Riding Green Girl - Summer of 2010: June 17, 2010 Day 12 – Munday, Mankins, Markers, & Sherman…yippee

I awoke to the sound of domestic bliss gone wrong this morning. Seems like papa hadn’t been watering the Motel City plants on schedule and herself was supremely pissed. The managers are most likely from Indonesia somewhere and even though her squawking wasn’t easy to understand I got the message. So did her hubby and he got cracking into that watering thing right away.

After a breakfast consisting of two left-over chicken fajitas I’d acquired yesterday I loaded up Green Girl and lit out for the nearest gas station. Last night I’d rolled in on fumes, or at least that’s what the gage was saying. Turns out it’s not always spot on so I tend to fill up whenever I’m down to a half tank.

While I was fueling up the guy at the opposite pump ambled over for a closer look at the bike. I could tell he was talking to me so I pointed at my helmet and said “Ear plugs, you’ll have to speak up.” He did and at the same time slowed down to one-word-at-a-time thank you. Then he’d pause like they do in those live foreign news telecasts which was actually kind of entertaining.

I liked the guy’s style plus he had really funny looking ears so it was an overall good experience. He wanted to know who made Green Girl so I pointed to the Kawasaki script on the tank and he got very interested, asked LOTS OF TECHNICAL QUESTIONS REAL LOUD AND SLOW pausing at the end and then asking “CAN YOU HEAR ME ALRIGHT?”

Fortunately Green Girl’s fuel tank only holds 5 gallons so I motioned I was done and had a meeting with the Emperor of Texas and didn’t want to be late. He nodded understanding completely, and waved as I pulled out. Nice guy. Bet he has lots of friends. Probably rides a Vespa.

Knox City isn’t far from the town of Munday and I stopped to shoot pics of the Time/Temperature sign on the local bank. It was going to be another hot ride from the looks of things.

Munday is another small Texas agricultural town so there’s lots of farm machinery around, some of it coming right at you. I like the way most of the guys look out for you, unlike our logging truck drivers at home. Those guys will kill you on the way to our local coffee shop. Or maybe it's the tavern?

Munday's main drag thisaway...

Munday's main drag 'tutherway

Riding along on highway 277 in a northeasterly direction I came to the small wide spot in the road known as Mankins, home of the now defunct D. S. Dudley Show, billed as a Wild West Circus. The Texas Historical Commission folks stated the current crop of Dudleys are still hard at it but I could see no evidence to support that and since the sign was put up in 1974 I think they’re all past tense now. Like maybe ded...

Just in case you're lost

Low maintenance has it's price

This would be the Wild West Circus lot

Where the Dudley's were last seen

If Green Girl could whinny I think she would

Anyway it’s fun to read about events and people and I continue to stop whenever I spot a marker. In fact it wasn’t far from Mankins when I saw another one coming up but when I looked in my mirror there was a white car following rather closely. I wanted to stop and read the marker but the guy was really crowding me so I flew by the site and as I did so realized he was one of Texas’s finest giving me the eyeball. “Ah hell” I thought, "may as well test the water" and threw on my blinker and made an abrupt stop on the shoulder. Very abrupt indeed, the kind that tend to startle those following too close. Evidently it was close to his donut fix time and he buzzed on by giving me the “gotcha” look. That’s OK with me as long as I don’t need to autograph anything. When he’d disappeared I turned Green Girl around and headed back to the marker.

It looked interesting enough but as I was dismounting I heard the familiar woof-woof-woof of a chopper overhead. God I’m getting paranoid, I actually thought for a moment it was someone from the border patrol coming to visit with me. Not today it seems as he woof-woofed onto whatever donut shop provides a heli-pad.

There be ghosts out there...

Hey, art is art right?

The site was informative per the history of the Montague County area and its relationship to the old Chisholm Trail, something I find particularly romantic in a cowboy movie sort of way. I wanted to shoot a really fine photo of another Texas wild flower but the selection was a bit limited so I did the best I could. I like thistles.

By mid-afternoon I figured I’d hang it up early today and started the hunt for lodging. Well actually I didn’t hunt, Garmin & Company did the hunting and all I did was ride the bike. In this case the Sherman Inn located in Sherman – where else? – won the draw and I was unpacking my gear at 3:45pm, local time.

That’s another thing I should carp about, this time thing is driving me nuts as I left my watch at home so I’m usually thinking it’s earlier by a couple of hours than it is. For instance I called Linda the other night and had to let the phone ring a really long time before she answered. I could tell by her sleepy voice I’d probably made a minor error in the time thingy. Good thing she’s so forgiving and also that I’m far enough away she can’t get at me…

The Sherman Inn is home to a divergent assemblage (like that word?) of clientele, many of whom appear to belong to the working class, unlike myself. Being of a frugal mind I took advantage of my early check-in time to catch up on a bit of laundry which I draped all over Green Girl to dry. This time it involved a lot more than a token pair of socks, this time I went for the whole wardrobe. Notice I refrain from using the phrase "the whole enchilada"? I can be politically sensitive some times. One of my Mexican neighbors found this particularly entertaining as the women folk are supposed to do the laundry, right amigo?

Then he and his buddies started up a barbeque behind one of their pickups and stood around gargling beer down, all the while probably discussing the guy next door doing his own laundry. Arghh! At least I’ll have clean gear to wear tomorrow, right?

All of that great smoky barbeque smell wafted my way every time I went outside so I finally weakened and hoofed it on over to the restaurant next door. They have a seniors menu that sounded deceptively good and I opted for the shrimp dinner, fully expecting a much smaller portion than what arrived. The main entre` was only $4.99 and included the works, salad, rolls, 21 shrimp, big ol’ spud slathered with butter & sour cream, and a side of pinto beans. Naturally I made a complete fool of myself and ate damn near everything they slid in front of me. Wouldn't want to insult the cook, right?