Rides and Tales

Observations From Behind Bars

North of Eye Ten, Again

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(I’m tempted to remark on the town of Gonzalez, TX and alleged actions of its police chief who put that cradle of liberty in the national news with his antics and those of his gang, but I won’t.)

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My good brother, Curtis (mrider) and his lovely missus
have moved across I-10 and into America. That, in itself, is news. They also extended an invite to me and the sexy granny to party with the locals they were entertaining at their new digs in the country. We jumped at it.


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Friday, we crossed the super slab at Schulenburg . A friend suggested we stop at Swiss Alp, which is a few miles north of Schulenburg, and check out the the dance hall.

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Sure enough, the hall and cafe’ were closed early in the day, but we knew that was probable.

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I’m told the place has an interesting history, but I guess that will have to wait for another time. At any rate, I got a photo to prove to my Switzer friend that his words don’t fall on deaf ears.

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From there, we eased on down the road, through the curve at
La Grange, and onto the State Highway.

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We had directions that we followed till the pavement ended and we spotted genuine American biker folk art wind chimes that marked the entrance to the mriders’ spread.

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A beautiful and comfortable spread it is, too, with lots of room for the family dogs to romp and chase critters and for Mr. and Missus to stable their mounts and those of visiting dignitaries. I could tell right away I was in civilized company.

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Saturday, Curtis called in his crack barbecue team and they went to work preparing to feed the guests. They cooked a flock of chickens, a squadron of ribs and yards of sausage to go with all the other fixins Mrs mrider had whipped up.

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Now, where I live, folks throw horseshoes, and in the Hill Country I’ve seen more than one washer pit but the sport du jour in this locale was beanbag tossin’.

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Add a good sound system cranking out solid tunes, dogs and kids running around, plenty of cold drinks and you got yourself a party!

Jokes were told, ride tales exchanged and a good time was had by all.

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Sunday, we headed back to the third world relaxed and spiritually rejuvenated.

Not too far into the return trip I saw a vehicle I couldn’t identify, at first, on the shoulder of the road. As we neared, it turned out to be a motorcycle with Voyager Kit-type arrangement. The rider wasn’t having trouble but, rather,  was securing some cargo onto the outriggers in lieu of saddlebags.

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The wind picked up, the terrain flattened and our road began to run along bays and little bayous, then, we were crossing the Harbor Bridge spanning Corpus Christi Bay, 220 miles and a world away from the hidden mriders.

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Written by fiddle mike

October 28, 2008 at 5:27 am

Posted in motorcycle, photography, travel

Tagged with ,

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