My regular bike was on the stand awaiting a new tire.
Mz Guzzi stuck her head out from under her cover and winked.
I didn't know if I could take the waves of memories that
would wash over me on yet another ride astride this 11 year old living
piece of Italian motorcycle history dressed in her Ferrari Red
evening dress. Would there be vindication for my unfaithfulness,
neglect and letting her be used by another. My guilt cannot
be expressed in words which fully reflect its magnitude.
No. She seemed to let bygones be bygones.
It was a thrilling outing despite my dependance on trains.
She flew. No, I swear she became airborne as we wound
through 4 of her 5 clunky gears. Fifth was never used
as it doesn't come into play until after 80 mph.
Obviously, I had a good time because I seem to be "carrying on".
Cade is the starting gate. There's always a horse in the chute.
It seemed stuck so I took a shot of Mz Guzzi just to make
her feel that nothing had changed between us. I hadn't
parked her in that position. Had she turned her back on
me since I was off taking senseless pictures of tracks?
I returned and we rode north to see what the deal was with the train.
This one had 11 engines. Had the railroads gotten tired of my decisive
victories in all of our races, thus this behemoth? I laughed.
I had brought an Italian mare, not quite an Italian Stallion, but close.
She has 1064 cc's and all seemed to be ready.
The monster slowly rolled forward as if challenging us. Mz G grunted
and shook as only a V engine sitting sideways can.
Look at this, just look at it!!
It was like the Pinkerton's attempt at catching Butch and Sundance.
The train company had sent the stable.
On her own she whipped around and smoked the tire.
Oh my goodness!! We were airborne, her hooves levitating
above the blacktop.
Then the beasts slowed. Was there a problem Mr. Dispatcher?
I'd imagined the oncoming train to be a little dismayed.
The engineer from the other train asked if all those engines
were necessary. Multiple engineers answered, "yes, if we
are going to beat Steve".
The passing continued.
Slowly
Mz Guzzi said she liked the black horse and made neighing noises.
They were gone. She seemed to refocus.
Then the beasts made their move. They would take advantage
of New Iberia where we'd have 10 stop lights and they would have none.
I caught them east of Jeanerette.
They were moving. Had I made a mistake coming here?
I got onto the four lane and lit it up for Bayou Sale. I'd wait
there for them to show up. Surely we had beat them here.
If we hadn't, I'd hoped they would be delayed at Bayou Sale. I think
they high-balled straight through. Man, there were 11 engines
on a short train!! Can you imagine of what it was capable?
Quiet seclusion at Bayou Sale, one of my favorite places.
Either there had been a problem or they had done us a number.
It was getting late. The bank clock in Franklin said almost
5:00 PM and 98F. We were fine having sat in the shade, drank
and talked waiting for what was probably a bygone train.
Eleven engines?
I guess they wanted to make a point and did.
The weather was closing in on us. Now we were the ones being chased.
We moved on to lovely Franklin. I was very very relaxed until
my face shield came lose and I couldn't get it to reattach. Finally
I broke the new mechanism which I had felt was a Chinese
rip off replacement and didn't work to begin with.
The Saturday afternoon replacement service for Sunday morning
church service was in full swing. That way, parishioners can really
mess up on Saturday night and not worry about that troublesome
Sunday church service, sitting in the pews all nauseated and stinking
of whiskey and what not. It's legal, why not?
No, most were there because they had to mow the grass at
the camp on Sunday or go riding. I took an exit poll.
A relic of another old service station sits on the right. It
is now an auto glass shop.
At Berwick I checked the weather again.
Down there is the old rail bridge. There was no sign of the beasts.
Below are remnants of a sugar mill standing at Adeline
where the Missouri Pacific left the companionship of the
Southern Pacific and went on the Charenton and Irish Bend
tour before ending up in Franklin and riding alongside the SP
on down to Garden City where they joined.
In New Iberia:
I keep waiting for a glimpse of Lt. Robicheaux or Percel
or the jailers. I've seen some of the other characters. Come
on trial day.
Yea, I went by the depot. It's my thing. The girls were sitting
around drinking beer after a hard week's work. Can you
blame them?
One offered to spike my drink. I accepted.
I am so proud of the Louisiana and Delta Railroad. They really
have the old depot looking great, I mean great!! There were
once weeds all around the building, now fresh limestone dresses
it up.
We decided to call it a day, but not the end of picture taking.
I'd fire away as we ran down Duchamp Road. I'd park and
try for some descent shots of the bayou. I've seen better here.
Looking back west.
Down at the bayou.
Now on the last remnants of the Coteau Ridge, we'd head east
down into the Atchafalaya Basin, presently occupied by the Teche,
once occupied by the Mississippi.
From there I rode the always busy Terrace Road into the
outskirts of St.Martinville and on to True Friend Road.
That hump is over the old Southern Pacific rail ROW.
Last Picture: The Teche at Goulas Store. This time of afternoon
is always good for a pretty picture. That's it.
