. Jan opened the back door for me and it was like I stepped back in time.
She’s done a wonderful job of restoring the old store. Some of the pieces were always here from the early days and others she has collected along the way.
Who remembers buying sliced ham or cheese on a scale like this? It still works perfectly.
Jan says that her grandfather bought this TV as a marketing tool for the store. He would draw customers to the place to watch the magic box.
She says that a lot of people think she should make it a bed and breakfast, but for now she enjoys just using the place for family gatherings. That was cool and unexpected twist to my day. This is the kind of stuff I really hope for on a ride - totally unplanned. You just have to get out there and hope the adventure finds you.
I saddled up and continued East through the trees. This entire region was once known as the Peason Ridge.
During WWII, this land was purchased by the military to use as a firing range. Fort Polk is near by and still performs maneuvers in this area now.
Pretty desolate place.
There was a roadside display that illustrated the settlement history for this old sawmill town.
I thought this was catchy.
A little further down the road, this is the old school house in the community of Kistachie, since shut down. I thought the graffiti was pretty good art.
Now later in the afternoon and I’m still over 100 miles from home. So I buckled down and started riding in big chunks. I rode about 50 miles out of the woods toward Forest Hill. In route there, I had a bad scare. A car appeared out of nowhere from behind some trees on a perpendicular street and ran halfway through a stop sign into my lane. Running about 60 mph, I reacted perfectly and swerved toward the center to avoid the crash. As I rode by, I glanced at the young driver and could clearly see the whites of her eyes in total shock of what she did, and more importantly, what she almost did.
It shook me up a bit, so I stopped for a shot of water and to calm down. There was absolutely no warning – in a 1/4th of a second, it was over. Reminds me to be diligent, but in the end, we just don’t know.
I rode the last 70-ish miles straight home, putting a perfect ending to about a 420 mile day. It sure didn’t feel like that much riding. The FJR is just perfect for me.
Earlier in the day, I called my wife to tell her I was fine and to expect me around 5:30. She informed that she and my daughter were going out to play and I would be home by myself this evening. My dad dropped off a few freshly cleaned crappie fillets and I dropped them in some oil for my dinner with some fries and a cold beer.
Those went down like aspirin tablets while I watched some football on TV. It was a nice day.
So I had to wait for my last adventure of the 2016 year, but it was surely worth it.
Stay thirsty, my friends…..
I’ve found some relief in using the wait to generate excitement. If I know that something good is coming in the future, even though I have to wait for it, I try to channel my restlessness into some kind of positive energy. I think the key for success here is timing. If the carrot is dangling too far into the future, the excitement wanes and I get discouraged. That length of time seems to vary, depending on the size of the carrot. In riding terms, I can excitedly anticipate a cross country tour for a few months. But if a simple day trip is more than a few days out, I get antsy.
Such was the case this holiday season. The University closes for 2 weeks every Christmas and New Year. Knowing my tendencies, I always schedule a home maintenance or improvement project during that time as something to keep me busy. This year, I decided to paint 4 rooms in the house. The rooms I chose were very difficult, with 12 foot ceilings and elaborate molding and trim work. I figured it would take me about 4 days, and even considering the holiday family gatherings, I would have several days in the second week to play.
Wrong.
I worked like a beat dog for 9 days straight. Everything went slow as molasses. The house was completely turned upside down and around day 5 I got real discouraged. With no end in site, and decent weather outside, I was reeling for a bike ride. By day 7, I could start to see the end. I figured it would take me 2 more days, and that would leave me with only Friday to take a ride, as we have family obligations for the New Year. As I put the final coat on the trim in the last rooms, I day dreamed about my upcoming adventure, and it motivated me to finish.
On the evening of day 9, I wrapped it up about 8 pm. I felt like I crossed the finish line of a half marathon. I was so excited, but absolutely exhausted. I woke up on the middle of the night on the Lazy Boy recliner. Apparently, I feel asleep on the chair and my wife just covered me up and left me alone.
The next day, I learned that my mama was right – good things do come to those that wait. I hope you enjoy the pics.
Ride route:
https://goo.gl/maps/kKt1So7CXQy
I woke up excited and enthusiastic. The weather was not ideal – cloudy, damp, and in the mid 40s. It was supposed to warm only into the mid 50s but I could care less. I’d ride today in an all out frog strangling rain storm if I had to. This caged dog was getting out, and that was non-negotiable. I packed the top box with layers and rain gear. I packed water and snacks. I packed my walking shoes, my camera, and binoculars. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to see, but I wanted to be ready for anything. I stood next to my bike and starting putting my gear on. The engine was warming up, purring smoothly with puffs of steam coming out of both pipes. I stuck my ear buds in and started the MP3 player. The first song was Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues:
“I hear the train a coming
It’s rolling ‘round the bend
And I ain’t see the sunshine
Since I don’t know when
I’m stuck in Folsom Prison
And time keeps dragging on
But that train keeps a rolling
On down to San Antone”
What a wonderful analogy for my situation! For the past week and a half, I’ve been stuck in my own prison with no sunshine. Time has been dragging on. But it’s time for this train to get rollin. And while San Antonio is a bit far, east TEXAS sounds like a great idea.
I’m going west.
I rode some back roads out my town and south of the Interstate. The crawfish farmers are starting to harvest, right on time just after Christmas. Over the next few months, these critters will be served all around here in various ways. My wife likes it, but I think they are kind of chewy.
There are much more scenic ways to get to Texas, but the days are short now and I’m itching to make some time, so in Jennings, I jump on the slab and blast it about 40 miles to Lake Charles. It was actually kind of nice playing 85 mph leap frog with a white Mercedes 350 occupied by a couple of nice looking ladies.
I cross the Calcasieu River and get off the slab, heading north and toward the pine trees. Now mid morning and almost 100 miles in, I stopped in DeQuincy, Louisiana for a bio break and a snack. I never gave this town much thought before, but figured I would check the phone and see if there was anything interesting here.
The Railroad Museum reminded me of Johnny Cash and since it was only 0.4 miles away, I figured what the hell.
They turned the old train depot into a nice museum.
I walked in and was greeting by a very friendly curator. She informed me that the self guided facility was free to the public and gave me a very informative history briefing on the place.
The size of these pieces is mind boggling. This coupler can pull some serious load.
The curator explained to me the significance of the railroad. It basically put Dequincy and thousands of other towns in this country on the map. The key to commerce was the sharing of all resources, human and non-human. And the train was the tool that did it.
I walked into a room and bid this gentleman a good morning. I thought him somewhat rude for not returning the greeting, but then realized that he was made of wax!!
The curator handed me the pad lock keys for the outdoor displays and I walked over to the shelter. This is a locomotive that was used for the local logging industry back in the day. Again, the size of this machinery was astounding.
The arrangements in the caboose were modest to say the least.
There was also a passenger coach car on display.
It’s hard to imagine they can stop the car with this hand brake thanks to the wonders of leverage.
The inside of the car was pretty spacious compared say to an airplane.
I sat in a window seat and tried to imagine an adventure on the rail.
The chair was quite comfortable. They even provide these neat adjustable foot rest.
I had a nice time at the museum and would recommend it if you are in the area and into that sort of thing.
Back on the road, I pointed the horse northwest and into the trees. The road is clean and very desolate. I go 3-8 miles without even crossing another vehicle. The birds are flying all over above me and I’m enjoying the smell of the pine forest.
I cross the Sabine River, which serves as the border between Louisiana and Texas.
Welcome to Texas, Pants.
As I cross the border, two things are brought to my attention. First, there is very little trash on the side of the road – the entire area is just cleaner. And second, these people know how to set a speed limit.
I turn north on Hwy 87 in Newton, and then take Hwy 1414 to Burkeville. I love this road and have ridden it many times. It’s very curvy and grippy with little hills mixed in, and I am really enjoying the ride.
I’m not pushing myself in the slightest. Just taking it nice and smooth through the curves and enjoying the bike. The weather is not too great, but I’ve got my grip heaters on low, and my windshield is raised slightly to redirect the chilly air over my head. I’m very comfortable and the miles are just melting away.
I stopped at this cemetery to drink some water. I really picked this place because of the roadside space, but I did peek inside the fence and didn’t see any really old graves. This is not really my thing, so I moved on.
Texas does a great job of promoting its road side history. It seems that on every road, there is some kind of historical marker. I picked this random one to stop and read. It described the land survey that was done in this area.
In Burkeville, I turn north on Hwy 87, which is a fantastic road. The pavement is absolutely flawless and the curves are very predictable. Every time I’m in this region I will ride hwy 87.
With my fuel tank just tripped to reserve, I stopped in the little community of Yellow Pine to fill up my bike. I suppose there is no point in naming this store – it’s the only one in town.
While I’m here, I might as well fill up my belly too. Hmmmm – this sounds “interesting”.
“Be with ya in just a sec, Hon…”, says that lady behind the counter with a long Texas drawl.
The food looks pretty good.
I picked a brisket sandwich and an armadillo egg, which is some kind of pepper stuffed with cheese and deep fried. It was OK – not anything I would go out of my way for, but good enough. I sat on a stoop outside the store and enjoyed my simple meal.
While eating, a pirate on a harley stopped at the same store and approached me. He just couldn’t believe that I rode 200 miles that morning. He said he had been riding Harley’s his whole life and never went more than 100 miles in a day. I showed him my bike and we talked a while. He was a nice man and we had good conversation.
After lunch, I rode north to Milam, and then turned East back toward Louisiana. I took the famous Pendleton Bridge across Toledo Bend and stopped on the Louisiana side of the lake to sniff around.
I read about the history of this world famous trophy bass lake.
I walked down to the shore and onto this wharf to check out the lake.
It is pretty peaceful on the leeward side of the lake today. If you look close, you can see the Pendleton Bridge I used to cross the water.
This very well might be my 2017 FJR calendar submittal shot.
I took Hwy 191 south on the Louisiana side of the lake, and then turned East on Hwy 474 and Hwy 118. These are all good roads that take the rider through sections of the Kistachie National Forest. Near the town of Florein, I stopped at this interesting looking building on the side of the road.
It looks like an old abandoned store. Good thing I don’t need any gas, because I’m not getting any here.
As I was walking around the building, a small car pulled up. I pleasant looking lady got out and the first thing I noticed was that thankfully, she wasn’t carrying a weapon.
(Pants) “Good Afternoon – I suppose I’m trespassing.”
(Lady) “Not really, can I help you?”
(Pants) “I was just noticing how interesting this place is.”
(Lady) “Well, it’s been in my family for over 80 years. Do you want to see the inside?”
(Pants) “Sure!”
Ms. Jan opened the back door for me and it was like I stepped back in time.
She’s done a wonderful job of restoring the old store. Some of the pieces were always here from the early days and others she has collected along the way.
Who remembers buying sliced ham or cheese on a scale like this? It still works perfectly.
Jan says that her grandfather bought this TV as a marketing tool for the store. He would draw customers to the place to watch the magic box.
She says that a lot of people think she should make it a bed and breakfast, but for now she enjoys just using the place for family gatherings. That was cool and unexpected twist to my day. This is the kind of stuff I really hope for on a ride - totally unplanned. You just have to get out there and hope the adventure finds you.
I saddled up and continued East through the trees. This entire region was once known as the Peason Ridge.
During WWII, this land was purchased by the military to use as a firing range. Fort Polk is near by and still performs maneuvers in this area now.
Pretty desolate place.
There was a roadside display that illustrated the settlement history for this old sawmill town.
I thought this was catchy.
A little further down the road, this is the old school house in the community of Kistachie, since shut down. I thought the graffiti was pretty good art.
Now later in the afternoon and I’m still over 100 miles from home. So I buckled down and started riding in big chunks. I rode about 50 miles out of the woods toward Forest Hill. In route there, I had a bad scare. A car appeared out of nowhere from behind some trees on a perpendicular street and ran halfway through a stop sign into my lane. Running about 60 mph, I reacted perfectly and swerved toward the center to avoid the crash. As I rode by, I glanced at the young driver and could clearly see the whites of her eyes in total shock of what she did, and more importantly, what she almost did.
It shook me up a bit, so I stopped for a shot of water and to calm down. There was absolutely no warning – in a 1/4th of a second, it was over. Reminds me to be diligent, but in the end, we just don’t know.
I rode the last 70-ish miles straight home, putting a perfect ending to about a 420 mile day. It sure didn’t feel like that much riding. The FJR is just perfect for me.
Earlier in the day, I called my wife to tell her I was fine and to expect me around 5:30. She informed that she and my daughter were going out to play and I would be home by myself this evening. My dad dropped off a few freshly cleaned crappie fillets and I dropped them in some oil for my dinner with some fries and a cold beer.
Those went down like aspirin tablets while I watched some football on TV. It was a nice day.
So I had to wait for my last adventure of the 2016 year, but it was surely worth it.
Stay thirsty, my friends…..
