God Bless Texas

This morning outside Little Rock was a contradiction to a guideline I normally observe, but which turned out to be of no real consequence whatsoever. Somewhere along the line, I picked up some sound advice regarding overnights:  It's always easiest to find a place near a large city, but if you do, go through to the other side the night before, so you're heading *out* of rush hour traffic in the morning instead of in.  I know, I say this all the time in here. Humor me. Anyway, today, I had not done this. 
My plan for Little Rock was to go through downtown, which often is not as bad as it sounds compared to the major interstates and/or beltways, and Little Rock is another place I'd never been.  But staying where I did, I found some nice takeout Mexican in a mini strip mall at the exit, which was a nice bonus, and by the time I got my ass in gear in the morning, it was damn near 9:00 anyway.  So, no pain.

Yesterday afternoon, I had convinced myself that I was getting a sore throat and was already getting the COVID two days in, and a day before even making it to Texas.  (Them West Virginia fellers don't give a shit about no masks or nothin'.)  Having plenty of time to myself to think, which one does when alone on the road for 10 or more hours a day, I came up with a two-part plan:  1) find a drugstore and get a thermometer; take temperature morning and night, and 2) if it starts reading high, get a hotel near a Harley dealer and reasonably near a care facility of some sort, and be prepared to ride it over there for storage if the situation deteriorates.  But, take into account the day's heat when timing the evening reading.

Paris, TX

With 98.2 degrees showing after my morning streteches, I was out and off into downtown Little Rock.  I found my way through, and got on the interstate for one more stint before returning for a few days to my preferred mode of travel: the old US highways.  I soon got off onto US-70 West toward Hot Springs, and then had an "oh shit" last-second bailout onto a ramp to stay on US-70 just outside town.  This actually was a mistake, and it prevented me from seeing a place I'd wanted to putt through (but not enough to reroute for.)  A few small towns and one left turn onto US-287 later, and there I was back in Texas.  I stopped in Paris for a poker chip and a quick ride to the Eiffel Tower, and before long was in ranch country mowing down some rural miles and sweating my ass off.  Rain was never really a question today, even with the 95-degree heat.

A need for an afternoon break became the beginning of today's funny story.  I've been really trying hard to avoid contact this whole trip, and have actually walked out of places that were crowded with mask-shunning independent thinkers.  Riding the interstate made this a little more difficult, and actually inadvertently showed me how much you can be fooled as to just where you are.  Normally, I'm on some US or state highway, and thinking to myself, "Jesus, kid, you're out in the middle of nowhere."  But on the interstate, even though it's a long way between exits sometimes, there's almost always traffic, and people doing their thing at the gas stations and McFooderies.  But at the intersection of US-60 and Farm-to-Market Route 1244, not so much.

Anyway, I passed up what surely was a fantastic German meal in Muenster, TX due to it being indoors, and stopped for a cooldown and a Flurry at a DQ

Henrietta, TX

in the middle of nowhere where I was the only customer.  Not long after getting back on the bike, I spied a supercar-looking thing that upon closer inspection turned out to be a new C8 Corvette.  I always keep my camera handy, and I pulled up alongside on the 4-lane highway and snapped off a couple photos.  The passenger lady saw my antics, and I gave her the thumbs up. She smiled and waved.

45 minutes later outside Wichita Falls, I find my Holiday inn, check in, and come out of the lobby to start unpacking the bike under the canopy, and what has pulled up and parked 5 feet in front of me?  Right. The same Corvette. So her husband and I had a  nice little conversation about expensive toys, and I got a quick tour of Chevrolet's newest mid-engined marvel.  They have two trunks.  He wasn't in love with the color, but he waited 18 months for it and had to fly to Hendrick's in South Carolina to get it, so it is what it is.  It will get dirty eventually anyway, and so he'll get a different one. I totally get that.