Feb/Mar 2010 Louisiana MSTA Newsletter Page 1

Turn One

Riding season has arrived in the deep south and we already have a couple of events and a couple of lunch rides under our belts. We have been pretty lucky with the weather this unseasonably cold winter in that we have been mostly able to avoid the rain. A favorite saying of many motorcyclists I know is "I can tolerate the cold and I can tolerate the wet but cold AND wet just plain SUCKS!" Or something like that... More and more of our members now own electric heated gear and this has been put to good use this winter!

In between MSTA activities I had the pleasure of leading a group, ride organized by Moto Rouge, through the Felicianas and adjoining Mississippi counties. Moto Rouge is the Baton Rouge Piaggio dealer (Vespa, Aprilia and Moto Guzzi). It was quite a hoot running around the local twisties with an RSV4, Mana and MV Agusta F4 in my mirrors (also an R1, 636 Ninja and a Vespa 200!). Co-owners Ed and Kurt love to ride and are great guys. If you are in the market for some Italian machinery check out Moto Rouge.

This month's newsletter includes ride reports on Ride the Rio by Dave Dickson and Fun in the Sun by yours truly plus accounts of our Louisiana lunch ride for February. MSTA is truly full of fasinating characters and great story tellers but for my money, nobody does a rally OR a story quite like Dave and our own Crescent City Connection, enjoy. Our Louisiana STAR registrations now stand at 11, that's 48% of our total membership! It is quality, not quantity that counts, I always say! We are going to have a great time in Taos. If you have never been to a STAR, I highly recommend it. Also, plan to join us for our regular monthly lunch ride as well. We are always looking for good roads and good food, if you have ideas for a lunch ride of your own, don't hesitate to contact me.


Ride the Rio

By Dave Dickson
Feb. 2010

The first MSTA, Motorcycle Sport Touring Association, event of the year was upon us. My usual riding buddy, Dennis, my friend the Moto Guzzi lover, Larry and I waited for the UPS truck Wednesday evening. At sunset, it arrived with Larry's Michelin Pilot Road 2 back tire. Dennis and I had already mounted fresh rubber on our BMW's earlier in the week.

Dennis is a well informed, thinking-man rider. He introduced me to David Hough's Proficient Motorcycling and subsequent riding bibles. He has been to many track days. His irrepressibly happy and enthusiastic attitude has made our many trips together a pleasure. Dennis is always ready to go, impatiently so sometimes. I trust his riding sense and ability and we have ridden over 60,000 miles through 25 states together. His dry humor is witty and pithy. He can get fired up though and I am the one who smoozes the traffic cops. I can look very remorseful.

Larry is Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, droll and cynical on his outlook on life. Larry hopes for happiness and expects rain. Larry reads and adsorbs a lot of knowledge and is virtually a walking encyclopedia of motorcycle knowledge and trivia. Dennis hates Interstate riding. Larry hates Harleys. I like Harleys and I have thought about adding a cruiser as a second bike. I am not fond of blasting down Interstates but they serve to get to the good riding areas as quick as possible. We all laugh easily and often.

Larry is on a black Suzuki SV1000 now. His beloved Breva 750 Moto Guzzi is in the transmission hospital. Changing tires on our single-sided drive shaft BMWs is routine for Dennis and me now. I am on the 13th back tire and 8th front, Dennis is about the same. Our No-Mar machine has paid for itself many times now. Changing Larry's tire was no treat, more like a chore, except chores are more fun.

See sidebar on changing rear tires on chain driven bikes.

Thursday AM

"Damn it"! "I can't do this" I hollered with frustration inside my helmet. With the layers I put on, I had trouble bending my arms enough to thread the chin strap through the "D" rings on my full-faced helmet. Long underwear, long sleeved t-shirt, Gerbings jacket liner, lined Joe Rocket leather jacket were enough layers, or let me say, the necessary layers for this long distance haul through some cooler than average winter weather. The sounds of my leathers creaking and groaning, like I was on horseback in a western saddle, came through the helmet and earplugs as I mounted up. Gloves on, face shield snapped down and I was ready. These sounds would soon be replaced by the cold air rushing over the short windscreen on my blue and silver BMW K1200R Sport.

Our long distance trip 'norm' is to travel for several hours from New Orleans then stop for a mid-morning hearty breakfast, skip lunch and eat dinner early. Our first stop was 130 miles west on I-10 in Lafayette, Louisiana, at our trusted and very American, Waffle House. Two eggs over medium, patty sausage, grits and coffee, ah yes, the warm cup felt damn good. Even Larry, who doesn't normally drink coffee, had a hand warming cup of old joe. The morning air was very cold with a low of 37*F. Dennis and I have heated grips. All of us wear the literally life saving electrically heated vests or jacket liners. My palms were cooking and my knuckles were painfully cold. Larry was miserable without heated gloves or heated grips. Larry suffers quietly; he expects it and doesn't complain. Dennis was toasty on his red BMW R1200RT, on the other hand, sitting behind a tall electrically adjustable windshield on a heated seat enjoying heated grips and wearing a heated jacket liner. He politely didn't rub it in, …much

The weather continued warming up and by Houston we were almost comfortable. Lunch time traffic that Thursday in Houston was a breeze. We shot through the multi-layered maze of Interstate exchanges at the speed limit, surprising all three of us.

The Texas State Highway Patrol Academy was having its radar interception classes between Houston/Katy and San Antonio. There were between 40 and 50 radar traps in a 60 mile stretch of I-10 that afternoon. And unbelievably, there were people still getting tickets after they had passed the first 20 or so radar units. (???)

It was getting near sunset as we finished the by-pass loop Texas SR 1064 around the north end of San Antonio and my GPS directed us to a gas station. This was Rudy's gas station/country store/barbeque which advertised itself as the "The Worst Barbeque in Texas". It wasn't. The mesquite smoked meats sent off aromas that captured us like the Sirens' beckoning calls that seduced Ulysses' crew. We fueled up, ate tender brisket, cold slaw, ranch style beans, drank iced tea and waited until the retina searing setting sun was just below the horizon. We talked little as we had been traveling for nearly 12 hours at this point. The quiet and comfort, as we shed helmets, jackets, neck gaiters, gloves, jacket liners etc., gave the meal a purpose. Relaxation, a sense of accomplishment and thanks that we had good traffic, good luck and camaraderie all soothed our aches and anxieties. As we passed northwest of Kerrville, the chilly night became fully dark. The darkness of the unpopulated countryside absorbed our headlight beams. There just isn't any darker than out-in-the-country dark. I was spooked by the memory of Larry Grodsky finding a deer in this part of Texas, at this time of night. I was unnerved to the point of stopping at the next motel, any motel, after passing a succession of about six dead deer spots on the highway. We stopped near Junction, Texas. No one protested. 652.7 miles.

Friday AM

We were soon off I-10 at US-377 south in the frigid early morning pre-dawn light. That fact generated an irrepressible Cheshire grin on my stiff-with-cold-cheeks as I thought how much Dennis hates the interstate (and I'm sure that everyone in the western hemisphere knows that by now). The disobedient smiles started as we found curves marked at 30 mph in the gentle hills. Left, right, left, all constant radius curves, as we finally got to obliterate the chicken strips on our new tires. I was in the lead (with the GPS) when suddenly I hit the brakes- slowing for several deer off to the right. I stopped just for the novelty of seeing these traffic stoppers so close up and unafraid. They persisted in grazing just a few feet from our bikes. As we watched the deer on the right, three more came from the left and crossed the highway 20 feet in front of us. We started up and shortly saw a herd of prong horn antelope pacing us on the left. Later, we startled an eagle that flew up, dropping his rabbit. I watched in the mirror as the eagle circled around and resumed breakfast. We stopped again to take pictures at a bridge over a small fast running clear stream. The center of this bridge had a sign; "Do Not Cross When This Sign Is Under Water" The sign was five feet tall.

Miles of private ranches and exotic game hunting preserves showed us wire fences of varying heights, some kept deer in, some kept cattle and horses in. The grassless, rocky, almost barren ground, peppered with mesquite trees, was randomly adorned with magnificent gates promising an unseen Texas palace or a grand ranch house. The wide shouldered road bore almost no traffic as we bulleted through. The coarse angular aggregate of the asphalt highway pledged great traction or the worst abrasion you could imagine. We picked traction.

Breakfast for us came next to the blue waters of the very large Amistad Reservoir in Del Rio. Checking my Garmin ZUMO GPS at breakfast, I found that it didn't show any gas stations for the next 177 miles to the west along US 90. Larry bought a two gallon can and cargo-netted it in behind his seat. The range of his SV is about 140 to 150 miles, the BMWs have ranges over 200 miles. (As it turned out there were two gas stations strategically situated along that stretch). After a really good Mexican breakfast we motored west on US 90, we crossed the surprisingly clear blue Pecos River to Langtry, Texas.

This little town seventeen miles west of the Pecos closely borders the Rio Grande and was made famous by Judge Roy Bean. We stopped to see the free museum and wandered down the ghost town streets looking at the "fixer uppers". The gruff octogenarian running the gift and souvenir shop said he moved back to Langtry in 1956. He said his grandfather lived there when Judge Bean ran the town. He didn't think too highly of Bean. He said it was as likely the law book Bean would 'read' from might be upside down half the time. Prickly 80 year olds do speak their mind.

We turned south off US 90 at the aptly named, Alpine, Texas. The town is about 4,400 feet above sea level. Texas SR 118 rewarded us with well-engineered sinuous curves and hills. South of those sensually undulating rewards, we were in open country akin to Monument Valley in southern Utah. There were high distant mesas and the random mountain poking up into the clear dry cool air. The treeless plains are populated by lonely saguaro cacti, eagles, hawks and invisible to us, rabbits, snakes, javelina and other short varmints hidden by the thigh-high ash gray grassy-looking xerophytes. We did see horses, wild hogs and cattle, besides the aforementioned deer and prong horn antelope. Then it was west at Terligua on Texas RM 170 to our resort destination, The Badlands at Lajitas. We were told this is a one hundred million dollar investment by a dot.com-er with a dream to make Lajitas a Texas "Palm Springs". So, as you might imagine, it's nice.

The day saw us through another 452 miles. We had a couple of Mexican beers and dined on the fajitas buffet at the resort. Sharing the dining veranda with us were seven looped girls having a bachelorette party. They had taken markers and written bawdy things all over their bodies and definitely were having way more fun than we were. At least we would feel better at sunrise…

Fifty five MSTA-ers showed up for the event including us. Most were from Texas, but some rode from Washington, Ohio, Colorado and other distant states.

Room-Song of the Night

My regular riding buddy, Dennis, snores a quiet 16 bars routine with a pause at the end then repeats. Dennis falls to sleep in about one minute, so there is no chance to go to sleep faster than him. On this trip, needing a third bed, we wheeled in a roll-away bed for Larry. After 12 bars Larry joined in for the last four bars in a synchronous "chorus". At first I was annoyed, and then by the second stanza, I was amused. After the miles, the beer and the meal, I too joined in, for a peaceful three part harmony.

Saturday AM

This was another 450 mile day, but the territory we covered was rugged, wild, desolate and challenging. We headed west on the 54 mile famous stretch of Texas RM 170 from Lajitas to Presidio, known as "Ride the Rio". And indeed, we did! No offence to anyone from Presidio reading this, but go on now, sin all you want, you are already living in hell. No grass, no trees, just dirt, tumbleweeds and abandoned buildings greeted the skinny dog walking down the street. The west end of town is populated and surprised us with the very good, super clean and tidy "El Patio" Mexican restaurant. Another delicious Mexican breakfast, gas up at the nearby Chevron station then north to the McDonald Observatory. We headed up US 67 to Marfa, then west on US 90 past the remarkable US Air Force weather balloon. This looks like a small blimp about 1,000 feet up, or to those historically inclined, it looked exactly like a WWII barrage balloon. We kept heading west to Texas FM 505. North on FM 505 led to the challenging SR 166, the observatory road. We stopped at the McDonald Observatory strategically located high in the hills and far from any other light pollution. Dennis found snow in the shadows and pelted us with snowballs while he laughed maniacally. Then we entered the University of Texas run museum and café. Hot apple pie was in definitely in order.

After the snack, we headed south on SR 118. The recent snows had been combated with TDOT trucks spreading pea gravel which I discovered booking through a 270* curve. Now, that will tighten up your muscles. No crashes, but plenty of focus. Then we headed back to Marfa on US Highway 67, where we enjoyed the video on the mysterious Marfa lights at the Aztec Trading Post.

We back-tracked south on US 67 to Presidio then rode east on Texas RM 170 again. RM 170 is a highway that will eventually kill you. Knowing that sobering fact will probably make you cautiously hyper-attentive and wary enough to live a while though. You crest hills without a clue which way the road will turn. "Loose Livestock" signs turn it up a little more. About four or five places, the road is under water several times a year. The white aggregate is sharp and large, chewing tires just for fun. Then there are the frequent breath-taking vistas that steal your attention from the vital task of navigation as you rip along side the river. There are whoops that are straight, and some that aren't. There is no shoulder and sometimes that is spectacular. The Rio Grande and Mexico are your constant companions. A movie set remains on the side of the road, right on the Rio Grande. This was from a movie called "Contrabando". The set looked like an early Clint Eastwood western like "Fist full of Dollars". Dennis found a rock. He has a routine to bring back a rock from the far flung places we go. I know what you are thinking, "Damn, I bought my wife jewelry". Hahaha


AM Larry planned on earning a certificate from the Iron Butt Association on the trip home. Larry's GPS distance to his home in Slidell, Louisiana is 1,026 miles without side diversions for gas. The distance to New Orleans is 1,018 miles via Interstate-10.

Dennis did his Iron Butt years ago and has the Iron Butt license frame that he moves bike to bike as he changed bikes over the years. Larry printed out the forms, collected the receipts and we headed out at a surprisingly on time 6 AM. It was still inky dark as we preceded east on RM 170 and north on SR 118 at a slower than usual pace, straining to spot wild life on the vacant highway. By sunrise we were 60 miles along the journey home. The welcome early rays shooting up through the clear eastern sky illuminated the infinite big sky. On the way home, I was remembering what I had seen and to put into words the vistas. The vastness of that harsh empty land teeming with life awes me every time I travel to the Southwest. Visual scenes of the roaring silt filled Rio Grande corralled by steep cliffs, the demanding rugged curves, play-acting like hardened gunslingers in the ghost towns, enjoying the Mexican fajitas dinners and breakfasts of huevos rancheros and the company of good friends ran through my mind that morning. These thoughts remind me how much I love life. This too, is why I ride.

There is something mysterious about a section of SR 118 just north of Terlingua. The temperature just kept dropping and dropping. It was about 42*F when we left, by 7:30 AM it was 29*F. Painfully cold, because by that time, we were up to speed. The speed limit is 75mph, so, of course, we were doing about 80 mph. Now I don't actually know what the wind chill factor of 29*F at 80 mph is, but I can describe it.

When we reached east-bound I-10, the wind picked up and was blowing from the south at 30, gusting to 45 mph. It was a buffeting unsteady wind that punished us, making my neck sore, as we fought to keep our bikes in the wide interstate lanes. We were hard put to try to maintain the 80 mph speed limit. A particularly strong gust, coupled with Dennis passing into the invisible but powerful bow wake of a slower moving 18 wheeler was enough in combination to force Dennis off the pavement at 80 mph. I was directly behind him. I was terrified by this slow motion prelude to a terrible crash as he negotiated the west Texas median. He kept his red BMW RT upright as he let the speed bleed off. He was still fighting the side blast of winds as he followed the training from his track day schools, to ride out the off "track" excursion. After about 200 yards he had slowed enough to head back toward the pavement. Oh, thank God. I started breathing again. Then I started a deep roaring laughter of relief that lasted at least a full minute. All ended well, but it caused a hard shot of hand shaking adrenaline all around. All the traffic stopped on the eastbound interstate as this drama played out. This dropped our cruise speed until later in the day when the winds abated. We stopped at Ozona, Texas for gas and another and final (final for this trip) Mexican breakfast.

Larry used his two gallon gas can between every gas station stop, equaling my longer ranged BMW. Dennis with his seven gallon tank could go twice as far.

We rolled around the loop at San Antonio to find that Sunday was a day of rest for Texas State Trooper School. We breezed through Katy/Houston. Gassed up at Beaumont and then we were on the home stretch and home after a short 16 hours and 48 minutes on the highway. Larry, taking a different route on the last leg, phoned-in 10 minutes later that he had reached his home. In all, it was a satisfying and worthy four days.

Congratulations, Larry.

Sidebar on changing chain driven rear tires

Changing the rear tire of the single side drive shaft driven BMW is like changing a car tire-actually easier because we have center stands.
Step 1. Put the bike on the center stand,
Step 2. Remove the rear wheel lugs. That's it. Done.

Changing the rear tire on Larry's chain driven Suzuki as the sun set was a three man, five handed job.
Step 1. Raise up the bike with the garage- item stand.
Step 2. Remove the cotter key from the axle nut.
Step 3. Find a wrench big enough to turn that monster. (It's 36 mm). No, it's not in your toolbox either.
Step 4. Loosen the chain tension bolts which Larry insisted that had to be undone.
Step 5. Take the rear caliper loose again which Larry insisted had to be done. This was his second time changing the rear tire, it was our first doing this.
Step 6. And this is important, watch where everything falls out and rolls off to.

But the fun is getting it all back together (by this time it was thoroughly dark), the side bushings fell out, the brake caliper has to be held just so, is the chain still on? Why does the bulb on the trouble light always burn out when you drop it because it slipped out of your mouth because you need both hands to hold all the pieces together while lifting the wheel into the proper position. At least with the trouble light in my smart ass mouth, it minimized the cussing.
But all in all it only took a short hour and half to do the job. (Taking the old tire off the rim, mounting the new one and balancing just took about 12 minutes). We are definitely still on the wrong side of this learning curve. I am still questioning Step 4 and 5.

Fun in the Sun

By Bob Chappuis

Stacie and I attended the inaugural Fun in the Sun non-AMA sanctioned event hosted by the Florida MSTA. The event was held in Ocala, FL and we were looking forward to a little relief from Louisiana's unusually cold winter by heading to the Sunshine State but it did not work out that way. Instead it was a great test of our new Warm and Safe heated jacket liners and gloves as temperatures dipped well below freezing. Fortunately, Stacie and I have adopted a touring policy of limiting each days ride to about 350 miles. This allowed us to delay our departures until the temperatures were reasonable (at least 40).

We left St. Francisville on Thursday at 10:00am and traveled back roads to Franklinton, LA where we found a great diner and had some great country cooking for lunch. This is a biker friendly place and a possible future lunch ride destination. I am unsure of the name and it does not show up in Google Maps but it at the corner of Highway 10 and Mott st. After lunch we continued east on LA 10/MS 26 through Bogalusa, Poplarville, Wiggins, and Lucedale. I was intent on avoiding Interstate 10 and bypassing Mobile and actually found some nice Alabama back roads in the process. Then we made a quick run on I-65 followed by more back roads in Alabama and Florida to Crestview, FL. The temperature never climbed above 52 but we were quite comfortable in our electric apparel. We both love our Warm & Safe gear, purchased at a great MSTA discount. Stacie also had good things to say about her Go Pro, Ltd. Polar Mask Balaclava.

We spent the night at a nice Quality Inn for free, using a Choice Hotels (another great MSTA membership benefit) award night. Continuiung the "frugal traveller" theme, the LaRumba Mexican restaurant within walking distance was having a $5.00 special on combination plates and we feasted on good TexMex and Margheritas for a ridiculously low price! The next morning the Quality Inn complimentary breakfast included bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, biscuits and grits as well as excellent coffee. My diet was in serious trouble! We again waited for the sun to warm up the landscape although the predicted 27 degree low had not materialized (only 34) and by 9:30 we were on the road in low 40s weather. We travelled I-10 to just east of Tallahassee then exited onto FL 19, down the Florida "Nature" Coast.

Heading south I could see on my GPS display we were edging close to the Gulf of Mexico and south of Tennile we decided to head over to the beach via County Road 358 and look for a crab burger. We found ourselves in the fishing village of Steinhatchee and at Mel's (Tillis of Country Music fame) Crabshack Café and Tiki Bar at the Gulfstream Marina. But the fish must have not been biting as Mel was nowhere to be seen and the place was deserted. And no beach or gulf access, just the Steinhatchee River. We did find Casey's Cove open back up the road and managed to obtain a tasty lunch after waking up the sleepy staff!

Continuing, we turned east at Chiefland onto US 27 Alt for the final leg to Ocala and arrived at the Ramada Inn around 3:30. The Inn was old but nice and accomodating. There were no other bikes in the lot yet as the Floridians were out riding but we quickly located our good friends, the Headricks (Chuck & Frances of Titusville), who had arrived via automobile. After catching up over cocktails we headed out in Frances' new Honda Civic in search of a restaurant. We found a Ruby Tuesdays in a nearby mall and enjoyed a good meal.

The Riders had returned from their ride when we got back and we all congregated in the motel lounge for more cocktails and camaraderie. Saturday morning dawned with cold rain. I checked out the weather radar on my netbook and concluded it would be raining most of the day. The sporting ride planned by Phil Ridgedill which I had planned to attend was being postponed until Sunday and the sightseeing route led by Jim Parks was changed to bike shop and vendor visits. I elected to hang with the folks with automobiles! I just drank coffee and watched as Jim and Dianne Parks and the gang climbed into their wet and cold weather riding gear and rode out into the cold drizzle. Our friends, Sam and Lee from Alachua soon arrived in their auto. The six of us headed out in two cars for a tour of the horse farms. The country side was quite scenic with gently rolling hills and mile after mile of impressive horse farms. After a tour led by Sam we headed back to Ocala for lunch at the Horse and Hound Restaurant. This place had décor that matched our horse country tour but more importantly the food was excellent. Back at the Ramada Inn, we headed over to the restaurant for a card game and then dinner organized by our hosts. The restaurant was also serving a large convention at the adjacent convention facility and there was a slight glitch in food preparation logistics but we all eventually got a hearty meal.

For our return ride home we had originally planned to use or Choice Hotels discount for a motel in Destin, FL, a summer vacation favorite from my childhood days but with rain predicted for our Monday afternoon route, we decided to cover more distance on Sunday. Again, leaving at about 9:30 the temperature was quite comfy in our heated gear and had a very enjoyable ride back along the "Nature Coast" At Perry, FL we turned west onto US 98, then FL 267 at Newport. There was little traffic and we made good time on 267, finally turn north on FL 71 at Blountstown, FL to connect with I-10 which we cruised at 85 to just west of Mobile, stopping for the night in Tillman's Corner just because we saw many motel signs. We got a cheap room at a Red Roof Inn after an easy 430 miles. And, just down the street was Azteca, Mexican Restuarant. We had maybe our best meal of the trip.
Monday we only had about 240 miles to go. We kept up our 85 mph I-10 pace until we reached the Louisiana line (where the over-abundance of moronic motorists clogging the passing lane precludes such a happy pace). Nevertheless we pushed on through a few light sprinkles and arrived home ten minutes before the rains came in earnest.
Other than missing out on the secret Central Florida twisties due to Saturday's rain, the trip was a great one and I plan to do this event again! Our thanks go to Jim and Dianne Parks for putting on this great event.


By Bob Chappuis

Saturday, February 20

We had a nice turnout despite cool temperatures in the early morning but the skies were sunny and blue and the day warmed up quickly. We met in St. Francisville to ride a loop I had put together that included several of the best roads in EAST & WEST FELICIANA PARISHES and AMITE & WILKINSON COUNTIES. The Beemer Bros., Dave Dickson and Dennis Hedrick, AKA Beavis and Butthead, rode up all the way from New Orleans and Kevin Yeats came on his ST1300 Honda from Hahnville. Tony Crowell joined us from Baton Rouge on his VFR and Derek Babcock, of walker showed up on his Kawasaki ZZR1200. Derek is son of member Eric who had planned to ride but stayed home with the flu. I led most of the way on my Concours 14.

The roads varied from broad, open, smooth sweepers to tight, narrow, and sometimes rough and/or muddy single lane tracks through the woods. The ride was fairly spirited at times but uneventful until the final leg when an unexpected bump knocked Derek off line and into a muddy shoulder causing the big Kawasaki to go down at low speed. Stopping to assist, Dave's BMW also fell over due to the treacherous footing. Damage was limited to broken or dislodged turn signal on each machine and both riders were able to proceed to the lunch destination. At that point Tony and I swapped bikes as he had not sampled the new Concours. Tony seemed to enjoy the Concours as he sped away with Kevin in tow. The rest of us got separated and I decided to take a shortcut to get back in front. I am prone to makes these impromptu course alterations thanks to my GPS. However, my GPS was on the Concours piloted by Tony!

After years of relying on a GPS my memory does not work very well. I missed a turn and our group enjoyed a special treat of forging a water crossing at "low water bridge", TWICE. We have several of these in West Feliciana Parish. I always wondered why they call them a "low water bridge". Is it because it is only a bridge when the water was low? This day, the water was NOT very low and we tipped-toed through about 5 inches of flowing stream. In my mirror I saw Dennis pause on the bank and I momentarily feared he would balk. But he plunged ahead (figuratively speaking) and all made it across without drama. After another 3 miles or so I came on a road junction with a sign that said Solitude Rd. and I realized I had inadvertently led us into Cat Island Swamp (home of the worlds largest living Bald Cypress tree. We had to turn around and backtrack (yes, back across low water bridge) after consulting with a local farmer for directions. When we finally arrived at Que Pasa Kevin and Tony and Rick Spiller were waiting for us on the Patio. Rick had been unable to join us for the ride due to some morning appointments but rode out to meet us for lunch on his FJR1300. We grabbed a couple of tables on the outdoor patio and enjoyed a hearty Mexican meal before splitting up and heading home. It was another great fun, gathering with a great bunch of riders.

February Lunch Ride LA MSTA

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Late Apex Track Days

DATE: Saturday, April 10, 2010
TIME: 7:00 AM to 4:00 PM
LOCATION: Circuit Grand Bayou Road Track (NPR)
Belle Rose, LA

That's all for now.

Bob Chappuis, State Director and Editor