Guy Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages

Adventures in Sport Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT

Exploring North America...One Road at a Time

Day 4
August 9th, 1973
Mobile, Alabama

I was walking back to my room on a warm, stifling morning when a couple, mid 20s, stopped to me for a chat.  She had a shag type haircut, Bermuda shorts, and a halter top.  Her husband was dressed in the male equivalent, faded cut off jeans, and left over T shirt from the flower power days, and sandals.  They had no accents, not even a yankee one, so I had no idea where they were from.  (at the time I had traveled very little outside the south, so didn't know much about accents.  Looking back they were Mid Atlantic, probably Delaware, or Maryland, judging by the way they pronounced words that contained oh and 00s like school or house.

"I wanted to speak to you last night, but didn't see you around, I was gonna knock on  your door, but Karen said not to.  You might have company."

I laughed, "I wish."

"We're on our way to New Orleans, honeymoon, but I saw your bike, I just wanted to let you know I have a CB 450."  (for a number of years the biggest bike Honda made)

"Hey man, that's a great bike."

"Where ya headed today?"  (30 years later people still ask me that same question.  They always want to know where you're going.)

"Meriden, Mississippi."

I brought the 350 to life and left the parking lot.  For the first time I found myself looking for a route in a large city.  I had no idea how to find SR 45.  The fold up gas station map I had offered little detail of places like Mobile.  "Well I'll just ride back down this way, and eventually I'll come across a SR 45 sign."

I had no idea what part of Mobile I was in, but I knew I wanted to go north.  (i-10 west was still under construction.  It would be years before it was finished to New Orleans).

While sitting out a traffic light, a 69 Nova sat next to me, windows down, Dobbie Brothers playing on the system.  Not sure if it was 8 track or radio. (make no mistake it was NOT the booming bass audio of today, not much more then a good clock radio really)

Sure enough after 15 or 20 minutes wandering the streets of Mobile I found SR 45 North. (Now days I know my way around every city in Alabama.  I know their basic layout and dropped off anywhere in one of them, I could fine a familiar road out in short order, come to think of it, I can do that in many American cities!)

It was about 10am, I was definitely not a morning person.  (I can't imagine starting a day on the road at 10am now days).  The Honda cleared the city and soon I was riding north on a very rural highway.  I had the road to myself as I sped along at 60-65 mph.

Tractors were working vast tracts of cotton in north Mobile County on this day.

Life was good.  I thought about on my return how I needed to get a apartment lined up for school.  I was going to be living with 2 old friends from high school while attending Jr. college in Selma.  I also thought about what was going on at the pickle plant.  "You know, I dunno if I wanna work there next summer or not."  ( I did) I kept thinking that while I enjoyed my ride.

At the state line I stopped for a few pictures.  There was a picnic table just this side of Alabama.  I pulled in and rested my butt for a minute.

           Noting my first visit to Mississippi

Shortly after crossing into Mississippi, the 350 sputtered and lurched, and had to reach down with my left had and turn the petcock under the gas tank.  I was officially on reserve.

The actual  photo from 1973, minus modern software
color restoration.  

At the time Mississippi was one of the few states without a helmet law, but I never entertained any thoughts of taking mine off.

And the same picture after restoration.  All the pics in 
this journal have been run through Photo Shop for clarity.
The picnic table was on the Mississippi-Alabama line.  This was
1973's version of a rest area.

On a empty stretch of 45 I found a old country store with gas pumps.  I pulled in and the young kid that came out to fill the Honda asked me a few questions.  (self serve still had not caught on, but the trend was obvious.)

"Nice bike, Where ya heading?"

"Meriden"

"how long ya been on the road?"

"since Monday"

I was starting to feel like a big time Long Rider by now.  In my own way I thought I was as good as the guys riding cross country.  I held them in such awe, and if I had met one on this trip I probably would have been embarrassed, that I was kind of trying to pass myself off as one of them.

(In the early 70s the primary touring bikes of the serious elites, were the BMWs.  They were shaft drive, reliable, and had a unique culture about them, and nothing at all like the UJM bikes that were so popular.  Some guys were taking CB 750s placing Windjammer fairings on them, in a effort to make them touring bikes.  The GL 1000 Gold Wing was still 2 years away)

I asked the kid what he was going to do when he graduated next year.

"Gonna join the Army or look for a job on the oil rigs in the Gulf."  Either way, he was leaving East Mississippi.

The fill up cost me 1.42.

It was mid afternoon and I still not ate lunch, but not come across a place that looked worthy.  I was in no man's land it seemed.

In Waynesboro, Mississippi, I found a small local cafe, that I was reminded of years later in Bird City, Kansas.  If I hadn't of known better I would have sworn somebody picked up the Waynesboro place and plopped down out in the Plains.  (Bird City, Kansas Cafe)

I left my helmet on my bike (something I rarely do now, because the hat makes a good conversation starter)

A lady instructed me to take a booth along the wall, I would have preferred a window, but did as I was told.

A very pretty blonde came for my order, and she was my age!  She had long hair and blue eyes, with a light blue waitress apron.  She had an intoxicating southern accent, that just seemed to go in your ears and drift around in your head. 

"What would you like to drink?"

"baby, you can bring me anything you want."

"Ice tea?"

"Excellent choice"

Now I know why the lady put me on this side of the dining hall.  Old folks do have a knack for the obvious.  

I ordered the burger and fries with a extra helping of small talk.  It was fun.  If she told me her name, I forgot it.  I do remember her telling me she was going to be a sophomore at Ole Miss in the fall.  She told me if I was ever in Oxford to call her, and I thought about following up, but distance was a different thing back then.  ( There were no emails, text messages, or free long distance.  In 2008, distance has no meaning, being connected to anyone is easy.  Not so in 1973, where a hundred miles was a hurdle.)

I took off from Waynesboro kind of giddy.  (I sometimes wondered what happened to her, in a way I hope she weighs 250 lbs, so I don't feel like I missed anything)

Traffic picked up the farther north I went.  I passed several cars and a couple of 18 wheelers.

Quitman looked like a good place to rest my butt, so the gas station with the drink machines looked inviting.  I put my dime in the box and pulled a Dr. Pepper out.  The station was busy but nobody thought me interesting enough to want to talk to.

By 4:30pm I was in Meriden.  I came into the city from the south and once on the main drag started looking for a place to stay.  I found the Virginia Court Motel and proceeded to check in.  The motel was just as nice as the St. Francis in Mobile and a dollar cheaper according to my notes.

After unloading the bike, I went over the Four.  The chain didn't need adjusting, but I did lube it.

I came back in took a long shower, mulled about my supper options.  "I'm going to the Bonanza Steakhouse I saw on the way in."  The restaurant was a couple miles east of the motel.

At the steakhouse I ordered a T bone, and did something different, and in the process started a tradition.  I took out my notes and worked on my journal while waiting for my food.  "I can work on my notes now and won't have as much to do later." (now I use a PDA that I keep in my stich pocket, when I'm by myself you'll see me taking it out and putting things in as the day progresses.)

The T bone was pretty good after a steady diet of hamburgers.

In the parking lot a couple of guys my age were gathered around the 350 Four.

"nice bike"

"yeah it does ok.  Y'all from around here?"

"yeah, unfortunately"

People always want to be anyplace other then where they're at.

"Why ya say that?"

"Not much to do."

"well I'm just passing through, so I wouldn't know about that.  I'm off to North Alabama in the morning."

I left the 2 bored guys in the parking lot, and stopped at a drug store to pick some popcorn and a drink.

Back at the room I spent the evening watching Ironside and the Dean Martin Show.  The late show was a movie about moonshiners.  I forget the name, but it starred the guy from old the TV show "Rat Patrol."  ( a google search revealed  his name to be Christopher George.)  The station signed off when it was over and so did I.

Next- long ride north.  Fun day.