Winchester TN, Kiwi Mike

We depart from the motel and have breakfast at the Waffle House just down the road. I've had better starts to the day but Greg likes the Waffle House so I'm in, ONCE. Hopefully it’s out of his system now even though he commented that tonights town one. I make sure we pose for a pic with our Indians in front of the Waffle House for my mate Ziggy since he loves em way too much in my mind.

We head off down the road on the beautiful Natchez Trace Parkway. About 50 miles up the road is the Alabama (AL) state line and about another 50 miles is the Tennessee (TN) state line. The parkway is nicely manicured and each state keeps it as good as the other which is a credit to them all. Speed limit today is 50 mph and it’s about right to enjoy it. It’s just a super nice motorcycling road and not having to worry about a lot of traffic is nice too. Traffic is so far and few between that when it rains we stop in the middle of the road (since there are no shoulders) and take our time putting on our rain gear and no one comes on by.

We stop for gas in Oakland AL which is about 6 miles off the Trace Parkway. I spot a small hidden what looks like to be a gas pump so we cruise in. Folks up this way know their motorcycles and know an Indian when they see one. Neither of our bikes has Indian on it so we know they aren’t reading any tank badge.

Its a hole in the wall stop where the 2 pump station is the local grocer, food stop, hang out, etc. 1 young colorful character excitedly came up to us and said those are Indians, I love old bikes. I got an old Honda Dream that's been in my family since new and dug out a pic of it. He introduced himself as Blair but my friends call me Tackle Box, you can call me Tackle Box. He was a character and the reason why his friends call him Tackle Box is because of all the piercings, rings and jewelry poking out of his face, nose, lips and ears. Way cool dude indeed, man did we have some fun. He left and we thought bugger, we missed a photo opportunity there. Well next thing you know he's back with his girl friend/wife/sister Tania and another mate in his jeep. He's all pumped up to show them the bikes and introduce us so we get the photo pose this time around. Tania couldn’t wait either. It was a fun stop and hurridly they went off to their job.

We toodle off back tracking to the Parkway and end up for a late lunch in Lawrenceville TN, the home of David Crockett. We pull up to a gas station and ask what looks like to be 2 locals, hey mates, where can we get a good feed in this town. What you boys wont ta eat. How about some Catfish at a ma and pa place as we want a different experience each time we eat. They send us to a Super Stop gas station at the other end of town and tell us don’t worry about the looks of it as they have the best fried stuff around and its fresh. We believe them and cruise in. I say to the lady, I hear you got the best darn Catfish in these parts. She replied Hot digity dog, by god they be skippy right we got the best darn Catfish around. Ok so hook us up with 8 pieces, can we get em straight out of the fryer. Yep u sure can, it’ll be 7 minutes. No worries, we’ll take a seat and hang out.

2 other gentlemen were also sitting near us just killing time. They drove the town trash truck and were having a break and as usual we engage in conversation. A short time later we noticed 2 young guys checking out our bikes VERY closely with great interest. They came in and said those are Indians aren’t they. Yep sure are. They were the sons of one of the drivers and we all spoke for quite a while eating lunch. These 2 boys were super polite and had great manners. We then worked our way outside to fire up the bikes but we got even deeper into conversation and more folks joined us. 1 such gentleman was Doug Gibson from Leoma TN. Doug was wearing a Coast Guard hat and was a very proud Coast Guard man. He noticed the CG stripes on the bike as he was driving down the road and just had to pop in. We engaged into some really great history about the CG and some of the missions they are currently involved in especially in the Gulf area which he has served. It was truly a great experience as he was super knowledgeable. Thanks Doug, it was truly my pleasure and thanks for your service.

As we pulled out of the service station I kicked in the siren for Doug and gave it a whirl. We stop at the gas station curb waiting for the traffic to clear and low and behold there’s a cop standing in the middle of the road with the road works guys looking over the top of his sun glasses. Oh shit, I’ve done it this time as we have to cruise by him to get out of town. Turned out he just loved our old bikes and gave us the thumbs up. I daren’t kick in the siren again.

I did find 1 flaw with the siren though while in the rain in Oklahoma, it does not work in the wet as it just skids on the tire. So this would lead me to believe that if you did something wrong way back when on a rainy day, you probably did not get pursued as the siren wouldn’t work.

I had noticed at each end of the bridges on hwy 64 the road dept has smoothed out each entry and exit to each bridge but they had forgot one. I’m leading and the road looks good then all of a sudden I hit a dip that bottoms out my seat post and gives me a wild ride. WTF. Dang that is dangerous but I managed to keep it together but it did send a sharp jar up my ass and back. Brown marks are still on the outside of my pants.

I only lead when we don’t have turns. I get so engrossed into everything else around me that I overlook the road signs that we need to turn on. Greg calls it MADD, Motorcycle Attention Deficit Disorder. Yep that’ll be me. Maybe I need a GPS but we are old school and running with paper maps.

We hit some real good rain this afternoon and our rain suits are holding up well. I love my new boots, still dry after all that water that splashed onto them.

I’ve been asking around each part of the country we go for the slang saying/term of what they would say when something is super good.

Down South it’s “We be shittin in tall cotton”. We haven’t dialed in what the term is here in TN yet but we’ll keep searching.

We look forward to our gas stops each day as we meet people from all walks of life. Realistically we don’t know where each one leads us too. Sometimes it’s why don’t you guys come down to the bar and hang out with us as there are other bikers there too. Well I have a strict policy of NO drinking and riding. Greg and I may have a beer at the end of the day now and again but it is only when we are totally done with riding.

Most of the scenery we all come across can be found in many other parts of the world but it’s the people that make the difference. They are the experience that makes this all so colorful and enjoyable.

Our bikes bring out the best in people.

Winchester 2605 total miles

We were supposed to be in Fayetteville tonight but were feeling it so churned out another 50 miles to end up in Winchester tennesee. Great town that kept us under budget for the night at $43 all in. Fist bump on that one. The day started bright and sunny with not a cloud In the sky. Our hotel last night did not have breakfast so we headed in to town to feed the savage soul before our ride. Low and behold right after the first turn what should appear but a waffle house. Yum! Did not know that kiwi had a bad history with them but we decided to try again. Got to chat with a good old gal that had worked for waffle house for 21 years. Damn that is a lot of waffles. We headed out on the Natchez trace again andhad a fabulous ride. All of the traffic seemed to be going the other way so we figured we were shittin' in tall cotton. Sat back and listened to the flatty sing it's song mile after mile. During a trip like this it never gets tiring listening to the motor purr and churn out the miles. Stopped to take a pic at the state line as we crossed In to Alabama. The only state kiwi has missed so far is new Mexico and that is becuae the sign was right on the side of the road with no where to pull the bike around to get a pic. After the pic we headed on down the black ribbon until we came upon some massive Indian burial mounds. I have seen mounds before in Minnesota but nothing like these. They had to be 20 feet tall. I explained to kiwi the significance of the mounds and why a pic was in order. He just thought they we piles of dirt. I could see why as I am guessing they do not have burial mounds in kiwi land. Our need for fuel took over and we asked some nice folks on real pedal bikes about a good exit. They told us to go the Florence route so off we went. As we headed east towards Florence we had the tiny county road to ourselves. I was newly paved so a del it to travel on. About half way to Florence we see a little Alabama burg called Oakland. They have a feed store on one side ofthe road and a gas station on the other. Good enough for us so we hang a right and screech to a stop in front of the pumps. Several people walk by and yak with us until finally a young man comes out and he really knows vintage bikes. We yak like old buds and he clearly has a great appreciation for what we are doig and the motorcycles themselves. As he is about to leave he tells us his name is so and so but everyone calls me tackle box. Guess why? I am looking at him and he has many piercings on his face as well as ear plugs I think they are called. Very unusual looking for this neck of the woods. As he and kiwi are talking I am thinking that looks Like a fishing lure hanging down. I am thinking it might have been. Super nice young man and we were so pissed at ourselves that we got so engrossed in conversation that we for got to take a pic with him. As kiwi is in getting our change who should roll back in but tackle box! He had gone to pick up a young lady and another friend so they could see the bikes. We were thrilled to see him. Tonya jumps out of his jeep and runs over to my bike for a pic. Two there and then she runs over to kiwi and takes 2 more there. Tackle box had one with me and then with kiwi so everyone was happy. They jumped back in their jeep so not to be late to work and off they went as we were gunning the motors into first gear. Tackle box- we were so glad to have met you guys. You brightened our day as well. We started I Mississippi and then put Alabama in the rear view mirror as we crossed into tennesee. As we hit lawrenceburg kiwi noticed it was the birth place of davey crocket so another huge photo op. While we were stopped we figured we might as well inquire about lunch from one of the locals. Kiwi got directions to some good catfish so off we went. Had no trouble finding the place but the catfish in the bucket had been there a while. The lady behind the counter said why don't I just cook up some fresh for you boys. How could we refuse such southern hospitality? As we sat waiting for the fish to be cooked 2 young men swung In the parking lot and were ogling the bikes. They finally came in and were 2 of the nicest most polite young men we have ever encountered. They were in awe of the bikes and even more so whe we told them where we had started. Later their dad came in and we had a wonderful chat with the whole group. We ended up being there an hour having a blast with all of the folks that stopped in t see us. Not sure if someone was calling them or they just saw the action. Doesn't matter we had a hoot yakking about our trip and the bikes. Get this- as we are talking a guy comes over wearing a weathered coast guard cap. He had a wonderful time talking to kiwi about the bike and our trip. How do you write that script that he is driving into the same place we have stopped for lunch? Some things are meant to be. Wish we had more time to hang with you guys but the open road never stops calling. Just know we loved having you enjoy the bikes and our company for even that brief time. The rest of the day was oo ding the road to get some extra miles in. Ended up In winchester and as I said earlier we were under budget for the sleeping accommodations. Dinner and a good night sleep then do it all over again. Things are about to pick up significantly as we head into north Carolina tomorrow looking at the tail of the dragon Wednesday morning. Bring it on baby!

Natchez Trace History

If you had taken a trip down the Natchez Trace when it first opened, you might have been a bit frustrated. Those mastodons were real road hogs. In those days, 7,000 or so years ago, between the mastodons and the giant bison pounding out the trail, the passing lane could be a nightmare. Later, as the game grew smaller, and the Native Americans of pre-history arrived, you'd have needed speed and stealth to just to keep up with the hunt. Later still, a few arrowheads would have stood you in good stead as the tribes formed, Chickasaw and Choctaw among them, and trading along the route picked up. But after the conquistadors came, you could forget that simple arrowhead. Hostilities between Native American raiding parties and white travelers became everyday occurrences, as did the stick-ups by robbers and thieves who preyed on the rough and tumble Kaintuck boatmen who floated down the Mississippi River to sell their goods and flatboats in New Orleans, then walked back home on the Natchez Trace. The Devil's Backbone-that's what the Trace was called back then, and for good reason.


Of course, if you'd traveled the Trace at that time, you might have met some interesting people, like John James Audubon sketching birds, or Aaron Burr hatching conspiracies. Or Andrew Jackson, whose army marched down the Trace to win the Battle of New Orleans, then marauded its way back up, when Thomas Jefferson cut off its funds. Jackson also took his new bride honeymooning on the Natchez Trace-a trip that proved scandalous when it was discovered she wasn't quite divorced from her first husband at the time!
And while it was dicey in those days to honeymoon on the Natchez Trace (Andrew and Rachel went with a party of 100 people, just for safety), if you had wanted to honeymoon on the Trace in the early part of the twentieth century, you would have found it even tougher going, since by then disuse and incorporation into local thoroughfares meant there was hardly any road to be found. The Natchez Trace might have disappeared without a trace, but thanks to legislation introduced during Franklin Roosevelt's administration, the Natchez Trace National Parkway was created, 444 miles of breathtakingly scenic road running from Natchez to Nashville. Construction wasn't easy; it took 67 years from start to finish, but then again, given the true age of the Natchez Trace, that's barely a moment in time.

Today all those eons of rich history are still in evidence along a roadway offering up mile after mile of splendid natural beauty. Forget ugly billboards and crass commercialization, the vistas here are as unspoiled as they were in centuries past-minus, of course, the mastodons and the galloping highway robbers.