Pipeline Crossroads of the World

Our bikes rattled down the road, leaving the small community of Osage, Oklahoma. We continued north along the river for a brief time when we came to an intersection of a nice, smooth, paved road.  We turned west, crossing over the Arkansas River, and entered the town of Cleveland.  Cleveland seemed much more interesting than our visit to the Osage park.

The route from Cleveland to Cushing contained straight, grid-type roads.  We rode due west for a while, then turned due south, then turned west again, adjusting until we found the road leading into Cushing.  The terrain was definitely the wide plains of Oklahoma.  We could smell some productive farmlands and see sections of pipeline and oil holding tanks.  

As we approach town, the fields become full of those large white oil-holding tanks.  A Welcome to Cushing sign and what appears to be some type of pipe sculpture mark the entrance to the town.  My hunger overrides my notion to stop to investigate the pipe sculpture and take photos of the sign. We continue into town with our eyes peeled for restaurants.  Our morning started early with a ride to Tulsa to repair Brad’s motorcycle.  Then I led us down a bumpy dirt road to find an abandoned park in Osage. It was time to eat.

We find a fantastic café and probably spent an hour talking with the staff.  We learned a little about the town.  At the café, someone told us that Cushing was known as the “Pipeline Crossroads of the World.”  The levels of oil in the holding tanks control the oil and gas prices on the stock market.  There were a few pipeline crossroad displays around town.  After our lunch experience, we followed directions to the nearest pipeline display.  It is noteworthy that the town has a lot of painted murals depicting older booming times of the town.

Dirt Road to Osage

The Route 66 Biker Rally is our basecamp this week. We arrived a few days early and have explored the surrounding areas.  There is another rally later in the year that takes place at a Sparks America Campground.  Brad and I rode out there to recon the campground.  The only person present was a woman riding a zero-turn lawn tractor at about 80 mph.  Grass shavings were flying around the fields.  She stopped long enough to give us an idea of how busy the campground gets during the motorcycle rally.  Boy, that lawn mower was fast!  

The next morning, we are at the Tulsa Harley-Davidson Dealership.  I believe Brad had to get something for his foot peg; something minor that he needed a part and he repaired it in the parking lot. 

Mission complete.  Brad’s Ultra Classic is ready to go.  I had been reviewing the paper map for a long route back to the Rt 66 Biker Rally Campground.  I found a park on my paper road atlas.  It was on the Arkansas River.  The route along the river seemed like a ride that promised some curves and river views. The road appeared to cross into the Osage Indian Reservation.  That might be neat to experience riding through a reservation.

We left Tulsa and navigated to the Arkansas River.  We followed the winding road north on the east side of the river.  The ride was going great at first.  Nice curves.  Some green vegetation.  The only river views were the first few miles after turning off the highway.  Then the paved road turned to a dirt road.  We slowed down.  Then the dirt road became rough.  Our bikes rattled down the dirt road and through the reservation.  The rattling became louder and we slowed the bike wondering if we should turn back.  I am thinking where am I leading us? Did I miss a turn? Am I lost? We stopped the bikes at what appears to be an abandoned small business.  Deterioration conceals whatever type of business it was; maybe a campground office.  We dismounted the dusty motorcycles to check the map and use the phone to verify our location.  No cell phone service.  I know Brad isn’t happy to be riding his touring Harley down a dusty dirt road.  At times it feels like we are about to fall through a crevice that will swallow our bikes.  Brad has no problem making a U-turn and heading back to safety.  I think he prefers it.  On the other hand, I avoid U-turns.  I am curious of where the road leads.  I have the urge to go just a bit further.  Brad obliged me in my quest to find this Osage park.  So we cautiously pressed on down the rough dirt road.  Both of us are watching our fuel gauges.  More dirt road.  No towns.  Then some pavement.  Then a house and a sign that says Osage!  I followed the sign.  We descended into a tiny community with about two dozen houses, a church, and a post office.  I recall seeing a man mowing his lawn with a push mower.  Another house we pass has a small junk yard or several projects in array.  We blinked and had already ridden from one end to the community and exited the other end.  I see the sign for Osage Point Park and feel better about navigating the previous long rough dirt road.  My motorcycle bucks. The pavement is buckled.  I brake before my bike throws me off.  The grass and saplings are over six feet tall, forming a green wall along each side of the road.  I swerve to avoid an upheaved part of the pavement.  An oncoming truck speeds towards us.  I can see the driver is just as surprised as I am that another vehicle is on this resemblance of a road.  Further down the road, I begin to see some water through the tall grass.  We get off our bikes and enjoy an open view of the river at an old boat ramp.  No one is around on either side of the water.  We take the moment to enjoy the sunshine.  I snap a few pictures, and we look at our paper map to form a place to ride to next.  Our stomachs have a big vote.  We decide that Cushing looks like a town big enough for us to find some eateries.  Now, if I can find our way out of this area without turning back down that rough dirt road. 

Wallaby and Yellow Truck

We just spent a week at the Great American Campground and Dive Bar at the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. Brad is driving the Rock Star Bus pulling our motorcycles on a trailer. Next stop, Depew, Oklahoma!  Why Depew? Because we are looking to experience a Route 66 Biker Rally. This one is scheduled for mid-June. We left the Redneck Revival in Iowa, had a fantastic layover at the Great American Campground and Dive Bar in Missouri, and now we are arriving in Oklahoma a few days before the Rt 66 Biker Rally.

Brad and I are rolling down the highway looking out the huge windshield of the Rock Star Bus.  We crossed the state line into Oklahoma sometime earlier that day. We are near Tulsa. Then out of nowhere, a toll booth appears! There was this old-timer manning the toll booth.  Somehow, this big rock star bus pulling motorcycles entered a tollway without a ticket.  The old-timer insisted on knowing where we were coming from.  Brad replied, “Missouri.”  Not the answer the old-timer was looking for.  He wanted to know where we entered the tollway.  We didn’t have a clue as far as we knew we were entering it now.  The exchange was a bit comical when the old-timer proclaimed we didn’t know where we were coming from, and he surely didn’t know where we were coming from. Brad said, “We know where we are going.”  “We are going to Depew for the Route 66 Motorcycle Rally.”  That got a big smile from the old-timer. Brad made some compromise on the toll fee, and we were granted access to keep moving forward.

We find the motorcycle rally event venue just outside the small town of Depew.  Brad navigated the rock star bus through the elaborate maze of a gate system.  We came to the checkpoint, and not a person was there.  We were days early.  Brad did make arrangements which granted us permission to arrive early.  So we stopped at the checkpoint to figure out which camping spot we need to set up in.

The signs let us know were were in the correct campground.  We got excited reading the paint brushed sign that read:

WARNING IF NUDITY OFFENDS OR ANNOYS YOU IN ANY WAY DO NOT ENTER

THIS FACILITY BY ENTERING YOU ARE AGREEING THAT NUDITY IS NOT OFFENSIVE NOR ANNOYING

The sign indicated this was going to be an entertaining biker rally!  There are plenty of campsites.  We ended up parking the bus against the big shed.  The shed is located near the stage and pond.  Brad leveled the rock star bus and got our camp on wheels set up. One of the maintenance men introduced himself and showed us around the large shed that Brad backed the rock star bus up to.  We had our own roll-up door and space for shade behind the RV.  The shed had about a dozen roll-up doors on each side of the building. It was dark inside since we were the only campers there and the other doors were closed. I took advantage of the dark area and adjusted the headlamp on my 2006 Street Glide.

The maintenance man hung out with me while I adjusted the headlamp. Then he said he had to get back to work.  He walked across from our campsite and began power washing this old yellow utility bucket truck. The letters US Army were stenciled on the side.  It appears to be an old truck purchased at a government auction.  I’ll tell you that must be the cleanest old bucket truck ever.  This guy power washed that truck twice a day for the first three days we were at camp.  Brad and I waved at the guy when we departed for our morning rides.  The guy would still be power washing the truck when we returned in late afternoon.  The maintenance guy said his boss was riding him to get that yellow truck clean.  We met his boss later.  Interesting business tactics!  The owner has a few wallabies running on the fenced property.  During a past performance, they paid a band with a wallaby!  Talk about bartering at its best!  These guys have some stories. The boss’s wife carries a wallaby around in a shopping bag!

Waitress Finger Shoots Brad

 

Brad enjoys telling a joke nearly everywhere we stop.  So I am going to start this week’s post with a joke.  It is about a young cowboy and his ice cream sundae. 

When Val was a young cowboy, he worked hard at the rodeo all summer.  He dreamed of riding in the rodeo one day.  He was brutally honest.  He worked hard at every thing he did.  Val, at the young age of 10, was serious about his transactions.  He’d walked past the ice cream parlor about a dozen times that summer.  There was a picture of a delicious ice cream sundae displayed in the window.  The thought of the sundae gave Val good motivation to keep working under the hot sun.  This eagerly anticipated day had finally come.  He earned some money and it was in his pocket.  Young Val, wearing his chaps, cowboy boots and large brimmed cowboy hat, strutted into the ice cream parlor.  He looked the waitress in the eye and told her he wanted an ice cream sundae.  The waitress asked if vanilla ice cream was okay.  Val said yes.  She asked if he wanted strawberries? Val said yes. The waitress followed up, “Do you want whipped cream and a cherry on top?” Val said “Yes, just like the one pictured in the window.”  The waitress asked, “Do you want me to to crush your nuts?” Val excitedly drew his cap guns and said, “Lady, do you want me to blow your tits off?”!!   Bada boom! 

The folks at the Great American Campground and Dive Bar gave us some great tips on the best motorcycle routes and places to eat that are perfect for motorcycle riders.  Armed with information on small diner choices, Brad and I left the campground and headed towards Cole Camp a small town in the rolling prairies.  The road to Cole Camp wound through the beautiful countryside, and it was a smooth ride.  Our motorcycles leaned into the turns, and the sun shone off the chrome, making everything look so shiny.  The temperature was starting to rise.  We enjoyed the cool air pockets as we rode through the green trees that shaded the road.  It was a relaxing ride approaching the middle of the day.

When we got to Cole Camp, the sun was high and the heat was on. The Classic Grill was the first restaurant we saw as we got closer to town.  I spotted a vintage yellow car parked next to the restaurant.  I didn’t manage to take a photo, but it was an antique car with those cool curved lines and a shiny chrome grill—obviously a symbol of the restaurant’s name, Classic Grill.  I knew we had to stop. 

Brad and I were happy to feel the cool air conditioning as we walked into the restaurant. We figured we’d grab an iced tea to cool off from the heat. It was a simple restaurant. The tables and chairs were sturdy and comfortable.  More than half the tables were full of people enjoying their meals.  This indicates that the food is great.  We were seated right away at a table.  As I walked to our table, I looked at the platters in front of folks eating.  The meals all looked delicious with big portions.  We also noticed an ice cream machine.  As we looked at the menus, we saw ice cream sundaes on the menu.  Neither of us was very hungry yet.  We wanted to take a break from the warming sunshine.  So Brad decided on ordering ice cream.

The joyful waitress greeted us at our table.  We ordered some iced tea. Then Brad ordered an ice cream sundae. The waitress terribly failed to conceal her surprise. She took a step backwards.  Her body began squirming like one of those inflatable stick men at a used car lot. You know the kind that wave in the air to get attention from folks passing by.  In a loud high pitched surprised voice, she exclaimed in a questioning tone, “you two big bikers are not going to have our big juicy hamburgers!!??”  She was animated and visibly surprised at our choices.  Brad matched the waitress’s enthusiasm.  It was a little comical as we attracted the attention of other customers in the restaurant.  Brad started laying it on thick with his order.  He declared we definitely want ice cream sundaes.  The order conversation went something like this;  

Waitress: Do you want a banana split?

Brad: No an ice cream sundae.

Waitress: Do you want vanilla ice cream?

Brad: Yes.

Waitress: Do you want strawberries?

Brad: Yes and whipped cream and a cherry on top!

The waitress follows up by asking Brad if he wants crushed nuts.  Brad excitedly exclaimed, “Lady, do you want”, the young enthusiastic waitress cut him off and pulled out her finger pistol.  She finished Brad’s sentence, “to shoot my tits off?!” Brad pulled out two finger pistols and gestured shooting at the happy waitress.  Both erupted in laughter.  I am sitting across the table from Brad with the waitress standing beside me.  Their finger pistols still smoking.  Myself the the other customers wonder what the heck just happened!  So Brad had to enlighten me by telling me the joke about the cowboy and the ice cream sundae.  Apparently the waitress has heard the joke a hundred times!

Texas Bar Rescue

Location Big Dick's Halfway Inn part 2 of 2

From part 1 at Big Dick’s Halfway Inn, Brad and I are looking at this bartender like we know her from somewhere.  We cannot figure out where.  This takes me back to a memory when I moved from California to Illinois.  I was in the garden section of Walmart early in the morning.  I was pushing my shopping cart around the garden supplies for my new yard.  I had just completed my first week at a new job and was introduced to what seemed like hundreds of people.  So here I am in the garden section pushing my shopping cart when a guy is staring at me like he knows me.  It seems like he wanted to say something.  After the second encounter, I begin to think that I am rude and maybe this guy recognizes me from my new job.  This stranger did look a little familiar, but I wasn’t positive if I met him at my new job.  So on the third time our shopping carts pass, the guy continues to look at me.  He does look familiar, so I approach the man and begin to form my words.  I am interrupted by this excited couple asking if the man was Mark Ruffalo, the actor.  This was during his romantic comedy era with the movie “13 Going on 30” starring opposite Jennifer Garner.  The guy confirmed he was the actor visiting the area to check up on some property.  The couple was excited to meet the actor. I immediately continued my shopping.  I guess it would have been a totally different conversation if I were to ask if he and I worked together.  Anyway, back to the Ozarks.

I finally tell the bartender that she looks familiar to me, but I cannot place where I might know her from.  She quickly responds that she remembers the two of us from Rocky Top Sports Bar and Grill a few days prior.  She was our bartender there.  Yes! Brad and I remembered.  That was the place we stopped on accident.  It was an invasion of the old folks!  The old folks came into the bar staring us down with their laser eyes.  This woman confirmed they were nice folks; we, the out-of-town folks, were sitting in their seats.  

Our bartender tells us how she moved to the Ozarks from Austin, Texas.  Her attire with a Texas pennant and something referencing Texas on her shirt made sense now.  She proceeded to tell us that she indeed went from being a bar owner in Texas to bartending at two separate bars at the Lake of the Ozarks.  She needed a change of scenery.  Then her husband arrived at the bar.  He sat beside us and joined in the conversations.  He is a chiropractor.  He talked about owning a bar in Austin.  He told us that the show, Bar Rescue, featured their bar!  He talked a little about the show and told us they sold the bar shortly after the show aired and moved to the Ozarks.  Brad found a short clip from the show.  We saw our bartender giving away drinks to her friends in Austin when the star Jon Taffer confronted her to tears.  Neat experience hearing about the challenges of bar ownership, the show, and the bar owners of the Ozarks.

Minnow Shot

Location: Big Dick's Halfway Inn part 1 of 2

Do you remember a few weeks ago I wrote about checking into the Great American Campground and Dive Bar? The camp host’s face turned red after Brad repeated what she had told us…in Brad’s funny logic anyway.  Brad said at the campground we were sandwiched between two dicks.  Sandwiched between two bars with Dick names.  Whiskey Dicks was a short ride one way and Big Dicks is a longer ride the opposite direction.  Brad and I rode to Big Dicks only to find it closed.  Despite us not checking business hours, the ride was a good one.  We found the Cup Tree and Shoe Fence that day.  Search past posts if you want to read our story of the Cup Tree and Shoe Fence.

We rode some winding country roads surrounded by trees to arrive at Big Dicks.  Big Dick’s Half Way Inn is on the water with piers for boat traffic to dock. It is the middle of the day, and not many cars or boats are in the parking areas.  We walk into the bar just in time to hear a young lady order a minnow shot.  As Brad and I choose our seats at the bar, we watch closely to learn more about this minnow shot.  A minnow is a small fish! There was an aquarium full of minnows behind the bar. Apparently, minnow shots are a thing here!  The young woman was standing at the bar watching her minnow shots being made.  The woman confirmed live fish were in the shot.  She began to tell us that she could feel the minnow swimming around in her stomach after the shot.  She carried the drinks off to join a small group sitting at a table overlooking the water.  Moments later, there were some loud cheers resulting from the minnow shots being drank.  

The bartender is friendly yet familiar.  Brad and I declined her offer of trying a minnow shot and ordered our iced teas.  The bartender told us more about how popular the minnow shot is among college-age customers.  She was fairly chatty, talking about the area.  I’ve been looking at her like I know her, but from where?

Fish Fry! Part 2 of 2 The Golf Course

Fish Fry Friday at the Indian Rock Golf Club - The Rock Bar and Grill!  Jim met us in the parking lot of The Rock Bar and Grill.  Jim and his wife recently retired from their careers in Utah and moved to Missouri.  Details of their first year in Missouri might be worth a story to share at a later date.  Strange drivers would pull up to their house and turn around; the garage was wired for a high-voltage greenhouse; the sheriff knows the house well; and a water pipe burst while they spent a month in Texas filling the first level full of somewhere upwards of 138,000 gallons of water - Jim knows exactly how many gallons because it is stated on his water bill!  Anyway, Jim and his dog drove a couple of hours to meet us for lunch.

Jim finds a good, cool, and shady spot for his dog in the parking lot.  We are slightly concerned about a dress code at the golf course bar and grill.  We were happy that our attire fit in just fine after entering the building.  Customers filled the bar stools and tables.  We found three empty bar stools at a corner of the U-shaped bar.  Fish Fry Friday, AKA Golden Fried Cod Dinner, was popular.  The waiter had to check with the kitchen to make sure there were enough fish for our orders.  The crowd at the bar was lively and funny.  Brad fit in with them really well, telling jokes and getting the whole bar involved.  I remember some loud laughter and a lot of smiles.  We learned a lot about the locals in the area too.  There was a discussion about storylines in the show Ozark.  People voiced some comparisons and similarities with real-life families and events.  We have to acknowledge that the Ozark was mainly filmed in Georgia, not Missouri.  The locals make that known up front.  

That fish fry was one of the best we’ve experienced.  It could have been the like-minded patrons at the bar.  It could have been because we got to catch up with Jim.  Jim is a Jimmy Buffett fan and had wanted to recon the Margaritaville Lake Resort at the Lake of the Ozarks.  So we checked the map and navigated to Osage Beach, where the resort is located.  I didn’t realize there would be so many buildings at the resort.  I ended up leading Brad through a parking garage entrance that said staff only.  We made U-turns with our loud motorcycles under the curious eyes of employees.  I found the hotel check-in area.  I didn’t want to be there.  I rode back to an intersection on the property with Brad following.  A security guard in a golf cart intercepted us.  I shut off my engine so I could hear him speak.  I explained where we were trying to find.  With some helpful directions, we ended up at the Land Shark Bar and Grill on the resort property.  Jim arrived a few moments later with no problem using his phone for navigation.  Oh, there was a parking spot labeled just for him.  I think it stated Reserved for Jimmy (Buffett) or something to the effect.  What are the odds Jim was able to find a reserved parking spot on a day when Brad and I circled twice looking for a spot to squeeze our motorcycles in?  

The Land Shark Bar was buzzing with activity.  People were inside, outside, on the beach, and pulling up on boats.  It seemed like a scene from the old Spring Break movie.  The bar was huge.  We found three stools and ordered our iced teas.  When I said the place was buzzing with activity, service employees were briskly walking about, taking orders, delivering food and drinks.  The bartenders’ feet stopped moving only long enough to grab a drink and set it down on the bar in front of a customer. The music was awesome; of course, it was Jimmy Buffett!  The restaurant had large glass windows overlooking the outdoor deck with tables, the beach, and the marina.  It was a fantastic view to include all the pretty people moving about outside.  We took in the sights, enjoyed our drinks, and called it a day.  Jim had to get back on the road.  Brad and I returned to the Great American Campground. It was a great day!

Fish Fry! Part 1 of 2 Invasion of the Old People!

Part 1 of 2 Invasion of the Old People 

Brad and I have very few rules while underway on our motorcycle adventures.  We agree upon a general direction.  I take the role of navigator.  Brad has the ideas to keep us moving and not sitting idle too often.   It works well.  Breakfast.  Breakfast is an unspoken rule.  We do not eat breakfast before a long ride.  We ride long to breakfast but we don’t eat and ride long.  Why? Why because Brad will fall asleep.  Yes, he falls asleep or zones out on the motorcycle.  One of the first instances was riding through the Wind River Range in Wyoming.  The road was smooth.  Temperatures warm.  Sun glistening off the river that meandered along the road.  Beautiful part of the country.  I am taking in the views, learning around the curves, enjoying an awesome morning ride.  Brad is right behind me in my side view mirror.  We stop at a diner and I ask about how his eyes and glasses adjusted in the tunnels.  He replied, “what tunnel?” There were tunnels!  I asked if he saw the slow moving train riding along with us as we went through a tunnel?  Brad replied, “what train?”  I was puzzled, I watched his headlamp in my side view mirror.  He was behind me on the same route at the same time.  How could he miss these scenes?  He was sleeping! Zoned out!  Brad admitted it happens quite a bit when we ride together after breakfast.  So no more breakfast before long rides!

Oh, the fish fry.  Brad is a creature of habit.  He enjoys a good fish fry once a week.  While on the road we uphold his desire for a fish fry.  So we ask for recommendations for a fish fry from anyone we speak with.  Brad learns of two promising locations.  The American Legion and a bar called The Rock.  We stop by the American Legion and learned that their fish fry was later in the week or is cancelled for some reason.  We get directions to The Rock.  I remember most of the directions and put on my navigator helmet and we ride on a recon mission finding the location of the fish fry.  I check the map, estimate the mileage and we ride down the road.  As we get close to where I think the place should be, I see many side roads are gravel.  I have to slow down to negotiate a gravel turn from fast. I see the turn but the sign read something about a Golf Course.  I was looking for a bar, The Rock.  I slowed to be ready to turn when around the curve there was a bar on the opposite side of the road. I turned in to check the phone map.  We were at Rocky Top Sports Bar and Grill. It wasn’t the place we were looking for.  We decided to go inside anyway.  The bartender was just opening up but wasn’t ready to serve anyone.  We declared that we just wanted iced tea and refuge from the heat.  So she allowed us to sit at the bar and gave us some iced tea.  She returned to prepare the bar for customers.  Once she is finished, she assumes her position behind the bar, tops off our iced tea and participates in small talk with us.  We learn there is a place called the Rock Bar and Grill at the Golf Course.  So her information confirmed that we know where to turn when we return for the scheduled fish fry.  

Brad and I finished up our drinks and was about to leave the bar.  Several customers one after another begin to enter the back door.  It was like a bus just parked and customers were in single file line exiting the bus and into the bar.  The first few folks were just a little older than us.  They sat at the right side of the U-shaped bar.  Some other folks sat on the left side of the bar.  Brad and I were at the bottom of the U-shape and closer to the left side.  We chat with both groups.  Everyone seemed friendly.  There was a group of women hosting an out of town guest. They stopped in Rocky Top before heading off to visit a winery.  Not sure what the folks at the other end of the bar were doing.  A man, a little older than Brad and I, was buying beer for his group.  That group was not responsive to small talk.  Brad and I decided to close out our ice tea tab when the door opened again and a line of silver haired old folks walk through the door.  They might have been twenty years or more older than us.  Their silver hair was kept neatly.  All walked in with purpose.  Their presence was known. Their eyes had lasers burning holes in my and Brad’s head.  Three sets of laser eyes were fixed upon our heads as the group walked the length of the right end of the bar.  The unwelcoming group turned walking towards us.  Their eyes fixed and burning holes in us.  They turn and find tables behind us.  Despite the laser eyes burning holes in my head, I felt a chill.  What had happened?  Curiosity caused us to ask the bartender who was busy serving another round to the wine tour crowd.  The bartender told us to pay them never mind.  She said the ladies are regulars and we are sitting in their seats.  Whoa!  With those looks we didn’t want them behind us.  So we finished cashing out and left.  This place was for locals and some didn’t like tourist sitting in their seats!