Georgia to Oklahoma

I left the Relax Inn at a little after 5:00 in the morning and pulled on to 75 northbound. It was cool, but not uncomfortably so. There was a light mist in the air. If the temperature is right, a little mist feels nice on the bike. It was perfect this morning.

My goal for today was Oklahoma. That was a little more than 700 miles without detours, but there are always detours. That’s the whole point of these trips.
I opened the bike up and thirty minutes later I was passing Chattanooga. I had the bike serviced a few weeks ago, and it’s never really felt the same since. It has almost no power in the upper gears and I think it has an exhaust leak. The guys at the shop couldn’t find anything wrong with it besides it’s a 955 Tiger which they claim is a dog. Whatever the case, I cruise across Tennessee at 90.

After my 3rd fuel stop, I’m starting worry about mileage. I had hoped for 45 miles per gallon, but it’s looking like 33; not much better than most cars, and they have AC. I know what it is, though, running at 90, the bike is sucking fuel. When I back it down to 70 it does much better, but I’m set on making it to Oklahoma today so I live with 32 miles per gallon.

I stick to the Interstates and fly across Tennessee. I spent several days crisscrossing this state years ago. I don’t need to see it again. Gliding through Memphis, I cross the Mississippi. I’m officially in the west now.
The delta portion of Arkansas is all about agriculture. Everywhere I look fields are full of corn and cotton. The corn is already dry and brown. It was about the same time of year when I made this trek the last time and I remember the corn differently. This either went in the ground earlier or it’s victim of the merciless heat that’s gripped the area all summer. The temperature has to be nearing 100 as I near Little Rock.

Focused like an aspergers savant, I stay on 40 until I see signs for the “Scenic 7 Ozark Byway”. I’m a sucker for scenic byways, and up until today, I’d never really been through the Ozarks. I mean, I’ve crisscrossed Missouri, and I’ve been through Arkansas before, but I never took the time to see the rolling hills that Rawls wrote about in Where the Red Fern Grows (my favorite childhood book).

I pick-up the “Scenic 7” about 80 miles west of Little Rock and head to a town called Harrison near the Missouri border. It’s a nice enough ride, but I’m underwhelmed. It seems every few miles there are big yellow signs warning about steep and crooked roads, but nothing really lives up to their advertising. The detour costs me three hours. I continue on to Springdale Arkansas. I check out a couple budget places, but they don’t live up to my ever declining standards, and I decide to break the budget and check into a real chain “The Sleep Inn”. It’s after 9:00pm (really 10:00pm because I’ve crossed time zones), I’ve been riding for 17 hours. It’s the happiest I’ve been checking into a hotel alone in my life.