Bad golfers keep playing golf because once a year they make one really great shot - then they tell themselves that if they did it once, they can do it again. They put up with all the bad shots as they wait for next really great shot.
The ride from my sister's house in Huntsville, AL, to Columbus, GA was like that - it was the kind of day that makes up for the nasty rainy days. This was a ride made in motorcycle heaven.
(As always, if this picture is a little too small, just click on it and a larger version will appear.)
A left turn at Gadsden, Alabama, put me on a wonderful two-lane road towards Georgia. In one area, I must have some distant relatives living there. Besides this church, there was also a Youngs Farm Road and a Youngs Station Road. I know some of the critics reading this will want to admonish me for the lack of an apostrophe, but look at the sign - it is "Youngs", not "Young's."
There was little traffic - just the occassional pickup truck - but the scenery was great. Nice curvy roads cutting through idyllic farms. Alabama morphed into Georgia, but I could scarcely tell the difference. The speed limit was a comfortable 55 mph, but I rode even slower than that - just to enjoy the view, the sun and the road.
Riding is hungry work. I try to eschew the chain fast-food joints so I found the Smokin' Pig barbeque place in Bowden, Georgia. The only thing better than the food was the slow Southern drawl of the waitress as she asked "Whatcha want, honey?" I fielded a few friendly comments about my unusual ride, then one of the older men noticed the Purple Heart tags on the bike and I was bombarded with "Welcome Home" from many of the other patrons. Nice people in Bowden, Georgia.
As you travel southern back roads, you see lots of small churches tucked into the trees. This one is typical, and notice the year of it's founding. This is a conservative land of slow change - and the people rely on their faith a lot. As I stopped to take the photo, I wondered what it would be like to attend a worship service at one of these small rural churches.
Then on to Columbus. My ride was for fun, but it is also to bring me to a reunion of the men I served with in Vietnam - the men of Company C, 2nd Battalion 5th Cavalry, 1st Cavalry Division. I am intensely proud to be associated with these fine men. Yes, we're a step slower these days, and at each reunion, I see more canes and wheelchairs, but these are men who are proud of their service and are thankful they are getting older. Old age is a gift denied to some of the men we knew many years ago.
I'll be back on the road on Sunday - taking a different route home.