I have been riding hard and not finding many wifi spots, so I am behind a day or two.
Heading out of Del
Rio I needed groceries and a place to do the wifi
thing. As luck would have it there was a WalMart with a McDonalds attached, and
right across the street a motorcycle shop with a front tire in stock to fit The
Bruiser with the added bonus of having available time to put it on right now. We have been studying
that front wheel and agreed that it is time for a new rubber boot. Lickety split it
all got done for a good price and we were on the road by 10:00. Unfortunately
it is a blackwall rather than the original whitewalls but it really wasn’t
worth waiting a week for one to come in. So the socks don’t match. We’re OK
with that.
Dry, flat Texas
greened up towards what is called Hill Country. For an extra thrill the roads got
curly too. So with the nice new treads and The Bruiser juiced up with 93 octane
as a special treat we tried on some curves. These roads are called the Twisted
Sisters, a Mecca
for bikers in the area. We liked it a lot.
So, maybe it’s finally time to talk about riding the corners.
After riding for over 40 years, I learned something
interesting on a ride through Oregon
last summer. I learned how to steer. That is not to say that I rode in straight
lines during all that time, but steering a bike—a big bike—is different from
steering a car or a bicycle. In fact, since I got The Bruiser almost 5 years
ago I was kind of frustrated that I could not take sharp corners at decent
speed. So here it what I learned.
I’m not really certain what it is that we do to steer a
bicycle or turn a motorbike around gentle turns. I still don’t. It just kind of
happens on its own without thinking. Likely we just lean our bodies and that
makes the wheel turn the way we want to go. But on a bike with
considerably more mass than the rider, leaning our bodies doesn’t have to same
kind of effect, so sharp turns are tricky. “So,” as my old math prof used to
say, “vat to do?”
Unbelievably, one turns the handbar in the opposite direction to the intended turn. It’s true. This is
called ‘counter steering’. There is a gyroscopic principle involved, but never
mind that. It works and it is a powerful tool for turning sharply at high
speed. When negotiating a right turn, one actually pulls the handlebar back
with the left hand, causing the right hand to dip and the bike to lean sharply
to the right. Imagine a steering wheel that you turn the opposite way to your intended turn. The beauty of this is how it allows great precision in
controlling how sharply you want the bike to turn at any point during the
maneuver.
This is coupled with another principle which has metaphoric
as well as pragmatic value. We have a tendency to move in the direction that
our eyes are looking. In a driving context (this is also true of cars), if you
are careening around a sharp corner and your eyes are fixed on a pothole, tree
or oncoming car in the other lane, you will invariably hit it. So the trick is
to lift your eyes and look at the line that you want to follow. Don’t look at
where you are or focus on the pothole you don’t want to fall into, look at where
you want to go. If you have the necessary skill sets, your body will follow.
I leave it to the reader to consider some metaphorical
contexts where the same principle applies. I will tell you that it has come up
many times in my work with student teachers who get paralyzed in the moment and
stumble, and I think of it often myself when I am working through a problem, a
plan, a presentation, or a conversation. Look ahead at where you want to go rather than fix on the current problem and the rest will follow.
This is the heart of Texas.
Lots of big talk, big hats, big trucks, big ranches and big ideas. There a
recurring wild west theme that shapes the culture and the architecture. And
that is just fine—we all live in and recreate our cultural icons and symbols. But I
guess I struggle a bit with the authenticity of it. A fabricated steel hitching
post outside a post office doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. All of the
original structures have either decayed and are lost, or else they have been
preserved and restored and are now the sites of a big commercial display. After
all this time it is difficult to find something old, natural and still
functional. At least in North America. But is
certainly not true of Europe or other parts of the Old
World. Why is that?
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| Everything is big in Texas. Why, this is called a Texas Shorthorn. |
 | ||||
| We look for Utopia all our lives. Who knew it was in central Texas! | Regrettably, I turned east and missed it. |
My interactions with Texans so far have been very limited, but
my impression is not of effusive friendliness. It is not unfriendly,
just… indifferent. Eye contact or smiles with strangers are uncommon although for the most part they respond kindly to an invitation to chat. One young hitchhiker at
the roadside earlier today was waving nicely to all the passing cars as he held
out his hopeful thumb, but sadly I fear the poor bugger is still standing there.
Now, it may well be that I am the one who does not appear approachable, what with the grizzled grey beard and black leathers and all. That is entirely possible.
 |
| There IS a kind of an attitude here, don't you think? |
Pausing at one small town for gas, a rest and a snack I
ventured into a biker saloon to use the restroom. Let me tell you it was scary
in there! Luckily I had the foresight to park my Japanese bike a block away.
The town had about a dozen businesses—three of them were bars, and one was a
taxidermy. Walls are festooned with the ghoulish, disembodied heads of hapless
forest creatures. I skeedaddled lest I became another one of them.
 |
| If they tell you to "get Stuffed" in Campwood;, Texas, take it as a hint to get out of there. |
It is a place of inconsistency. A shop will have a display
of religious books written to give guidance for families, self awareness, bible
study and things of the like. On the rack literally right beside it is a
display of demonic teeshirts with images and horrifying slogans that would make
a sailor wince. Two bumper stickers on the same car: One "Radio Station KLMN, Love and Encouragement" and the other: "I'll have my Gun, My Freedom (and something else... I forget) And You can Keep the "Change'".
Guns, God and Old Glory are the central symbols and there is no apparent contradition.
Is a river still a river if it has a channel, a name,
bridges over it and not a lick of water?
Just wondering. But there are lots of those down here. Maybe
that is what made the west wild in the first place—just too damned hot and dry.
That will make you wild after a while. Little did I think that before the end of the day I would be swimming in one of
them. Guadeloupe River
State Park is about 50 miles from San Antonio and the river
is cool, restoring, and wet.
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| WATER! And a place to swim and beat the heat. |
As I write this on my little picnic table, swarms of
fireflies are blinking in the darkness. I would say that the evening is still
and serene, but for the swarm of elementary school kids screaming and chasing
one another through the campground. They are on a field trip that has many
worthy curricular intentions, I am certain. They are nice kids, very entusiastic and have a ready smile for me. But I am plugged into my little
ipod, the blues are blissful and really, all is right with the world.
THE NEXT DAY
The kids settled down quite early. What woke me up was a
skittering and then some loud quarrelling outside my tent. I rushed out with my
flashlight to catch a couple of raccoons making off with a bag of food that I
carelessly left on the table. They would have gotten away with it if they hadn’t start fighting over it. All I retrieved that I really needed was my little
coffee maker. That would be a tragic loss as I am quite useless without my
morning coffee.
A few of the towns in this area north of San Antonio have a German flavour to them,
owing to the early settlement. It still has the wild west theme as well, so it
makes for a curious architecture. I especially liked the little town of Gruene.
Me and the Bruiser girded our respective loins again and
hauled down the freeway to San Antonio,
less than about 50 miles away. One easy exit and we were right in the part of
the city that I came to see. Three bucks to park on the street (in a space that
a car would never fit into) right by the entrance to the famous Riverwalk. The
meandering river has been beautifully developed with a promenade on both sides,
hotels, restaurants, shops, bars, you name it. And is it ever cool! It is like
a little Venice.
I chose to walk the circuit rather than take the little tour boat just because
I really need the exercise.
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| The Riverwalk--a little Venice in San Antonio |
Right next door to the Riverwalk is the site of the famous Alamo. The battle was fought in the mid 1800’s between a
small number of Texans stationed there and a large number of Mexican/Spanish
who wanted them gone. The outcome was predictable, (at least in the short term) but the bravery of those
80 men is highly praised. Jim Bowie (the guy with the knife) and Davie Crockett
were two of the more famous of this squad. A fair amount of the original walls
and buildings remain and of course many of the artifacts are on display.
 |
| Remember the Alamo! |
I had a thoroughly satisfying cruise through the area, and
then a somewhat less enjoyable time trying to locate The Bruiser when I emerged
back on to the contorted streets. But we are together again and all is well. A
very helpful woman stepped up and made some intelligent suggestions that panned
out for me. Coincidently, I met her in traffic 20 minutes later and we shared
an unheard laugh.
My goal is to reach New
Orleans by my scheduled turnaround time on Monday
(four weeks in, then four weeks back). Requires that I scurry periodically, and
after my planned stop at San Antonio,
this was scurrying time. Today was my longest leg so far at over 500 km. I did
stop to enjoy cruising slowly through some of the towns that have an historical
flavour, and actually that is quite a few of them. Goliad and Edna were two in
particular. The building facades have embossed dates between the 1880’s and
early 1900’s.
 |
| Goliad. Notice the store on the right advertizing furniture, coffins and caskets |
As I approached the Gulf Coast
the land flattened out, rivers and streams filled with water and some lakes
appeared. There is lots of agriculture on these fertile coastal plains, and
finally the cowboys are replaced by fishermen. We are camped tonight on the
beach at Matagorda. The sun set like a fireball and the lovely marine scented
breeze (and it is a stiff one) is blowing onshore. Again I had to chase after
my tumbleweed tent rolling over the dunes.
