Welcome to the Two Wheeled Texans community! 
Feel free to hang out and lurk as long as you like. However, we would like to encourage you to 
I left the house on the V-Strom about 1 PM, gassed up and headed for Sabine Pass, taking the scenic route down West Port Arthur Road. I rolled through Sabine Pass about 1:45 or so, didn’t stop to take pictures of the devastation which is still evident from the hurricane 3 months ago. Passed Sea Rim State Park, it was closed. Passed the big sign for McFaddin Wildlife Refuge, the pavement stopped shortly afterwards. I passed a bunch of people riding horses, then for the next 10 miles, didn’t see anyone. The road quickly turned into a 2-track sandy, loose trail, usually about 30-40 yards from the water’s edge.
I was fighting the front-heavy V-Strom the whole way, riding in 1st or 2nd gear, usually below 20 MPH. The sand would be a little more packed, so I’d pick up a little speed and shift to 2nd, then I’d come to a loose section and have to slow down again. At about the 10 mile mark, I met a couple hunting for shells. Stopped to talk for just a second (“I know you didn’t ride that thing from Sabine Pass?”), then rolled on again. I started seeing really big hoof prints, and it didn’t look like a horse, because there was no shoe print. I stopped and took a couple of pics of the bike and the scenery, such as it was.
Sometimes the sandy path was inland from the remnants of the old paved road, sometimes the old road was actually out in the water. The first time I stopped, there were a few mosquitoes, which started me thinking, “What the **** do these mosquitoes eat out here?” I stopped again and there were a lot more mosquitoes and they were more aggressive. I stopped a third time when I came across the bull that was making the colossal hoof prints. He stood his ground for a while, then finally turned and ran away from me. I was worried that he would whirl around in front of me because there wasn’t anywhere for him to get away. He was trapped between the water on one side and a wire fence on the other side. We ran along together for a while, then the beach widened out and I gave it the gas and got by him. We both were relieved.
Then things got interesting. I passed a guy standing behind a pickup truck alongside the trail. I looked back in the mirror, yup he was nekkid. About another 100 yards along, I passed a guy wearing a bikini bottom and a halter top, both in pink. He was sitting next to his jeep and had a little campfire going. I didn’t stop to chat. Passed several more trucks and jeeps the next mile or so, but didn’t see any more weird sights. Then as I was coming up on another pickup truck, the driver stuck his hand out the window and flagged me down. I stopped and killed the engine, he did the same. I got the same “You didn’t ride that thing from Sabine Pass?” question, then he proceeded to tell me his story.
I’ve read somewhere that a single biker is very non-threatening, and that you have more interesting interactions with the locals because they’re put at ease. I’ve seen this happen before on several occasions, and the results can be good or bad. Anyway, the guy says he was down here with his wife and parents-in-law at a beach cabin, and he wanted to get away for a while, so he came down the beach to fish away from the crowds. He had his poles set up and was sitting in a chair when another truck comes and parks next to him and a young couple get out. They say hi, and then ask if he’d mind if they take off their clothes. He says no, so they do. (I’ll switch to him being the first person now.)
Anyway, the girl was a knockout. (Why do these things never happen to me?) The guy says he’s going to take a nap, but would he keep an eye on his friend and wake him up if the sheriff comes by, or anybody starts any trouble. I said ok, then he proceeds to conk out for about an hour. I mean he's passed out, drooling out the side of his mouth. Meanwhile, the girl starts prancing around enjoying herself. [Inappropriate content removed]. Anyway, she was real friendly and talked me into taking my shorts off too. Hey, you know what, I enjoyed it! I just hope I didn’t get a sunburn on my ***. I tried to check it in the rearview mirror of my truck, but it’s hard to tell with the sun casting shadows and all. ****, what am I going to tell my wife?
Anyway, the guy wakes up from his nap, and I figure they’d like some privacy, so I put my shorts back on, took my fishing poles, and moved about 200 yards down the beach. They moved towards me about a hundred yards, then proceeded to put on a show. You know, people would pay money to see that kind of stuff. Not me, but you know what I mean? Now, it was all tasteful, but anyhow. After that, they said good by and drove off, and then my heart finally got slowed down, so I decided I better get on back. Say, would you look at my *** and see if it looks sunburned?
(At that point, I informed him that if he opened his truck door, I was gone. Switching back to me being the first person.) Then he noticed my Texas t-shirt, so we talked about football, but he kept coming back to what was he going to tell his wife, hope he didn’t have to get naked with her tonight, maybe he could take her out for a long dinner and then she’d be too tired tonight. The conversation was dying down, it had probably been over 20 minutes, with me mostly listening, so I said I better get moving again. He said, "Hey, if I ever see you again, I never seen you before." To which I replied, "What happens at McFaddin stays at McFaddin."
The last few miles back to pavement were fairly uneventful. I hit pavement again about 18 to 19 miles after leaving it at Sea Rim, and came out at the intersection of hiways 87 and 124. The guy with the pink outfit on had passed me back on the beach, and he stopped at the corner and pretended to fiddle with his soft top (on the jeep you pervert) so he could show off his outfit again. I gassed it and stopped at the first convenience store in High Island for a little snack and to give the weirdoes time to drive on by.
Well, that’s the end of the interesting parts. I took the scenic route back home and the only excitement was when I was going about 80 down Burrell Wingate Road when I had a feeling I had better slow down. I passed my brother-in-law’s house, then passed 2 sheriff patrol cars pulled into someone’s driveway. I was probably only going 55 in a 40 zone at that point, but they had some other business going on.
Ride Statistics:
Mileage: about 135 miles
Average Speed: about 30 MPH including stops
Average speed off-pavement: 15-20 MPH not counting stops
Miles per gallon: 40
Number of people who asked, “You didn’t ride that thing from Sabine Pass?”: 2
Percent of people I talked with who asked, “You didn’t ride that thing from Sabine Pass?”: 100%
Number of times I wish I had brought the DRZ: maybe 30, about 3 times per mile off-pavement
Number of times I stood on the pegs like a Dakar racer: 4
Average distance I stood on the pegs like a Dakar racer: 50 yards
Number of times I almost lost the front end: maybe 20
Number of times I was sure I was going down: about 5
Number of times I said to myself “Trust the force, Luke.”: about 12
Number of times I actually dropped the bike: Sorry, none.
Number of confirmed nudists I saw: 2
Number of suspected nudists I saw: about 8 or so
I was fighting the front-heavy V-Strom the whole way, riding in 1st or 2nd gear, usually below 20 MPH. The sand would be a little more packed, so I’d pick up a little speed and shift to 2nd, then I’d come to a loose section and have to slow down again. At about the 10 mile mark, I met a couple hunting for shells. Stopped to talk for just a second (“I know you didn’t ride that thing from Sabine Pass?”), then rolled on again. I started seeing really big hoof prints, and it didn’t look like a horse, because there was no shoe print. I stopped and took a couple of pics of the bike and the scenery, such as it was.
Sometimes the sandy path was inland from the remnants of the old paved road, sometimes the old road was actually out in the water. The first time I stopped, there were a few mosquitoes, which started me thinking, “What the **** do these mosquitoes eat out here?” I stopped again and there were a lot more mosquitoes and they were more aggressive. I stopped a third time when I came across the bull that was making the colossal hoof prints. He stood his ground for a while, then finally turned and ran away from me. I was worried that he would whirl around in front of me because there wasn’t anywhere for him to get away. He was trapped between the water on one side and a wire fence on the other side. We ran along together for a while, then the beach widened out and I gave it the gas and got by him. We both were relieved.
Then things got interesting. I passed a guy standing behind a pickup truck alongside the trail. I looked back in the mirror, yup he was nekkid. About another 100 yards along, I passed a guy wearing a bikini bottom and a halter top, both in pink. He was sitting next to his jeep and had a little campfire going. I didn’t stop to chat. Passed several more trucks and jeeps the next mile or so, but didn’t see any more weird sights. Then as I was coming up on another pickup truck, the driver stuck his hand out the window and flagged me down. I stopped and killed the engine, he did the same. I got the same “You didn’t ride that thing from Sabine Pass?” question, then he proceeded to tell me his story.
I’ve read somewhere that a single biker is very non-threatening, and that you have more interesting interactions with the locals because they’re put at ease. I’ve seen this happen before on several occasions, and the results can be good or bad. Anyway, the guy says he was down here with his wife and parents-in-law at a beach cabin, and he wanted to get away for a while, so he came down the beach to fish away from the crowds. He had his poles set up and was sitting in a chair when another truck comes and parks next to him and a young couple get out. They say hi, and then ask if he’d mind if they take off their clothes. He says no, so they do. (I’ll switch to him being the first person now.)
Anyway, the girl was a knockout. (Why do these things never happen to me?) The guy says he’s going to take a nap, but would he keep an eye on his friend and wake him up if the sheriff comes by, or anybody starts any trouble. I said ok, then he proceeds to conk out for about an hour. I mean he's passed out, drooling out the side of his mouth. Meanwhile, the girl starts prancing around enjoying herself. [Inappropriate content removed]. Anyway, she was real friendly and talked me into taking my shorts off too. Hey, you know what, I enjoyed it! I just hope I didn’t get a sunburn on my ***. I tried to check it in the rearview mirror of my truck, but it’s hard to tell with the sun casting shadows and all. ****, what am I going to tell my wife?
Anyway, the guy wakes up from his nap, and I figure they’d like some privacy, so I put my shorts back on, took my fishing poles, and moved about 200 yards down the beach. They moved towards me about a hundred yards, then proceeded to put on a show. You know, people would pay money to see that kind of stuff. Not me, but you know what I mean? Now, it was all tasteful, but anyhow. After that, they said good by and drove off, and then my heart finally got slowed down, so I decided I better get on back. Say, would you look at my *** and see if it looks sunburned?
(At that point, I informed him that if he opened his truck door, I was gone. Switching back to me being the first person.) Then he noticed my Texas t-shirt, so we talked about football, but he kept coming back to what was he going to tell his wife, hope he didn’t have to get naked with her tonight, maybe he could take her out for a long dinner and then she’d be too tired tonight. The conversation was dying down, it had probably been over 20 minutes, with me mostly listening, so I said I better get moving again. He said, "Hey, if I ever see you again, I never seen you before." To which I replied, "What happens at McFaddin stays at McFaddin."
The last few miles back to pavement were fairly uneventful. I hit pavement again about 18 to 19 miles after leaving it at Sea Rim, and came out at the intersection of hiways 87 and 124. The guy with the pink outfit on had passed me back on the beach, and he stopped at the corner and pretended to fiddle with his soft top (on the jeep you pervert) so he could show off his outfit again. I gassed it and stopped at the first convenience store in High Island for a little snack and to give the weirdoes time to drive on by.
Well, that’s the end of the interesting parts. I took the scenic route back home and the only excitement was when I was going about 80 down Burrell Wingate Road when I had a feeling I had better slow down. I passed my brother-in-law’s house, then passed 2 sheriff patrol cars pulled into someone’s driveway. I was probably only going 55 in a 40 zone at that point, but they had some other business going on.
Ride Statistics:
Mileage: about 135 miles
Average Speed: about 30 MPH including stops
Average speed off-pavement: 15-20 MPH not counting stops
Miles per gallon: 40
Number of people who asked, “You didn’t ride that thing from Sabine Pass?”: 2
Percent of people I talked with who asked, “You didn’t ride that thing from Sabine Pass?”: 100%
Number of times I wish I had brought the DRZ: maybe 30, about 3 times per mile off-pavement
Number of times I stood on the pegs like a Dakar racer: 4
Average distance I stood on the pegs like a Dakar racer: 50 yards
Number of times I almost lost the front end: maybe 20
Number of times I was sure I was going down: about 5
Number of times I said to myself “Trust the force, Luke.”: about 12
Number of times I actually dropped the bike: Sorry, none.
Number of confirmed nudists I saw: 2
Number of suspected nudists I saw: about 8 or so
Last edited by a moderator:
. If you can hang on for about one hour then they thin out to where their just an annoyance.
