YeeHawww!! Branson!

I had a good week and a couple of days working in Baton Rouge and before I knew it, I was driving up to Shreveport for another week. The upside was.....well, being at home every day for a week and a half then being close enough in Shreveport to drive home for the weekend and also to spend a night with my Mama.

Sheveport was barely an image in my rear view mirror when I got the call to go to Branson, Missouri. Hearing the circumstances, I began to figure I'd be hanging out here for maybe a couple of months in the mountain air (people in the western states will scoff at that) free from the stress that had been haunting me in a couple of the last assignments.

It has been probably 20 years since we've been here in what has described as a cross between Mayberry and Las Vegas. Staying on the western end of the strip, traffic is still nuts as you attempt to cruise from one end to the other. Now there are a couple of bypasses that you can take if you truly need to get around.

Branson's oldest attractions have been the outdoor drama, Shepherd of the Hills, the theme park Silver Dollar City and some old time musical and comedy acts like The Presleys and The Baldknobbers. Over the years "name" people like Mel Tillis, Micky Gilly and other country entertainers have turned the place into quite attraction. It seems now that if an artist ever had a following in the entertainment business, Branson is the next stop before completely giving it up. Others like Shoji Tabuchi have created their own following after a leg up from Roy Acuff who had met him in Japan. Acuff told Shoji that if he was ever in the US, to look him up. Eventually, Shoji showed up and Acuff accepted him and put him on the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville a few times. Tabuchi gambled on Branson and opened a theater and became a local hit.

The place is largely patronized by retirees or at least those over fifty. Bikers traveling through on 3 wheeled Honda trikes remind you of the Dead End Gang. Nothing emphasizes it more than the Hampton Inn's breakfast bar featuring a large container of Activia Yogurt. Activia has a stronger reputation than prunes. Don't ask me how I know this.

Unfortunately, I had only been here a day before finding out the situation was in the process of resolving itself and now find myself looking for a plane ride out of here. I won't be eating the Activia before I fly. On the fortunate side, I was able to break bread and spend a little time with an old friend and his lovely wife over in Shell Knobb. It's all good.

Wild Bores

Back in March, my friend Lewis and I had been planning hooking up with a pair of his buds from Alabama for a "Wild Hogs" weekend. Our original plans called for us to meet Frank and Jim in Mobile and take a motorcycle run over into Florida. However, after reviewing weather conditions and the fact that spring break would unleash 30 or 40 thousand college students onto the beaches and highways of Florida called for a change of plans. New plans would call for us meeting up in Biloxi and somehow figure out where or what we wanted to do for the following 3 days. Bear in mind, it was supposed to be very warm, temperatures were still in the 40s, 50s and 60s, so full leather for that much wind was welcome.

Lewis and I met up in Denham Springs and after donating $20 to the saddest tale I've ever heard from a panhandler, we struck a pace east toward Biloxi. Avoiding the interstate as much as was reasonable, we hit old Hwy 90 on the Mississippi gulf coast. Even though recovery from Hurricane Katrina had been ongoing for 4 years, evidence of destruction was still there. Stopping off in for lunch, we encountered a "Picker" much like the episodes on the History Channel where people roved around the country buying oddities for resale. The one we met was driving an old hearse with everything from paintings to handmade toys.

Meeting Frank and Jim from Alabama, we hit the rack early before even firming up what we'd do for Friday through Sunday. The next morning at breakfast, the best we could do was come up with an obvious direction. They didn't want to go back north, spring break was going on in Florida so riding westish was pretty much the only choice.

Thursday morning found us riding old Hwy 90 west toward New Orleans through the Rigolets before getting into New Orleans east where we found ourselves in a major traffic jam due to some kind of accident on I-10. Since it was near noon, we thought maybe lunch at Mother's on Poydras at Tchoupitoulas. Bad idea! Patrons were lined up outside half the length of the building on the Poydras side and a place to park, even for 4 Harley-Davidsons, were not to be found.

Not wanting to wait, we rode across the bridge to the west bank, stopped for poboys at a combo seafood store and deli. It was a curious experience for the boys from Alabama to be eating seafood sandwiches close enough to hear the fish flopping behind the counters.

Anyway, after that we mounted up and rode to Raceland, we cut south along Bayou Lafourche to Grand Isle. By the time we had a short visit there, the sun was getting lower so not wanting to find a place to sleep that involved gravel or creeping things, we rode on up to Houma, getting lost in the process and arrived after it was well dark.

Saturday, with an early start, we headed northwest through Morgan City, stopping at Frank's favorite restaurant in Jeanerette. You want find Lil's listed as a Zagat's favorite but since Frank, Jim and Lewis had been there before, Lil welcomed us with open arms.

Our next destination was Lewis' home near St Francisville by the way of Lafayette, Opelousas, down Highway 90 to the old bridge at Baton Rouge, then north. After arriving at Lewis', I dismissed myself to ride home another 65 miles for the night. The next morning, with Ms Darlene seated firmly on the back of Boudreaux, we headed north again to meet Lewis and Jan. By that time, Jim and Frank had loaded up and were on their 500 mile ride back to northern Alabama.

On the two bikes, Lewis, Jan, Darlene and I rode up to Natchez for lunch at Natchez Under The Hill. After riding around some through the old town, we were ready to get home and finally off the bikes. By the time we split up with Jan and Lewis and rode on home, I had put over 1,000 miles on Boudreaux. The guys from Alabama probably had at least 1,800 on theirs. It was a great four day weekend.