Got a late start out of San Antonio, but made up some time on Hwy 16 toward Medina. Passed by a group of three riders that “took one for the team” by distracting the local LEO on the side of the road for us. I recognized the red Ducati (white racing stripe on the tank) but I don’t think they made it over to the Orchards for pie.
Pulled up to what we’ll consider a parking lot about ten minutes after 11, so it wasn’t too bad.
The Love Creek Orchard has EVERYTHING apple you can imagine – apple trees, apple signs, apple food, drink, gifts, goodies, and more. I think even the cat is named Apple!
I was immediately reminded that I had arrived late – but only ten minutes! Come on guys – give me a break – I’d been out by the bikes greeting other riders for at least five minutes already… yeah, and... um...
Lots of friendly folks reminded me that we'd met at a prior event, but I knew at least half the crowd. Long-timers like txmedic and leeroy, as well as lots of familiar talkatives like Gilk51, Texas Shadow, WCZimmerman et al. Scooters, sport bikes, dual sports, cruisers, and any and every combination were represented at this Pie Run.
I'm always drawn to the kids – Cassie and Savannah were here with their Pie Parents and Andy “SVinAustin-turned-VFRinAustin” brought Connor. He’s gotten so big since I saw him last!
The food was great – and with as large a group as we are, separate named tickets and the “pay as you leave” policy worked out quite well. I had the turkey club with chips and a large iced tea.
While waiting for my order, Scott “M38A1, I look younger than I post” asked if those 33x’s were around here somewhere… Um, you’re coming with us! Judd “Kidder, yeah I’m wearing knee pucks on a Strom” had planned a nice long route through some of the best hill country roads available, and we were going to follow his lead. Alejo “Don_Alejo, no my name isn’t Don” and John “jka134, I don’t need no stinking Dual Sport to keep up with you kids” came along and we set out towards the west.
As usual, I left the camera holstered during the best sections of riding because my hands were too busy gliding through the hills and valleys, pushing and pulling on the bars with less effort than I can recall running through here in the past.
As we reached Camp Wood, I was reminded of my poor fuel consumption on the 1k compared to the Wee Stroms and that I hadn’t refueled after lunch with the Beemer and Kawi. I pulled into the corner station, filled up, then rolled into what little bit of Shade I could find for a break.
Dismounted and de-geared, I heard my phone ring in my tank bag. It was a local number to home – and I considered screening because I was in vacation mode and didn’t want to be bothered. For whatever reason, I answered.
It was Joyce “Joyrider, I’m a Lady Rider with a Mean Streak” telling me she’d crashed the bike. She was Ok, but shaken. Keith “Keith, I don’t make fancy forum names” was looking over the bike to determine the extent of the damage. They were on 337, only 25 miles back from us – Alejo and I sent the others on ahead and turned back to see what we could do to help.
It just so happened we HAD to run the same amazing section of 337 what we’d already run through. DARN! Granted, I was taking it just a tad bit slower since I had no rabbit to chase (Judd worked wonders before we split off) and I was now worried about Joyce.
Pulling over onto the shoulder at the scene, I dismounted and gave her a big hug – she needed it. She looked fine, but as she told the story it was clear her mind was still racing a bit over what had happened. They’d managed to get help from some passing riders getting the bike out of the roadway and Joyce took inventory of what hurt, which wasn’t much. She’s a real trooper, and I’ll let her fill in the rest of the incident details.
If there were a tree of shame in the hill country, she would have added her windshield and front fender to the ornamentation.
After straightening and tightening the necessary bits, we were all rolling again back to Medina. As luck would have it, the skies began to open up (rain, not snow – although it was forecasted at a 10% chance of flurries!) and before we could even find a safe place to pull over we were soaked. Well, except Alejo – apparently the cow that they’d made his perf’d leathers out of was waterproof. LOL
Joyce was certain she’d be able to make it home (albeit slowly) so she and Keith topped off their tanks in Medina and we bid them adieu. Since I hadn’t actually gotten any pie at lunch, I led Alejo a few hundred yards down the road back to Love Creek for strudel and coffee.
We had the place to ourselves, and it was and odd feeling compared to the hustle and bustle that accompanied the hungry, wandering pie runners just a few short hours prior. The brooms came out and the proprietor gave us the news that they were closing, as it was now after 5pm. Wow, where had the day gone? I donned my rain suit (with a little help) and we rejoined John and his ever-classic Connie for the ride back to San Antonio.
No, it didn’t rain another drop after I put the sauna suit on…