Thru the Peephole: Musings on the Strange, Interesting, and Maddening Characters We Meet “On the Road”
By Allan Gereg of St. Clairsville, Ohio.
Chapter 14: Down for the “Count” in Louisiana
This is the fourteenth and last chapter of motorcycling stories written back in 1992 which were my contributions to our motorcycle club newsletter. We were quite a bunch … “The BMW Riders of Northern West Virginia”… I think just as many of our members lived in Pennsylvania and Ohio… but it was just a name! Credit for establishing the club went to my long-time best friend and riding companion (the “Doug” in all my stories), Paul Douglas Adams, who, after a quiet and private battle with lupus, died at the age of fifty. At the time he established the club, he suffered with the disease, but always minimized its severity, and acted as though it was of no concern. We spent much time together over the years and many a motorcycle mile we shared, and in the end he wanted to spare me the agony of knowing that he was dying. I would rather have liked it otherwise, so that I could have spent as much time with him as possible. I guess his death impacted me quite profoundly… I haven’t ridden a motorcycle much since… what a sacrilege… I used to think that motorcycling would be a part of my life until I couldn’t swing a leg over the saddle… I loved it with a true passion and shared that zeal with my best buddy. Life is strange… you can never say “never”, no matter how strong the devotion, ay?
Anyway, this last chapter has remained the unfinished chapter for all these years. Doug and I made the trip in 1992 and called it our “Southern Exposure Tour.” I formulated a title (as you will see for obvious reason) during my writing binge, but never continued. I guess I liked the mystery of placing the germ of an idea in the reader’s mind, then leaving its fruition dangle!
By the early 1990’s, our yearly bike trips had started to shorten due to commitments and complications of marriage, family and other folderol.
But in 1992, Doug and I decided we would take a foray into the “Deep South”.
We were making plans to travel in those southern states that we yet had the pleasure to view on two wheels… and there were a few of them… with our eventual destination being the BMW Motorcycle Owners of America Annual Rally which was held that year in DuQuoin, Illinois. Again, sacrifices had to be made because time was an enemy, so images of us cruising down the breezy beaches of the “Sunshine State” were dimming quickly. We pretty much figured that we were going to make a right turn somewhere down in Alabama and head West. We traveled uneventfully across Ohio and south thru Nashville (saw no Cats!). We stopped at the Alabama Welcome Center and gazed at the “space ships” displayed there. We whizzed thru Decatur all in a whirl. If we had the time, it would have been great to try to look up an old Army buddy who came from this area… he was a good ole fun-lovin’ Southern Boy, Mark Conners… always smiling and joking… thinking about him brings back wonderful (30 year old!) memories of the friends I made while serving the “Red, White, and Blue” Most of my tour of duty was spent in southern Germany… “Bavaria”… quite a lovely place. I could rattle on for hours about those experiences… but that’s for another story, ay? On we rode straight thru the heart of Dixie and ended up passin’ thru “Boyminham” before we turned westward.
Of course, one of the highlights of these trips was the chance to sample the local cuisine. We always loved to start the day with a good breakfast, so this became a tradition, whenever possible, to stop at a local “greasy spoon” type diner and get some eggs… we steered clear of the franchised “big city” restaurants… cookie cutter food… good enough… but there’s no Character in those “fancy-built-new–to-look-old” places like there is at “Wanda’s Home-Cookin’” or “Bob’s Lunch” (which, incidentally, to this day serves a 99-cent breakfast of two eggs, home-fries and toast!) As I look back on the memories of our bike trips, many of the people we met and whose adventures I retold for posterity, were in, around, or behind an eating establishment! F’rinstance, remember these folks:
- The Rotund 100 mph PeaPlanter from Virginia
- The old farmer admiring our “sickles” on the way to Low-retty Lynn’s.
- The “Biker Brother” up on Lake Superior
- The lovely “Miss Burlington” in Vermont
So, it was westward ho thru Alabama and we headed across “Mizzzippi” through Meridian and Jackson. The weather was hot and humid, but we managed to stay dry… no rain showers. We had many a good breakfast of eggs and grits (of course, grits were everywhere… I suppose you could get them for dessert… grit-flavored ice cream? We pressed on to Vicksburg, that famous Civil War City on the “Muddy Mizizip”. As we crossed the river a strange thing happened… we entered Louisiana… welcomed by a painted pelican on the sign at the state-line. Once past that welcome sign, the weather seemed to have changed dramatically… from a relatively bearable heat to an excruciating, humid, heavy swelter. How could the climate change so quickly? Maybe it’s just something about Louisiana? It was such a smothering heat that you actually felt yourself being dragged down… it could be serious physically… heat stroke could put you under purty quick! You might in truth be “down for the count.”
We traveled north, up along the river on Route 65 until we came to a sleepy, little cluster of buildings surrounded by farm fields. We were greeted by a rather large sign at the edge of town: “Welcome to Transylvania, LA!” Well, what’ya know! … Transylvania? Would we be accosted by a dapper, yet ghoulish caped vampire?… Naaa… just “Elmo” at the General Store hawking every kind of gaudy souvenir and rubber knicky-knack you can imagine. Coffee cups, tee-shirts, vampire fangs, black capes, and rubber bats and cats. Yikes, we have run into a macabre gyp-joint out in the Louisiana back-country! We couldn’t get out of town without each buying a tee-shirt! Mine was purple with a stylized Dracula holding up a wine glass full of red liquid, with a caption saying, “I Vant to Drink your Blood in… Transylvania, Louisiana”, or some such “catchy” epithet. The incongruity of conjuring up images of Bela Legosi in a farm field in Louisiana is more than weird…can you imagine Lagosi chatterin’ away with a Lewsyana drawl or better yet a Cajun twang!! Yoiks!
Yes, these motorcycling treks have taken Doug and I to many famous places across the globe… Transylvania (LA)… Beemerville (home of BMW motorcycles in Illinois?… no!)… Mexico & West Peru (ME)… ¿Usted habla Español?… Manchester (NH)… Ay, Wot?… and Lebanon (NH)… aw, Baloney!
Of course, we never left our country to see these places… and many more… All on two wheels and with the best Ridin’ Partner a fellow could have… I miss you Doug… But hey, it’s OK… the bikes never break down where you are, do they?