A Midnight Ride
August 2001
I was bored. I had watched the local news, dominated Playstation 2, and web
surfed till my eyes were blurry. It was 11:30pm, and I was wide awake. It was a
Sunday night, I was off the following morning, my work days the following week
are Wednesday and Saturday. What to do? Go for a ride of course.
I walked from the study to my "dressing room", ok so its really the
laundry room, but it houses my riding gear. The Roadcrafter, hung on the door,
my Bieffe and gloves on their assigned table. My boots poised and ready.
I zipped up and the sound of my boots walking in the kitchen woke my slumbering
wife.
"where are YOU going?"
"for a ride, not sleepy"
"NOW"?
"well I thought I would, be back in a hour or so"
"well ok, be careful"
"don't worry"
I fired up the ST, I pulled my gloves on as the motor warmed up.
The air hangs thick in Central Alabama in late August. These are "dog
days". The dew point is well in the 70s. For a reference point, dews in
California or Arizona, are in the 30s and 40s. At 11:45pm the temp is 73 with a
dew point of 71. Always reference the dew point in relation to the temp to get a
true measure of moisture in the air. The narrower the gap, the wetter it
is.
I need to get moving as I feel the sweat running down my back already.
I drop down to first, and ponder where to go. That's easy. A Krispy Kreme run to
Montgomery, then back home by way of Elmore County. The donuts will be hot this
time of night, and the familiar roads of my stomping grounds will be empty.
My hometown is quiet on this Sunday night. I spot a cruiser on routine patrol
near the drug store. They recognize my bike and a hand pops out the
window.
I turn east on Main Street and make my way to I-65. The normally bustling east
side is quiet and slow. The fast food joints are closed and dark.
The East Side of Prattville is like the east side every city. Growing,
prosperous, and new. People are fleeing the capital city of Montgomery in
droves, moving here for our low crime, good schools, and low property taxes.
I pass the Wal Mart SuperCenter. Judging by the parking lot they are busy
inside. What was life like before Wal Mart? I will tell you-it was Saturday
mornings at court square where if you hung around on the bench long enough,
everyone in town would come by. It was the local sandwich shop, where you got a
cherry coke and burger. It was the hardware store at Court and Main, where you
went for household items. The entire inventory of the local grocery store of
back then, can be placed in the Supercenter's bread section.
A white car pulls into a intersection tripping the light, causing me to stop
rather quickly. I recall when this intersection was nothing more then a stop
sign, for 2 quiet farm roads, and not that long ago.
I have two options when I reach I-65. I can take the interstate into the city,
or go straight, and take a private toll road. The latter would be quicker and
safer, but I take the interstate, saving my 75 cents for donuts.
I-65 is under contraction. They are transforming it into a 6 lane(3 each way)
high speed time tunnel from Prattville into the city. The construction has been
going on for years. In the mid 70s the final 15 miles from Prattville to
Montgomery was completed in 2 years. That included clearing, bridging 3 water
bodies, and placing the highway on a levee, to clear it from the flood plain of
the nearby Alabama River. Trucks hauled dirt 24 hrs a day for many months to
construct the levee. The current project has take 3 years already, and is
nothing more then adding a lane each way. To make matters even more laughable,
the new lanes only cover 6 of the 15 miles.
Riding south the skyline of Montgomery lights up the sky. The green topped, RSA
Tower dominates the city. My retirement dollars built the Tower, and the State
leases it. It has proven to be a good investment.
I take the first Montgomery exit. The exit ramp is long and bends hard to the
right. I resist the urge to lean hard. I know the ramp is oily, as big trucks
take this exit to load or unload at a nearby Winn-Dixie warehouse.
I ride past the old industrial section of Montgomery. This area was home to a
once thriving blue collar haven, but now the buildings are falling in. I see a
glass bottle factory-shut down, a old clothing apparel building-shut
down, a old food processing plant-shut down, and the list goes on.
The row houses near the plants, have become crack houses, and the once proud
blue collar neighborhoods are crime infested. I wonder what it must have been
like to live within sight of the place you worked. How it must felt to see the
lights of your livelihood every night, and weekend from your porch? Those were
different times, growing up in these neighborhoods, you pretty much knew
your fate. It was assumed a guy would follow his father. The specter of the
factory hung over him. He could see it when he walked to school, played touched
football in the vacant lots, and when he kissed his girl on her front porch.
I escaped that fate, and now I glide by on a fancy, shiny motorcycle that has
taken me places, kids of that era only dreamed about.
Soon I leave the industrial graveyard for the lights of Montgomery's East Side.
I ride past the Harley, Honda, and Kawasaki shops, all within sight of each
other.
The KK comes into sight and I pull in. The orange neon light flashing "Hot
donuts now" YEAH. KK has been here as long as I can remember. The south is
home to the company, and we have come to take them for granted.
The clerk says-
"kinda late to be out riding"
"yeah but all I gotta do tomorrow is get up and read the paper"
"must be nice"
I order 6 hot glazed. They are so warm I can't pick them up. I eat 2, and put
the rest in the saddlebag for the next morning.
It is after 12am, when I leave the donut shop. I take the Western By Pass and
head for Wetumpka and Elmore County.
I follow US 231 into the sleepy city by the river of Wetumpka. It, like
Prattville, is growing, and as a result in the middle of growing pains. None of
which are apparent on this peaceful quiet night.
Wetumpka also has a Supercenter, and it is doing a brisk business as I ride by.
The shops on Main Street are closed and quiet.
I cross back over the Alabama River and quickly find myself on a rural SR 111.
The road is dark, and quiet. The STs quartz headlight and PIAA 1700s blazing
back the night. My eyes make the adjustment from city lights to rural darkness.
My lights pick up set of red eyes in the distance. They are in the weeds to my
right. To low to the ground to be deer I say. I slow down but before I get to
close he darts off into the trees. I guess it to be a armadillo or a raccoon.
I have the road to myself, but I keep it around 50 mph.
The farm houses I ride by are sleeping. The occupants in bed long ago. They are
farmers, and Monday morning will bring tractors, cows, and crops. They will be
in the fields long before I am up.
I have ridden this road hundreds of times over 30 years, but can't recall ever
doing it at night.
I turn off SR 111 onto Coosa River Road at Shoal Creek Baptist Church.
This road is county maintained. It is dark, and the tree line comes all the way
down to the road. With my eyes fully adjusted my lights appear even
brighter. The houses here are close to the road, and I light up their interior
as I ride by.
The road dips down into a tree canopied tunnel. My lights startled a owl and he
takes off- right at me. The sudden illumination of his roosting area by such a
intense light, blinds him. I am playing chicken with a owl? Doesn't he know he
CAN'T win? Before the gap gets too close he pulls up and goes over me.
The air is so thick, the leaves so green, I can smell the foliage. The smell of
pine and green trees catches the back of my nose. A mist hangs close to the road
in the low spots.
I emerge out of the tree canopy into surrounding hay fields. I see tractors
poised, and ready for the next day's task. Their red reflectors, flash as I go
by.
The road ends all too quickly and I mark a right turn on SR 143. I know exactly
where I am. These roads are in my domain. I can place every turn, and every mail
box.
The route takes me into the tiny village of Deatsville. Home to a tractor supply
place, and few houses, and a modern post office.
The lights of the post office casting a glow all the way to the highway.
It is 1:00am now. I am 15 miles from home. my route will be county roads all the
way back to US 31. As well as I know these roads, they take a different
character this late at night.
I turn on CR 85 and the road takes a downhill with a long left hand twist. As I
ride downhill, lights from the other direction, light up the berm. A north bound
car is approaching. I run the time and distance numbers. I am going to meet this
guy in the worst possible place, and it doesn't look like he is going to dim his
lights. I slow down and move to the right, I assume this late at night he is
going to be drunk, and halfway in my lane. None of which materializes, we do
meet in a bad place, but he is courteous and under control.
I make one last turn on a road known to locals as "County Line Road".
The road has recently been repaved. It is smooth, but not painted yet.
I slow down as I approach the turn that took a brother rider but a week ago. A
white cross marks the spot. I can still see the orange paint of the
investigation on the road.
County Line Road empties me out on to busy SR 14, and out of the darkness. I-65
is nearby, and the exit is awash in motels, food joints, gas stations. My pupils
constrict, as if to signal my return from the Forbidden Zone.
I turn back on Main Street. The red lights now on flash.
I coast back in the garage, and turn the ST off at 1:20am. Awesome ride, and a
damn fine way to kill 90 minutes. Y'all need to try it. Great therapy.
