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Arkansas: Squeaky's POV

Day 4: Missouri or Bust

Stinky and I had stopped off for some food on our way back into camp the night before, so it was bacon and eggs for us! The camp stove fired up like a charm as if it hadn’t been sitting unused for the past year and as the bacon sizzled we got the gear packed up and readied the loaded down bikes.

Bike after bike (and Busa after Busa) came roaring around the curve adjacent to the campground. Stinky said we were right on a wonderfully curvy section of 187 and that he’d show me on our way out.

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We both had an extra day to play, so we decided to head up to Missouri to get on the ferry (and break her little wings) since Stinky hadn’t gone that far north on previous trips.

My Chatterbox was giving off a high-pitched squeal when I tried to talk, and then it would go dead. The battery indicator showed full life and it was plugged into the bike, but we couldn’t get it worked out. I opted for just music for the rest of the trip.

When we pulled off for our first gas stop of the day, the GPS froze. Great. I tried sticking a safety pin in the only hole that could possibly be a reset, but it did nothing. Um… Yeah, electronics hate me.

Stinky has a GPS, but he didn’t have any of the routes loaded because he relies on others and is a follower on the road. Well, I knew we wanted to get on a road that gets straight on the ferry so we did a search in his Mio and it found three or four choices. Peel sounded familiar. I sure hope I’m right.

We headed out, him leading and me bopping along to my music behind him. We weren’t taking a very fast pace, which was fine with me. Other than turning and heading south at some point, there was nothing planned for today.

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We got to the ferry just as they were loading up – we got lucky. The last time I was here I had to wait almost an hour for it to return from the far bank and get us.

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It was a quick ride, and we were on the other side and on our way within minutes. Since my GPS was still frozen, I don’t have a track map for this section but it was a blast! Rolling lefts and rights in sequence – the tire marks from the motards we’d seen on the ferry were still fresh on the pavement.

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We stopped for a late lunch at McDonalds and I made a call to Becca “RocketBunny” to see if she knew the secret to shutting the Quest down when the power button wasn’t working. She gave me the secret combination of buttons and it worked!

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The motard riders were across the street at the gas station getting “talked to” by local law enforcement.

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Someone is starting to look a little sleepy.

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Just for kicks, we asked the GPS how far we were from home. I was much farther than Stinky was, but we decided we weren’t done with the fun yet. We could still afford some wandering time to scope out the land.

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I guess the late start had us deceived, because it started getting chilly and the sun was beginning to set. We decided Hot Springs was a reasonable destination for the night.

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At the next gas stop, we decided that tired eyes and bouts of body-shaking sneezes would not allow us to get as far as Hot Springs. Let’s settle for Little Rock.

Nope, we never made it to Little Rock. We pulled off the highway near Conway, AR and found a listing for Economy Inn on the GPS. All we need is a place to lay our heads and a safe place to park the bikes.

I was tired and already dreaming of my head hitting the pillow. I misjudged the driveway to enter the parking lot for the motel and hit the curb head-on. I was up on my pegs to absorb the shock of what I estimated to be an inch between the street and the driveway. Instead the bike took the blow of a five inch curb. All I know is I head BAM – SCRAPE and I was laying on the ground on my right. I might have closed my eyes.

I got up and stood with my back to the bike with a grip on the bars and the rear rack. I lifted it a few inches and heard metal scraping. I’d never tried to pick the bike up when it was fully loaded before, and it being over farther than horizontal wasn’t helping. The front tire was up on the curb and the back was in the street. This was all happening in oncoming traffic.

Stinky asked if I was ok, and after nodding my head he proceeded to laugh his butt off while blocking traffic with his bike and unhooking himself from his gadgetry. Why does it seem like my close calls, near misses, and crashes all end with someone laughing at me? I guess it’s better than someone crying over me.

A couple in a pickup pulled over next to us and he hopped out, “Hey dude, hold on, I got ya”. I realized my hands were shaking so I stepped off the street and onto the curb to unhook my helmet and take my gloves off. “Oh, uh… I’m sorry ma’am” was all the poor guy could muster, then some grunting as he tried to pick up the big pig; “this thing’s heavier than it looks”. Stinky chimed in with his usual heckling self, “She’s a chick, she packs too much”.

I thanked them for their help and reassured them I was Ok. All I’d hurt was my pride.

I looked over the bike and was amazed at how little damage there was. We got the bikes parked next to the entrance where the clerk said they would be lit and on camera all night, then unloaded them and threw all the gear in the room. There was spilled fluid on a few parts of the under-belly, but everything looked to be intact and it was running. Whew. Biwwy would NOT have liked to drive out here with a trailer for another Stom!

We walked next door to the Waffle House and had a few laughs over some breakfast goodies. It was now past 11 and tomorrow was looking to be a long day with a lot of slabbed miles to get home.

(ok, only one day to go...)
 
Too bad you didn't make Hot Springs. It's a neat little town.

Glad the spill didn't do any serious damage to you or machine.
 
The next morning, I woke up and walked across to the Starbucks I’d spotted on our way in the night before. Hmm, could I have been dreaming of a white chocolate mocha when I bumped the curb? I sure hope not…

There was a bike parked in the lot, and its rider was inside reading the morning paper while sipping his morning nectar from a cardboard cup. I ordered up drinks and sweets for breakfast and brought them back to enjoy while photographing the damage in sunlight and loading the bike back up for the long ride home.

I wonder if having my bash plate installed would have helped get me over the bump or if it would have made me bottom out sooner?

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The lower point on the enginge guards

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The higher point on the guards. The weld Biwwy did for me at the Arlington Tech Day held. Awesome handiwork, Bill! (Yes, that’s rust. I never painted it. I’ll do it soon I promise.)

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This bike is tough. The brake pedal got pushed into the case cover and gouged it but it still works perfectly. I’m not going to try to bend it out unless it starts to interfere with something.

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Despite the stains on both blacktop and concrete, I was surprised to see my oil level still doing well. (And yes, it’s clean oil – changed it out in Arlington the night I got to Bill’s)

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We figured out it was mostly coolant and/or gas since we were close to full and my coolant reservoir was bone dry. We managed to get the bite valve of the camelbak down into the space to get it back up to a decent level. I’ll have to flush the system, which was needed since I’m due for a valve check/job.

The engine guard did it’s job, but it also got tweaked a bit. Sits closer to the plastic which probably means certain death to my side fairing the next time it goes down. I’ll see if Bill thinks it can be pulled.

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The heat guard is likely the cause of the damage to the concrete.

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The mounting bolt from the ammo cans pushed into the exhaust shield a bit, but shouldn’t have hit the exhaust itself. I don’t mind scars like this. I earned them.

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This tire has to get me home from Conway, AR.

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And now it looks like rain. Yippee. (can you sense the sarcasm?)

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Stop smiling. It’s not funny. Nice tank bag cover.

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Ok, maybe it’s a little bit funny.

By the time we got dried out from the short storm that drenched us, we were both getting hungry for lunch. We happened on a small town with nothing open on a Monday other than Pizza Hut – Prescott, AR.

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Bellies full and helmet belching under way, we were rolling through Texarkana and down 59. I would be on this until I was home, but Stinky had to head west. We stopped for gas and goodbyes in Marshall and he peeled off for I20 into Dallas.

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I continued down 59 and managed to fall in behind a truck and empty trailer that were going just a clip above the limit and would act as a deer and radar blocker. Not sure why, but he didn’t like that idea and deliberately tried push me off on another car. He got behind me for a while but after the car took its exit I slowed and got back behind the truck. I can’t help it if my low beams are bright – I can’t afford to hit a deer out here!

I stopped again in New Caney to stretch, top off the tank, and grab a coffee. I happened to catch an incoming call from my sister, so we spent a little while talking while I sat on the curb taking a good, long break. I love riding in small groups, but this is one of the big benefits of riding solo – stop when you want, where you want, and for however long you want. The only person you’re delaying getting home is you.

I hit some light showers on my way back into Houston and pulled up to the house shortly before midnight. I was tired, both mentally and physically. I took the tankbag off the bike and let the rest stay where it was for the night.

I don’t have an accurate account of the mileage because of my little GPS glitch, but hopefully Stinky will be able to pull some data out of the Mio for moi and I can get a grand total.
 
The next morning, I woke up and walked across to the Starbucks I’d spotted on our way in the night before. Hmm, could I have been dreaming of a white chocolate mocha when I bumped the curb? I sure hope not…

There was a bike parked in the lot, and its rider was inside reading the morning paper while sipping his morning nectar from a cardboard cup. I ordered up drinks and sweets for breakfast and brought them back to enjoy while photographing the damage in sunlight and loading the bike back up for the long ride home.

I wonder if having my bash plate installed would have helped get me over the bump or if it would have made me bottom out sooner?

155282449-M.jpg


155282484-M.jpg


The lower point on the enginge guards

155282486-M.jpg


The higher point on the guards. The weld Biwwy did for me at the Arlington Tech Day held. Awesome handiwork, Bill! (Yes, that’s rust. I never painted it. I’ll do it soon I promise.)

155282504-M.jpg


This bike is tough. The brake pedal got pushed into the case cover and gouged it but it still works perfectly. I’m not going to try to bend it out unless it starts to interfere with something.

155282519-M.jpg


Despite the stains on both blacktop and concrete, I was surprised to see my oil level still doing well. (And yes, it’s clean oil – changed it out in Arlington the night I got to Bill’s)

155282522-M.jpg


We figured out it was mostly coolant and/or gas since we were close to full and my coolant reservoir was bone dry. We managed to get the bite valve of the camelbak down into the space to get it back up to a decent level. I’ll have to flush the system, which was needed since I’m due for a valve check/job.

The engine guard did it’s job, but it also got tweaked a bit. Sits closer to the plastic which probably means certain death to my side fairing the next time it goes down. I’ll see if Bill thinks it can be pulled.

155282553-M.jpg


The heat guard is likely the cause of the damage to the concrete.

155282574-M.jpg


The mounting bolt from the ammo cans pushed into the exhaust shield a bit, but shouldn’t have hit the exhaust itself. I don’t mind scars like this. I earned them.

155282585-M.jpg


This tire has to get me home from Conway, AR.

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And now it looks like rain. Yippee. (can you sense the sarcasm?)

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Stop smiling. It’s not funny. Nice tank bag cover.

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Ok, maybe it’s a little bit funny.

By the time we got dried out from the short storm that drenched us, we were both getting hungry for lunch. We happened on a small town with nothing open on a Monday other than Pizza Hut – Prescott, AR.

155281023-M.jpg


Bellies full and helmet belching under way, we were rolling through Texarkana and down 59. I would be on this until I was home, but Stinky had to head west. We stopped for gas and goodbyes in Marshall and he peeled off for I20 into Dallas.

156721428-M.jpg


I continued down 59 and managed to fall in behind a truck and empty trailer that were going just a clip above the limit and would act as a deer and radar blocker. Not sure why, but he didn’t like that idea and deliberately tried push me off on another car. He got behind me for a while but after the car took its exit I slowed and got back behind the truck. I can’t help it if my low beams are bright – I can’t afford to hit a deer out here!

I stopped again in New Caney to stretch, top off the tank, and grab a coffee. I happened to catch an incoming call from my sister, so we spent a little while talking while I sat on the curb taking a good, long break. I love riding in small groups, but this is one of the big benefits of riding solo – stop when you want, where you want, and for however long you want. The only person you’re delaying getting home is you.

I hit some light showers on my way back into Houston and pulled up to the house shortly before midnight. I was tired, both mentally and physically. I took the tankbag off the bike and let the rest stay where it was for the night.

I don’t have an accurate account of the mileage because of my little GPS glitch, but hopefully Stinky will be able to pull some data out of the Mio for moi and I can get a grand total.

Sigh... It was so pristine when she bought it....:rolleyes:

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The next morning, I woke up and walked across to the Starbucks I’d spotted on our way in the night before.

This bike is tough. The brake pedal got pushed into the case cover and gouged it but it still works perfectly. I’m not going to try to bend it out unless it starts to interfere with something.

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I don’t have an accurate account of the mileage because of my little GPS glitch, but hopefully Stinky will be able to pull some data out of the Mio for moi and I can get a grand total.

:clap: Thank you, Rebecca, for the great story. You are quite the road warrior. A gal every guy motorcyclist dreams about. You are a gal who has rides her own bike and can tie her own shoes.:rider: :clap:

I am a little concerned about the break pedal, though. Make sure the breaks are fully releasing so the pads are not resting on the rotor when the breaks are not being applied.

:sun:
 
I just don't know how we're going to get all three of us on a bike at once... :trust:

LOL!!! You can ride with me... you can be MY second wife... and since my first wife don't ride, I have plenty of room :trust:

As usual, great write up and pics! :clap: Oh, I guess we are going to have to name you Tumblelina after you're curb deal :lol2:
 
Trailering a bike, whatever.
I'm sure you had a GOOD excuse. :doh:


Not everyone's mom and dad will come get them when they have bike problems. Sounds like a good enough reason to have a trailer if ya ask me!
 
Not everyone's mom and dad will come get them when they have bike problems. Sounds like a good enough reason to have a trailer if ya ask me!

That's exactly why I'll be trailering from now on. But since we all know how reliable BMW's are I guess they don't really need to prepare for that kind of stuff......:rofl:
 
Trailer's are for mutiple day rides in places that require travel on boring interstates for hundreds of miles just to get to the start point.

Trailer's are not for Pie Runs (where the destination IS the ride).

Trailer's are great when leaving after work and arriving very late.

Trailer's are best when the winds are howling and the sky is falling and the other riders are soaked to the skin and you're passing them by in the comfort of your truck (while eating Krispy Kreme donuts and listening to tunes on the radio)... :nana:
 
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