Riding to Big Bend

Suicidal Rabbits and BIG OPEN SPACES

May 26, 2003

Garrett and I crashed out on Sunday night around midnight and popped up around 5am.  We geared up and headed to Bill's place, which is about an hour north from Garrett's house.  When we got up and geared up it was pouring rain.  Garrett and I (or at least I) couldn't have cared less.  The road was calling and I had delayed answering as long as I intended to.  On the other hand, Bill was in no mood to ride in the pouring rain if he could avoid it.  Before we left for his house I called him and told him we were on our way.  Bill probably would have preferred that we wait until it dried out - but I know how that works, it is never dry enough, or cool enough, or warm enough or whatever enough.  "Why are you so driven?" Bill asked when I explained that we were on our way - "Have you ever known me to be otherwise?" was all I could think to reply.

By the way, I packed my rain jacket but not my rain pants.  It may seem stupid (certainly stupider as you read on) but the pants are just too big a hassle for me.   I just want to keep the upper body warm and let my pants get wet below the knees.  Usually - unless you are in stop and go traffic in the rain - your pants only get wet below the knees anyway.  If you are in stop and go traffic, or are moving at sub-highway speeds, then you will be soaked and miserable.

However, it wasn't just raining that morning - it was pouring.  And it poured on Garrett and I all the way to Bill's house.  Here I am, clearly soaked above my knees, in Bill's garage.

After we took the above picture we thought it would be fun to give us all night blindness prior to leaving, so we took this shot.

It didn't rain for too much longer, and maybe an hour or so after arriving at Bill's house we were ready to leave. 

I had forgotten how much fun motorcycle riding in central Texas is.  Compared to Florida, Texas is positively mountainous - with rolling hills and roads that actually curve.  The ride out was fairly smooth once the rain ended - at least until Bill met the suicidal rabbit.

Bill had been leading the trip to this point, and it had been smooth if a tad slower than Garrett and I typically ride (see Viva Las Vegas 2001 story for details).  Still it was a good ride with lots of sun and open spaces. 

Coming around a corner Bill met the Rabbit of Death (at least, its own death).  As he was approaching the bend the rabbit darted into the middle of the road and did that 'back and forth' action that rabbits and squirrels seem to have perfected.  As a sidenote, if you are a rabbit being chased by a larger animal, the back and forth will probably confuse the predator and you can get away.  If on the other hand you are dodging a 400 lb motorcycle that is going in a straight line, then the back and forth doesn't do too much other than confuse the person on the motorcycle and amuse the grim reaper.

So, the rabbit darts out, does the back and forth, and Bill in his compassion swerves to miss it by moving into ONCOMING TRAFFIC.  Suddenly, Bill shifted from 'compassionate and safety conscious' directly to  'good intentions pave the road to hell.'  First off, Bill  hit the rabbit while he was swerving - right in the eye - and the rabbit proceeded to somersault end over end before landing in the middle of the road, quite dead.  Then, once into 'full swerve' Bill noticed that he was aiming DIRECTLY FOR THE HOOD OF A BUICK.  At this point Bill heads for the shoulder of the road and almost (ALMOST!) was able to pull it off and get back on the road. 

But, he didn't.  Instead, the back end slid out from underneath him and then vaulted him off the bike.  All in all Bill was fine save for the following:  A serious damper in his mood, and a big toe that was now the size and shape of a head of cauliflower.  Take a head of cauliflower, dip it in purple dye, and stuff it into your shoe - now, put the rest of your foot in there . . . it was something like that.  The other thing that wasn't too fun was that Bill had buried most of the foliage from the shoulder of the road into his bike, and he and Garrett spent a few minutes digging it out.  Here is a shot of 'grumpy Bill' cursing under his breath and digging the dirt out of his motorcycle.

Here is a shot of Garrett and Bill huddling behind the bike pulling out earth, earthworms, gravel, grit, grubs, and a small piece of real estate out of the bike.  Notice the rabbit?  I took the liberty of retrieving him, I felt he would appreciate the post mortem celebrity.

Speaking of Garrett, and the rabbit, and I:  There is a certain type of behavior common among survivors of accidents.  Often times, when an accident or catastrophe happens those who survive or come out otherwise unscathed suffer guilt.  "Why me?" they ask "why did this terrible thing happen to (name) and not me?"  Those of us who have had more than a few traumas or catastrophes in our lives have an almost diametrically opposite response. 

Garrett and I were both buzzed by the whole experience.  Not at Bill's suffering or embarrassment, but rather that we had all cheated disaster.  Imagine seeing the long, bony, blackened outline of the grim reaper, watching him pull back his scythe and swing, only to completely miss and land on his ass. . .   As many times as Mr. Reaper and I have chatted over the years, I would like to think we have an amiable relationship - he has his job and I have mine.  It is kind of like speeding down the highway, you know the cops are out there - you just keep your eyes open and hope for the best.  A radar detector doesn't hurt either if you can get your hands on one.  So, here is a shot of Garrett, obviously buzzing on more than a little adrenaline, threatening to re-kill the rabbit.  I wanted to decapitate it and mount the skull on Bill's fender as a trophy - but that wasn't well received at all.  Pity.

We still had something like six or seven hours of riding ahead of us, so we made sure Bill was ok, the bike was ok and the rabbit was still dead,- then we got back to the business of the road trip.  We stopped at Junction and ate a standard, nondescript, truck stop meal and I changed into a dry pair of shoes.  My feet had been turning to mush inside my soaked sneakers since 5am and I was ready to change into the backup pair I had brought for just this occurrence.

The ride from Junction to Big Bend was basically a long, mindless haul down I-10 and then a left turn followed by another long mindless haul to Alpine which is where you turn into Big Bend.  The ride from (insert town name here) to Big Bend is another hour or so, but at least it starts to get interesting.  Here we are in (insert town name here) stopping for gas and fluids before heading south.  Funny story, when we walked into the store there was a toothless (literally, he didn't have a tooth in his head) guy standing there greeting us.  He looked so comfortable we assumed he worked there - he didn't, he was just standing at the entrance creeping people out for free.

Ah, before I forget, Garrett took off his helmet once we left Junction and rode with his freshly shaven head exposed to the sun for something like 4 straight hours.  That was very, very, very funny.  Bill and I tried to mention things like skin care, sun burn,  and sun block,  but were rebuffed by Garrett's wisdom.  As the trip progressed, this would only become funnier.

Finally we arrived at our hotel - the Long Horn Ranch Motel.  http://www.terlinguatx.com/longhorn.html This was our first introduction to 'Study Butte' time, and it came a little as a shock to us.  Basically, things move slower here and people get to things when they get to them and if you don't like it you can just pack your suitcase and your attitude and head back to whatever big city you came from.  When we arrived the place looked deserted - because it was.  There was no one staying in the hotel save for us and the owner had gone to town and left a note on the door.  I am sure she gets this a lot, especially from city folk, but I was a little panicked.  I was exhausted and had no intention of going any farther without a shower and a good night's sleep.

The owner arrived about 30 minutes later and all was well.  We got our rooms and proceeded to unload and crash out.  Here is the main picture of the hotel itself.  As a sidebar, it was a simple place, clean and well managed.  If you are looking for high luxury you are in the wrong part of the country, but if you want a simple room and some peace and quiet you could do a lot worse. 

We went to Tivo's for dinner that night (and a couple of nights after that as well).  Tivo's is a clean, simple little mexican restauraunt run by a family - good stuff.  Other than that, I locked up my bike and I think we called it a night. If we did anything else I can't remember it.

On with Big Bend

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