Spring Civil War Ride

I reluctantly moved to Virginia in January of 2006. I was apprehensive because I had spent 23 years in Texas and considered myself a Texan. What I didn’t appreciate at the time was how much Virginia has to offer in the way of history and a Texas-like sense of state pride. I now have easy access to places like Washington, DC, Philadelphia, Yorktown and other places that played a significant role in forming our nation. But, my favorite thing about living in Northern Virginia is the easy access to an abundance of Civil War sites and history. There are literally hundreds of sites within 100 miles of my home including no fewer than eight major battlefields. I have the luxury of jumping on the motorcycle and within minutes I am able to take myself back in time to a place where survival was a daily goal for some and unattainable for many others.

A shot from the Manassas NBP this fall (2011).

The Civil War; also known as The War Between the States, Mr. Lincoln’s War, or if you’re from the south like me, The War Against Northern Aggression, represents one of the darkest four years in our young country’s history. Slavery was a major factor in the war, but as in most wars, the cause is not simply one thing, but a combination of circumstances, and lest we forget the most common cause, power and money. The Northern states possessed the majority of the power in Congress and the nation’s wealth. The Southern states wanted more power in Congress and most of their wealth was wrapped up in cotton. Slaves made the cotton industry king in the South and a threat against slavery was viewed as a direct threat against the wealth of the South.

The Electra Glide parked along the split-rail fence at Manassas NBP.

I live only a few miles from Manassas National Battlefield Park (NBP) and drive through the battlefield daily on my way to and from work. Manassas NBP was the site of two major battles of significance during the war. The first battle (known as 1st Manassas), in July 1861, was the first major land battle of the war. The South won 1st Manassas and that battle introduced the North to the famous Rebel Yell as well as earned Thomas J. Jackson (a Colonel at the time) the nickname of “Stonewall” Jackson.

Stonewall Jackson Monument at Manassas NBP (I took this one earlier in the year when the battlefield was covered in snow)

In August 1862, Confederate General Robert E. Lee led his Army of Northern Virginia to a decisive win in the 2nd Battle of Manassas. As a result of the loss at 2nd Manassas, President Abraham Lincoln relieved Major General John Pope of command and merged Pope’s army in with Major General George B. McClellan’s Army of the Potomac. Unfortunately for Lincoln, the Army of the Potomac had to endure multiple changes in leadership as he searched for a general who could, or would, “take the war to the rebels”. But as of late-summer 1862, McClellan was Lincoln’s guy.

The Electra Glide doing what it does best. Taking me to visit great places.

Lee decided to take his army north into Maryland. His goal was to take the war to northern soil and allow Virginia time to heal from the war. In addition, he hoped a victory on northern soil would impact the elections coming up in November of 1862. Lee’s army marched north from Manassas, crossed the Potomac River and began what became known as the Maryland Campaign. The Maryland Campaign ended in the bloodiest, single-day battle in the history of the United States along Antietam Creek.

I’ve visited many of the battlefields in the area and two of my favorite places are Antietam National Battlefield near Sharpsburg, Maryland and Gettysburg National Military Park in Pennsylvania. Between my desire to visit these two places again and the need to get out on a motorcycle ride after a long, cold winter, I decided to go for a ride. In a rare moment of weakness, Renee agreed to come along providing it wasn’t raining and wasn’t too cold. I plotted out a ride that would not only take me to the battlefields, but also ensured we got to ride some terrific roads on the way there.

After filling the gas tank at the local 7-Eleven, we headed west on Waterfall Road across Bull Run Mountain and then through the Virginia Piedmont on our way to Antietam National Battlefield. The roads on our way to Antietam are a motorcyclist’s dream. Each rises, falls and winds their way across the hills and dales that make up this part of Virginia and Maryland. The ride into the Antietam battlefield meanders along the Maryland side of the Potomac River on Harpers Ferry Road providing great views of the river as well as the countryside walked by the armies of the North and South.

A shot of Waterfall/Hopewell Road from a ride last fall.

A shot of Halfway Road that runs between The Plains and Middleburg, Virginia

This is Foxcroft Road north of Middleburg alongside Goose Creek

Harpers Ferry Road alongside the Potomac River just west of Sandy Hook, Maryland

More of Harpers Ferry Road as it winds its way toward Sharpsburg

We arrived at Antietam NB and spent some time riding along the designated route and stopping to view the sights and read the history associated with this special place.

On September 16, 1862, Gen. McClellan and Gen. Lee came face-to-face near Sharpsburg, MD. Lee was defending a line to the west of Antietam Creek with his back to the Potomac River. Union troops began their attack on Lee's left flank the next morning. The two armies hammered each other back and forth all day.

The Dunker Church at Sharpsburg. Named the Dunker Church because the congregation believed in full immersion baptism. In 1862 it was the site of the initial engagements of the Battle of Antietam.

The Miller farm and the cornfield where heavy fighting occurred 0n the first day of the battle.

The monument in honor of the Maryland soldiers who fought and died at Antietam. It sits across the street from the Dunker Church.

Union assaults against the Sunken Road came very close to breaking the Confederate center, but the Union army wasn't able to take full advantage of their success here.

What started out as a defensive advantage almost turned into a disaster for the Confederate troops as they found themselves sitting ducks in the Sunken Road, also known as "Bloody Lane".

Another view of the Sunken Road from the observation tower (lower left of picture) and the field Union troops crossed while assaulting it.

McClellan had Maj. Gen. Ambrose Burnside working Lee's right flank. To gain access, Burnside's men needed to cross Antietam Creek. The stone bridge over the creek was well protected by Confederate troops from Georgia who were perched atop a ridge over the creek. Burnside took most of the day to make his assault, but eventually crossed over the bridge and began to roll up the Confederate right. But, before he could complete his rout of the Confederates, Gen. A.P. Hill's troops arrived from Harpers Ferry and drove Burnside and his men back across the creek. This counterattack saved Lee's army from a crushing defeat and left the outcome of the battle basically a draw.

The view of Burnside's Bridge over the Antietam Creek from where the Confederates held the high ground.

Antietam was the bloodiest single-day battle in American history with more than 26,000 casualties.

Campsite replica from Antietam National Battlefield

After our visit to the Antietam battlefield, we continued north on the back roads of Maryland. One stop included in our route was the Washington Monument. Now I know what your thinking, "Good grief, Chuck. The Washington Monument isn't in the backwoods of Maryland." Well, that's where your wrong.

The citizens of Boonsboro, Maryland, in Washington County, wanted to erect a monument to our first president. So, they built a stone tower that is 34 feet tall and was dedicated in 1827, 58 years before the more famous monument in Washington, DC was completed. It sits 1540 feet above sea level near the top of Monument Knob on South Mountain and offers a great view of the valley below.

The original Washington Monument in Washington County, Maryland.

The view from Monument Knob in Washington Monument State Park.

From the Washington Monument, we wound our way through some Maryland back roads and into Pennsylvania for our overnight visit in Gettysburg at the historic Gettysburg Hotel.

The Historic Gettysburg Hotel where Abraham Lincoln once stayed. It's now run by Best Western, but our room was great. We'll be back for another visit soon.

We roamed the streets of downtown Gettysburg the rest of the evening finally settling in at the Garryowen Irish Pub on Chambersburg Street. We had a great time there mostly listening to the conversations of the other patrons (who, according to the bartender, had been there most of the day). They were having a great time and their party atmosphere was contagious for Renee and me. We spent a couple of hours there enjoying the beer, wine, food and conversation. Or, as they say at the Garryowen, "Ceol, cainte agus craic" - Music, Talk and Fun!

Renee hanging out with Abraham Lincoln and Perry Como on the square in Gettysburg. I'm not sure of the Perry Como connection, but Lincoln is pointing his hat at the window of the house where he wrote the Gettysburg Address.

The old train depot in Gettysburg.

The next morning we braved the cold and climbed on the bike for our visit to the Gettysburg National Military Park (NMP). The pictures tell the story for the battle at Gettysburg better than I can, here's a quick history.

The battle was fought over the first 3 days in July 1863. The fighting began on the north and west side of town, continued through the town itself, and eventually to the south where the Union army held the high ground.

By this time, Lincoln had appointed Maj. Gen. George Meade as the commander of the Army of the Potomac. Lee had lost his right hand man in Gen. Stonewall Jackson earlier in the year (May), but still had many of the same generals with him. Unfortunately for Lee, none were as savvy as Jackson and several opportunities to take control early in the battle were lost. In addition, Lee's eyes and ears of his army, his cavalry led by J.E.B Stuart, were missing from the battle until the last day. All of this led to a defeat for the Confederate army.

Renee with Lincoln again outside the Visitor's Center at Gettysburg NMP.

The view northwest of Gettysburg where some of the early engagements began on the first day of the battle. Lee had actually instructed his leaders not to engage the enemy, but war rarely goes as planned.

The view looking back into town toward Seminary Ridge.

Cannon lining Confederate Drive in Gettysburg NMP

The view looking across the field where Gen. Pickett led his charge. The Union army were located along the tree lines you see in the far background. Pickett's men had to cross this much unprotected ground to reach the Union lines. It was a blood bath.

The view from Little Round Top where, again, the Union troops held the high ground and the Confederate troops had to clamber over boulders to reach the enemy lines.

The view back toward town from Little Round Top.

One of the monuments in the Wheatfield where several rounds of battles were fought.

The view from the Union lines of the field Pickett's men crossed as they made their charge.

The copse of trees that represented the Union lines as Pickett's men made their charge. The Union lines were near here and this area represents the "High Water Mark" of the Confederate lines - meaning the farthest line of advance in the battle.

More of the area around the High Water Mark.

The angle where some of the fiercest hand-to-hand combat occurred during Pickett's charge.

Confederate Gen. Lewis Armistead's brigade got farther in the charge than any other. He was shot three times just after crossing the wall near the Angle. Armistead was great friends with Union Gen. Winfield Hancock who was leading the Union troops in the area where Pickett's men charged. He was rendered aid by Union Capt. Henry Bingham, who informed Armistead that Hancock had been commanding this part of the defensive line, but that Hancock, too, had just been wounded. Armistead's wounds were not believed to be mortal, but he died two days later.

Hancock survived the battle and the Civil War and went on to be the Democratic nominee for President in 1880.

The monument to Gen. Lewis Armistead, marking where he was wounded.

The Battle of Gettysburg resulted in 51,112 casualties (23,049 for the Union and 28,063 for the Confederate armies).

Pickett's charge alone resulted in total losses of approximately 6,555. Estimates say at least 1,123 Confederates were killed on the battlefield and 4,019 were wounded and/or captured.

Time to Ride Again

Well, it has been a long, cold winter here in Northern Virginia and other than a couple of short, cold rides, the bike has been sitting in the garage...waiting...just waiting. The wait is almost over. With a little luck, Renee and I will be touring a few Civil War battlefields in 11 days. I will be writing an article on the ride and submitting it to a magazine. Hopefully, it will get published, but you all will get a sneak preview of it on the blog whether they decide to publish it or not.

I love to ride. It's difficult to explain how much I enjoy hitting the road. It doesn't matter if I have a destination in mind or if I'm just riding and exploring. A big part of it is seeing new things, meeting different people. You know, getting off the beaten path.

There's a website that lists strange roadside attractions (http://www.roadsideamerica.com/). Things like Muffler Men (tall statues used to advertise a wide variety of businesses), Goats on the Roof (a place in Georgia that has, you guessed it, goats that live on the roof of the building), just crazy stuff like that. It's become one of my "go to" sites when I am planning a trip these days. You should check it out for your next road trip and see if there is something so weird along the way that you just can't resist stopping to see it.

The Civil War ride with Renee is set and there's so much history to see that I haven't even looked at the weird roadside attractions yet. But, I'm also planning a ride to Texas to visit Jeremy in April and I'm loading that ride with as many weird and scenic stops as I can fit in. Plus, I have a list of all the stops from the Food Network show, Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, so I'm working a few of those places into the mix too.

I rode some of the Blue Ridge Parkway back in 2001 when I bought my first Harley. I'm going to ride the rest of it on my way to Texas. I also rode part of the Natchez Trace back in 2001 and I'm going to finish it on my way back. Those roads, tied in with a few wacky attractions and a diner, drive-in or dive and I am in hog heaven.

Bottom line, days on the road are my form of spiritual rejuvenation. It gives me the chance to get back in touch with how I really am. I should have been around back in the 1800s to wander the country and live like the saddle tramp that I am. But, I've been extremely blessed in my life, so I won't complain. I'll just hop on the bike and take advantage of the time I get to do what I love.

See ya on the road!

Keep Right

If you’ve read any of my ride stories you already know I don’t like riding on interstates. But, sometimes you can’t avoid it. As far as I’m concerned, there are only 3 reasons to ride the interstate:

1. Speed – You have a deadline or need to make up time to get where you’re going

2. Rain – You have a little more room to maneuver and visibility (seeing and being seen) is usually better

3. Night – For the same basic reasons as #2

If none of the above is applicable, you’ll usually find me cruising on a two-lane road enjoying the scenery and, hopefully, stumbling upon the unexpected. So, it goes without saying that my frustration level shoots through the roof when riding on the interstate and dealing with drivers who don’t understand the concept of “Keep Right Except To Pass” or “Slower Traffic Keep Right”. These drivers are directly interfering with achieving Number 1 above.

I know I’m not the first to register this complaint, but if I can influence just one person from being the dork that commits the left lane driving offense, then it was worth my time to write this. Actually, it was worth my time anyway because I wanted to get this off my chest.

Now I’m not complaining about urban traffic where every lane is being used to keep traffic flowing. I’m talking about the boneheads who cruise along in the left lane even when there isn’t an entrance or exit ramp, another vehicle, or anything else around for miles. If you insist on riding in the left lane, the onus is on you to pay attention to traffic approaching from behind you and move out of their way. By the way, once you move to the right to let them pass, STAY THERE!

“Keep Right Except To Pass” – Seems like a simple concept, huh? I mean, you use the right lane to cruise along and if you happen to catch up with someone, you move to the left lane, make the pass and then move back to the right lane. Wow, I can’t really make it any more complicated than that. Unfortunately, I use the “Go Right In Order To Pass” option a multitude of times because the “Keep Right Except To Pass” concept was too hard for a large number of drivers to comprehend. Maybe they feel they need a quarter mile gap in order to move back over to the right. No, I refuse to give them the benefit of the doubt. MAKE YOUR PASS AND MOVE THE HELL BACK OVER TO THE RIGHT LANE!

The one thing I see all the time is people moving into the left lane to make a pass, but not accelerating to complete the pass and move out of the way of faster traffic. The problem is they had their cruise control set at 1 mph faster than the guy they were passing, so it took 10 minutes to make the pass while backing up faster traffic behind them. If you find yourself moving into the left lane to pass, MAKE THE PASS! Don’t screw around in the left lane. Here’s a helpful hint: Your gas pedal still works when your cruise control is set. You can actually accelerate by pressing on it to enhance your passing capacity. And guess what else? When you move back to the right lane and lift off of your gas pedal, most of the time your cruise control will revert to the original setting. Cool! (This helpful hint was meant facetiously, but I couldn’t come up with the best set of words to make it flagrantly obnoxious.)

“Slower Traffic Keep Right” – Another simple concept, but yet one that seems to cause mass confusion on the interstate. Look, it doesn’t matter if you’re going 75 mph in a 65 mph zone. If the guy coming up behind you is doing 80 mph, YOU ARE THE SLOWER TRAFFIC! It’s not your responsibility to regulate the speed of others. If you’re passing, make the pass and move over. If you’re cruising, then you’re already in the wrong, so quit cruising in the left lane and MOVE TO THE RIGHT!

Of the hundreds of miles I spent riding on the interstates on my Las Vegas trip earlier this year I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say I saw more than 50 drivers abusing the left lane by either not moving back to the right lane after passing or just simply cruising along in the left lane oblivious to all of the other traffic around them (even when 5 or 6 cars passed them on the right). And by the way, this wasn’t just old drivers, women drivers, Asian drivers or any other stereotypical label you might use in a bad driver joke. This disorder knows no bounds when it comes to age, gender, or ethnicity. Drivers of all ilks are equally capable of ignoring these two simple signs and rules of the road.

“Keep Right Except To Pass”, “Slower Traffic Keep Right” – Remember, the ass that gets run over may be your own!

Alabama Bound – Fisher House Ride Day 7

I’ve made the ride between Austin and Houston many times and there’s not much you can do to jazz it up unless you’re willing to take a lot more time. For the most part, it’s US-290 for 130 miles, especially if you’re destination is the northwest side of Houston. Unfortunately, that also equated to a day of riding without taking many pictures. So, I apologize for the lack of pics in this post. The last 3 days of my ride were mostly on interstates so I didn't take many except when I stopped and visited the Fisher Houses.

Leaving from Kyle did give me some variety though. I used TX-21 to slide east and slightly north to Paige, Texas where I hooked up with US-290 and hauled butt to Houston. I had breakfast plans with friends in Houston and didn’t want to leave them hanging too long.

We were scheduled to meet at a place called The Egg and I, or something equally as un-biker-like. Come on man! I ate breakfast at the Cowboy Café the day before. How was I supposed to eat at some she-she foo-foo place called The Egg and I? Luckily, the place was packed and my buddy Patrick was able to convince his wife, Tanya, that JBs Steakhouse and Grill would be the better place to go for breakfast. So, before I could get off the bike at The Egg and I, Patrick and Tanya stopped me and suggested JBs. God is good.

Breakfast tacos...yum yum!

I had a giant plate of breakfast tacos at JBs and enjoyed spending time with Tanya and Patrick. They were our poker buddies for many years in Texas and I still miss those Saturday night get togethers. Plus, it hit me that the little old lady I met in Roswell reminded me of Tanya. The Roswell lady was much older, but if you added 25 or 30 years to Tanya, I’m guessing you’d get my Roswell girl as the result. They had similar builds and sounded similar although the Roswell lady was raspier. Still, I couldn’t help the comparison between the two and had to tell Tanya I had met her in the future. Maybe there’s something to that Roswell UFO mystery stuff after all. I may have been experiencing time travel in the parking lot of the Cowboy Café.

I spent an enjoyable time with Tanya and Patrick, not to mention loaded up on a good breakfast. We said our goodbyes and I rolled out of JBs parking lot in search of US-290 again. My intention when planning this ride was to stop at the Houston Fisher House on my way through town. But, as usual, I was running later than I planned and wanted to get to Mobile before too late in the day to have dinner with my old high school friends. It was a Saturday morning and I hadn’t hooked up with the director at the Fisher House at the VA hospital in Houston, so all I would be able to do was get a quick picture and keep going. I opted to skip the stop and make up some time.

This brings me to the worst part of the trip. If you are traveling to Mobile, Alabama from Houston, Texas there’s really only one route and it includes hundreds of miles of I-10. You will encounter some of the worst highway in America traveling this section of I-10. It is rough, they throw in miles and miles of construction, and you never know when traffic might just come to a complete stop for no apparent reason. Needless to say, it is not my kind of highway. The only saving grace is the 18 mile bridge across the Atchafalaya Swamp. It’s rough too, but at least you have the swamp on both sides of the highway to keep it interesting. The Atchafalaya Swamp is the largest swamp in the US. It is about 20 miles wide from east to west and 150 miles long from north to south and covers approximately 595,000 acres.

The Atchafalaya Swamp

I had lunch (my usual McDonalds cheeseburgers) in Covington, Louisiana and called ahead to my friends to make sure we were still on for dinner. I was back on I-10 in no time and continued east to Biloxi, Mississippi. Biloxi is home to Keesler Air Force Base and home to another Fisher House. I knew I wouldn’t be allowed on base without the proper paperwork (i.e. I left my registration somewhere other than on me or my bike). Still, I decided to try my luck with the security detail at the gate and see if I could either talk my way onto the base or be allowed to walk. Unfortunately, the gate closest to the Fisher House was not open and the signs directed me to the main gate. The Fisher House was too far from the main gate for this old man to walk, so I had to pass on a visit to this Fisher House too.

I wanted to visit the Keesler Fisher House in particular because they took care of my mom and dad during my dad’s eye surgery at the VA hospital there. Dad couldn’t say enough nice things about the director there and how hospitable the Fisher House staff was. I had exchanged email messages with the director and knew he wasn’t going to be around that weekend, but I still had hoped to be able to pop in for a visit. Oh well, maybe next time I’ll be better prepared.

The lighthouse on US-90 in Biloxi.

I grabbed a couple of pictures in Biloxi and took I-110 back to I-10 for the final run to Mobile. I stopped at the welcome center on I-10 as you cross into Alabama from Mississippi. It’s one of the prettiest rest areas you’ll find. I always make it a point to stop there when I’m traveling east on I-10. The giant oak trees with the Spanish moss hanging from the limbs are beautiful. I like finding a quiet place and sitting there for a few minutes. It refreshes me better than any energy drink and I like to think it restores a little piece of my soul every time I visit there.

The beach in Biloxi with the Beau Rivage Casino in the background.

I had dinner with several friends at a Mexican restaurant just south of I-10 near Theodore. It’s becoming a habit to drag my high school friends out any time I’m in Mobile. It’s nice to get to see them and catch up, but it’s also nice to watch them as they interact with old friends that, in some cases, they haven’t seen in a while either, even though they live in the area. It’s amazing to me how those friendships from more than 30 years ago continue to last and how exciting and interesting it is to get together and hear what everyone has been up to.

After dinner, I jumped back on the bike and rode the remaining 50 miles to Foley, Alabama where my mom and dad live. The next day was Mothers’ Day and I was hoping to surprise my mom. Unfortunately, I let the cat out of the bag when I called Dad earlier that evening to let him know when I’d be arriving. She was standing there as he tried to answer my questions without giving away the secret. She figured it out and he had to tell her before I got there, but it was still a nice surprise.

My niece and former sister-in-law were also visiting, so it was go to get them too. It was a quick visit because I needed to be on the road again the next day, but still, it was worth the extra time to get to say hi, particularly on Mothers’ Day. Of course mom got up the next morning and made us all breakfast, but I think that made the day that much more special for her (at least that’s what I tell myself).

This day covered 700 miles with all but 70 miles on interstates, either US-290 or I-10. 630 miles of interstate riding isn’t really my idea of a good day on the road, but sometimes you just gotta suck it up and roll with it.

Back to Texas - Fisher House Ride Day 6

I woke up on Friday morning, May 7^th, to another great day for riding. That was good because this was scheduled to be a long day with 800 miles across New Mexico and Texas. Unfortunately, I got off to a bad start by out-thinking myself. As I pulled out of my Motel 6, I could have easily ridden across the street and gassed up at the station right there. But, being the impatient, gotta get on the road, kind of guy that I am, I decided to ride down the interstate a few miles and get gas there. I rode the 9 miles south on I-25 to the US-380 east exit only to discover there’s not much at that exit. US-380 goes east into a little town called San Antonio (not the big place in Texas, but the little place in New Mexico) and San Antonio doesn’t have a gas station or at least not one I could see.

I made a u-turn and headed back the way I had come. I-25 north for the 9 miles and 20 minutes later, I pulled into the Phillips 66 station across the street from my Motel 6 where I filled up the tank. I wasted 30 minutes and rode 20 miles and hadn’t made a lick of progress. Nice! Then it was back on I-25 for the third time to travel the 9 miles back to San Antonio. Ay yi yi!!!

A view of Sierra Blanca from across the desert west of Lincoln.

But, all was not lost. US-380 took me east across some of my favorite terrain in New Mexico. If you’ve never been to south central and southeast New Mexico you’re missing some of the best territory the southwestern US has to offer. I highly recommend you make a trip to the Ruidoso area and enjoy the Lincoln National Forest and the Capitan and Sacramento Mountains. The nearest airport is probably El Paso, Texas, but even the 140 mile ride up from El Paso is scenic and takes you along the edge of the White Sands Missile Range. Don’t let the desert sands fool you though. After about 100 miles you hit the mountains and then the scenery becomes excellent.

US-380 passes north of Sierra Blanca (a 12,003 ft peak near Ruidoso) and south of El Capitan Mountain (a 10,083 ft peak north of Lincoln). It also passes directly through Lincoln, NM where Billy the Kid made his famous escape from the Lincoln County Jail. The terrain around Lincoln is rough and untamed. I think that’s what I like about it. I love imagining what it must have been like back in the 19^th century riding horseback through this territory. Of course, that would have been during the peak of the Lincoln County War where a man might have had to pick a side that could leave him dead. So, maybe riding across on a Harley in the 21^st century isn’t so bad.

An example of the some of the rugged territory in the Capitan Mountains.

Billy the Kid made his daring escape from the Lincoln County Jail on April 28, 1881, just a couple of weeks before his scheduled May 13^th hanging. In the process of escaping, he killed two deputies. In July 1881, Pat Garrett, the sheriff of Lincoln County, made his way into Fort Sumner, NM where he learned Billy was staying with a friend there. He surprised Billy in the middle of the night on July 14^th and shot him dead in the Maxwell house. Billy the Kid’s grave is located in Fort Sumner which is about 140 miles northeast of Lincoln. I’ve visited it before on one of my trips through New Mexico, but not this time. Of course, there were rumors and stories for years that Billy wasn’t killed that night by Garrett and one such story even includes him dying in Texas at a ripe old age. I’ll leave that mystery for someone else to solve. I just like the territory and the legend of the area.

The historic sign in Lincoln explaining the origins of the Lincoln County War.

I made a stop in Lincoln to look around. I’ve been here before too, so it was a quick stop to get a couple of pictures and give my butt a rest after 100 miles or so in the saddle. US-380 merges in with US-70 10 miles east of Lincoln in a little town called Hondo. From there it was another 48 miles to Roswell, home of UFOs and aliens. The road between Hondo and Roswell takes you from the mountains back into the desert. It’s wide open and terrific pavement. I opened up the throttle and jumped in behind a local pickup truck that was running 80-85 mph.

The only problem we encountered was a ladder lying in the road. The problem was, the guy I was following at 80-plus mph decided he needed to stop and pick up the ladder. There was never any real drama, but the sudden stop did send a quick charge of adrenaline through my veins as I dodged him and rolled on east toward Roswell. About a quarter mile up the road I saw another pickup truck turning around. I don’t know if he was the original owner of the ladder or just a scavenger like the guy who had been in front of me, but either way, I was tempted to turn back myself and see who got the ladder. Hopefully, they settled it peacefully. I didn’t hear anything in the news that night about a massive gunfight in the New Mexico desert over a ladder, so I suppose it all worked out ok.

More of the New Mexico countryside outside of Hondo.

In addition to it being time to refill the gas tank, I decided I needed breakfast and began looking for a local diner as I rode slowly through Roswell. I saw a gas station on the east side of town to my left and almost missed the diner on my right. Luckily, I spotted the parking lot full of pickup trucks out of the corner of my eye and knew immediately that the Cowboy Café was going to my home away from home for breakfast. You can never go wrong by eating at a local place with a parking lot full of pickup trucks, particularly if you’re looking for a good breakfast.

I filled the gas tank and turned back to cover the half a block to the Cowboy Café. The Cowboy Café shares a parking lot with the gun store next door. How in the world could I go wrong? A parking lot full of pickups and a gun store next door? This place had to be the best diner in town.

The Cowboy Cafe. I highly recommend it for breakfast if you ever find yourself in the Roswell area some day.

I was not disappointed. The service included a couple of terrific waitresses who welcomed me up to the bar and made sure my coffee cup stayed full. They handed me a copy of the local paper to peruse while I waited for my breakfast. My incredibly large breakfast arrived a few minutes later and was topped off by an offer I couldn’t refuse. “You want some homemade hot sauce with that, honey?” the waitress said to me. “Oh, heck yeah!” was my reply. Needless to say, I was in gastronomic heaven! I just had to hope the hot sauce didn’t decide to go on the offensive somewhere down the road.

After getting my fill of eggs, bacon, toast and coffee, I made my way back into the parking lot. I was shedding a layer of clothing since the cool of the morning was wearing off and moving some things around in the saddle bags when a little old lady walked up and started chatting with me. She was decked out in a red outfit that included red shoes and a red leather driving cap (I noticed her Mercedes sitting next to me). She stood 5-foot nothing and had a raspy voice like you would expect from someone who may have smoked for many years.

We chatted for 20 minutes or so as she told me about her life. Her husband of 50-plus years had passed away a couple of years before and she had moved from Roswell to Midland, Texas. Her reason for the move was to go somewhere that had better airline services so she could travel more. (This should give you an idea of how “in the middle of nowhere” Roswell is. Midland, Texas isn’t exactly a metropolis, but it’s bigger than Roswell and apparently, after taking a quick hop into Dallas or Houston, the world is at her fingertips.) Her and her husband had always talked about travel, but, as it goes in life, didn’t get around to doing much of it. She decided she wanted to rectify that situation after his death and was out seeing the world. She was in Roswell visiting her daughter. And, to make it even more interesting, she told me about how much she enjoyed riding a Harley years before with a friend who had one. She was wonderful and, while I knew I had a lot of miles to still cover, I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a few minutes. I feel like a jackass for not getting her name or a picture. It was such a good time talking with her and listening to her stories that I completely forgot to document it for my ride story.

I continued on US-380 east out of Roswell. Eastern New Mexico and west Texas are very much alike when it comes to the terrain and scenery. It’s mostly flat farm land covered with oil wells (some pumping sweet crude, while others sit rusting away). There are a lot more active wells now than I remember the last time I drove through the area. I’m sure the increase in oil prices has a lot to do with that, but I can remember riding through and seeing acres of wells sitting idle in years past, so it was good to see them pumping and feeding the local economy again.

They were even drilling new wells in West Texas. This was one of several drilling sites I passed during the day.

85 miles east of Roswell, I passed into Texas on US-380. I always give a loud “Woo Hoo!!!” when I cross into Texas from any direction. I lived in Texas for more than 20 years and still have a hard time believing I left there. But hey, you gotta put food on the table and the job was in Virginia, so whatta ya gonna do? Plus, Virginia’s pretty great too. Still, there’s something about that Texas mystic. It’s a lot like the Harley mystic. If I have to explain, you wouldn’t understand. Texas is a special place.

I made a gas stop in Brownfield, Texas. I had planned to get to the east side of town, but a freight train on the west side of town had me blocked anyway, so I decided to fill up at the local farmers co-op on my side of the tracks. I met a few other bikers from Kentucky and North Carolina who were filling up there too. The group was riding together, but the Kentucky twosome were turning north out of Brownfield, while the North Carolina threesome was continuing east to ultimately catch I-20 across the southern US. I didn’t ask where they had been, but we did discuss the great riding weather we were having on this particular day. They rode out a couple of minutes ahead of me, but I passed the North Carolina boys a few miles east of town. North Carolina was in my plans too, but not for a couple of more days.

In a little town called Post, Texas I swung southeast on US-84 toward Abilene. US-84 is a four-lane highway and the most memorable part of this stretch of highway was the wind farms. I assume this is the area where T. Boone Pickens has put his money where his mouth is. The windmills were located in large groups along the ridges and generating power for the towns and farms in the region. I was impressed with the number of windmills in the area. I guess T. Boone was serious when he said we needed to be investing in alternative energy sources.

An example of the wind farms in West Texas. If you look closely you can see the windmills continue across the horizon.

I passed a freight train loaded with military vehicles as I rode southeast on US-84. The train was sliding more east than US-84 and was getting further away, so I decided to take detour and see if I could get to a crossing that would allow me to get a picture of it. I jumped on a farm-to-market (FM) road (Texas designates some of the rural roads as FM roads that are maintained by the state, but aren’t designated as state highways because they are typically smaller roads and connect rural or agricultural areas to market towns.) This was FM-1606 to be exact and it delivered me to the train crossing a mile or so east of US-84. I got there in time to pull my camera from the saddle bag and snap a couple of pictures as the train rumbled by.

The train full of military gear headed south toward Abilene.

Getting up close and personal with the train.

I decided since I was already on a detour, I would continue on FM-1606 and see where it took me. It was a good decision since I stumbled upon a scene that contrasted the old and new in a way I wouldn’t have encountered without the detour. I passed by an old farm with an old broken down water windmill standing beside it. In the background was this massive new electric windmill. It made for a great picture.

I thought this picture best tells the story of why I like to get off the beaten path. Here the old and new collided in a way I wouldn't have seen without my detour down FM-1606.

I continued east on FM-1606 only to discover that it seemed to go on for miles without anything in sight. By this time, I had around 135 miles on the tank of gas and knew I was going to need more in the next 20 or 30 miles or else I’d be pushing that Harley down the road. Since nothing appeared ahead of me, I decided to u-turn back toward US-84 and take a little road I saw earlier that went south. I knew as long as I traveled south and/or west I would ultimately hit either US-84 again or I-20. Either one would get me where I needed to be.

As it turns out, I ultimately found myself back on US-84. I rode it to I-20 where I headed east for gas and lunch in Sweetwater. A full tank of gas and two McDonalds cheeseburgers later, I was back on I-20 headed east into Abilene where I took US-84 again going southeast across Texas. I rode the 125 miles from Sweetwater to Early where I made another gas stop. By now, I was in “racing the sun” mode. My planned stop was in College Station and that was still more than 200 miles away. There was still a lot of daylight left, but not that much daylight. It was looking inevitable that I would find myself riding through parts of Texas in the dark and that brings a whole host of critters into the equation.

In Goldwaithe, Texas I had to make a decision. I could blow off going to College Station, turn south on US-183 and ride into Austin and find a place for the night, or I could continue east on US-84 and make a run for College Station. I opted to make the run for College Station and headed east out of town on US-84.

A couple of miles outside of town I noticed a guy and a dog walking on the other side of the road. I could see that the dog wasn’t on a leash and, as you probably guessed by now, the dog bolted across the road in front of me. As he crossed he hesitated for a split second in my lane. I hit the brakes, locking up the rear, and start sliding toward him trying to keep the bike under control. The squeal of my rear tire must have snapped the dog out of his hesitation and he jumped out of the way. I slid the bike past him only to look in the mirror and see him dart back across the road in front of a mini-van that barely missed him.

This was particularly unusual because back in 2003 I was riding back from Oklahoma and passed through Goldwaithe going south on TX-16. On that occasion I had just passed through town and was running the bike back up to 70 mph when I noticed a dog crouched in his yard. You could tell he was going to chase me, so I slid over to the left side of my lane and got ready to blow past him. Well, he was smarter and quicker than me. He barreled out of the yard and made a beeline for my right ankle. He hit me solid and sent me and the bike flying into the northbound lane. Nothing was coming, so I was never in danger of hitting something, but still, the impact was significant. When I looked back I expected to see him sprawled out in the road. Instead, he was upright and walking back into his yard. What a tough SOB! I was very impressed.

Within half a mile I felt the pain begin to build in my right boot. I honestly thought the little bastard had broken my ankle. I could feel the swelling. But, just like this trip, I was racing the sun then too and couldn’t afford to stop. I kept riding and tried my best to ignore the pain.

I reached my motel that evening and the first thing I noticed were the bite marks in my leather chaps. He apparently drilled me with mouth wide open. The next obstacle was removing my boot. First, I had to take my knife and pry open the eyelets on my boot because they were smashed together and wouldn’t let the laces come loose. Once that was done, I was able to remove the boot and looked down at an ankle that was a purplish, blackish color. It wasn’t broken, but it was in far worse shape than it had been when I rode into Goldwaithe that day.

Score: Goldwaithe dogs 2 – Chuck zero!

I rode US-84 east toward Waco and reached the outskirts of town as the sun set behind me. I had only traveled 120 miles since the last gas stop, but it had been a long day in the saddle and I didn’t want to risk passing through Waco without topping off the tank. I made a gas stop and decided to check my phone messages and let Renee know my plans for the evening. As it turned out she was talking to my son Jeremy (the one who had gotten married a couple of days before in Vegas). He invited me to come spend the night with them in Kyle instead of going to College Station. The only rub was that Kyle is south of Austin and (if you remember my decision point in Goldwaithe from above) I had already intentionally gone east toward Waco instead of south toward Austin.

It was decision time again. I could go the 90 miles to College Station on TX-6 (two lanes, slow and deer) and pay for a motel room or I could go the 125 miles to Kyle on I-35 (four lanes, speed and deer) and sleep for free. Being the cheapskate that I am, I opted for the free night in Kyle.

I flew past the Horny Toad Harley-Davidson shop in Killeen and fought the idiots on I-35 where driving in the left lane for no apparent reason seems to be the state pastime. I arrived in Kyle sometime around 10PM and crashed my daughter-in-law’s first night home as a married woman. Luckily, she let me in the door and we enjoyed fajitas and a cold beer (or two).

This day ended with 810 miles under my belt and about 16 hours on the road (counting the first 30 minutes where I made no progress at all). It also included some of the best riding of the trip across New Mexico and Texas. It was a long day, but a terrific day that ended with Jeremy and Casey, our newest addition to our family. It doesn’t get much better than that! Plus, the sofa I slept on was very comfortable. I was able to get a good night’s rest and was back on the bike early the next morning headed for Houston and breakfast with friends.