Great American Campground and Dive Bar! Part 1 of 2

Part 1 of 2 Checking in and the Sandwich

   Brad made reservations at The Great American Campground and Dive Bar because it is near the Lake of the Ozarks.  Our plan is to have a good RV camping location so we could have daily rides around the lake and surrounding area.  It is an unfamiliar area, which we agreed to explore.  Gravois Mills was also about the halfway point from Conesville, Iowa, to Depew, Oklahoma.  We have Depew marked on our road atlas because we plan to go to the Rt. 66 Motorcycle Rally there during the following week. 

  We arrived at the Great American Campground and Dive Bar in the late afternoon.  It had a pretty decent-sized RV camp area.  We checked in.  A few campers remained after the Memorial Day weekend.  The campground was full during the holiday weekend. There is a centralized shower and bathhouse. Facilities were very clean and well taken care of.  We were told there are plans to expand the facilities with cabins around the pond. There was an outside and inside bar.  There is a stage outside for the bands and a large custom fire pit in the seating area.  The host checked us in and gave us the lay of the land.  We discovered that besides the Dive Bar, there was a bar named Whiskey Dicks down the road in one direction.  In the opposite direction, there was a bar named Big Dicks.  Brad proclaimed that we were sandwiched between two dicks.  The camp host turned a little red with embarrassment of Brad’s observation.  Hey, we didn’t come up with the names.  Makes us wonder what is on folks’ minds around here! 

  Brad and I usually park the bikes and walk to a bar and restaurant for the evening and walk back.  This lets us have a drink without risking a motorcycle accident.  The location is fantastic as a basecamp with easy access to adventurous ride routes for our motorcycle rides. The location is not so good for walking off the campgrounds.  There are no sidewalks.  It is a rural area which we like.  The two-lane road has a blind hill and high speed limit that isn’t very safe for pedestrians.  Regardless of the verbal warnings voiced by our host, we decided to walk the road to Whiskey Dicks, which is the closest of the two bars.  The Great American Dive Bar wasn’t open every night of the week.  We discovered some local restaurants and bars alternated open days in order not to take customers from each other.   Possibly a concept many will not understand until they visit and discover for themselves.  Brad and I begin our walk to Whiskey Dicks. 

Check back next week for Part 2. Whiskey Dicks!

  

Trailering from Iowa to Missouri

  Brad is driving the Rock Star Bus and pulling our motorcycles. Once upon a time, we observed what was referred to as “trailer queens.” Motorcycles being pulled on a trailer instead of being ridden. In those younger days, I looked at the motorcycles on trailers, mumbling to myself that the bikes are built to be ridden. I failed to consider why the older guys chose to trailer their bikes.  I am sure they had their reasons.  Fast forward two decades later, Brad and I are discussing plans for the upcoming year.  We have a revelation. Hey, those old guys trailering their bikes were onto something.  It is much more comfortable to be able to place the motorcycle on a trailer and travel safely inside a cage out of the weather.  An extra bonus is that we have space for our comfort gear.  Besides, after all the miles we’ve ridden together, we have nothing to prove.  We do what makes sense to us. 

  First stop is near the Lake of the Ozarks.  Travel is much easier when Brad plans ahead for where we are going to park the Rock Star Bus.  Not sure of the length of the bus, but there are two bathrooms and bedrooms onboard.  A full kitchen, washer and dryer, liquor cabinet, and food pantry.  Brad calls the bus a diesel pusher.  I just know it is pulling a trailer loaded with our motorcycles.  We ended up at a new to us place called The Great American Campground and Dive Bar in Gravois Mills, Missouri.  I think Brad was sold on the name alone!

Redneck Revival Conesville, Iowa

 

  In May of 2023, Brad and I met at the Redneck Revival.  Conesville, Iowa provides a spot we can easily find each other. Brad travels from Utah, and I’ve been traveling from Virginia lately. In our early years on the motorcycles, we used to select a town that is halfway on a major highway.  The final meeting selection is usually made the morning of arrival.  We’d declare that the first person to the midpoint town will find a place that is easily recognized.  Usually, it will be a restaurant where the first person can relax with an iced tea while waiting for the other person. Exit numbers and cross streets near a maw and paw restaurant allowed us to give each other solid directions.  Consider that we were riding motorcycles with paper maps.  We do have cell phones.  Calling and reading text messages are limited to fuel stops or quick stops to peek at the map.  We discovered a stretch of I-80 in New York where the east and west exit numbers did not match! Brad was waiting for me at a fuel station off a specific exit number. I was heading in the opposite direction and took the exit number that Brad identified. I checked three gas stations and found no Brad.  After several missed calls, we made contact on the phone. After a confusing “do you see the …” - “nope, do you see the … I am parked beside it” conversation, we decided to displace a few miles west of town at a rest area that we saw on the map. While Brad is waiting for me at the rest area, he spoke to a truck driver who told him the westbound and eastbound exit numbers were not labeled the same in this area. We did find each other at the rest area.  People are often amazed at how we can ride hundreds of miles and find each other in a strange town. Sure, at Conesville, we have to ride through the camping areas looking around, but it doesn’t take long to find each other. 

  This year the Redneck Revival seems like a blur to me.  There were a few good live bands, loud music, dancing, campfires, and Daryl’s Buffalo Trace. Daryl had to give me a ride in his golf cart to my hammock.  Not sure how the minibike I was riding early in the night made it home.  Good to have good friends who look out for each other and keep us safe.

  After the Redneck Revival, we loaded our motorcycles on a trailer and drove the Rock Star Bus to the Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri! 

Noteworthy Events Missouri 2022

Noteworthy Events Missouri Rides 2022

Hannibal turned out to be an excellent town to serve as a basecamp. Brad and I had some beautiful scenic rides. We enjoyed viewing the Mississippi River, Mark Twin Lake, rock cliffs, a lock and dam on the river, and several small restaurants with excellent food.  The town of Hannibal had a small town square that seemed to have nightly events during the summer. There was a night for classic cars and hot rods to cruise the boulevard.  Neat place to visit. 

Brad and I rode on both the Missouri and the Illinois sides of the Mississippi River.  We rode as far south as St. Louis and visited an old military friend, Alan.  We rode west around Mark Twain Lake, where Mark Twain’s birthplace had a monument.  The lake was pretty clear with few boats on the water.  The feeling was a little eerie comparing the lake to Lake of the Ozarks.  Unfortunately, as time passes, the land around the lake will ultimately be developed. 

From the RV basecamp, Brad and I developed a routine.  We’d depart the campground around 7:30 each morning for our motorcycle ride. First stop is to fuel up in town, then ride a few hours and find a small town for lunch.  Then we consult our road atlas for a route to return to camp for evening chow.  Which at this time was leftover fajitas from Conesville, Iowa! 

Gas Station Madness. It was a small gas station with two islands and four pumps. Brad and I stopped at this gas station two consecutive mornings. No traffic. Easy to fuel up and get on the road. The third morning was borderline chaotic. There was a line of vehicles lined up at the pump and in the street.  It was difficult to identify the vehicles that were finished fueling and trying to exit to the street. This is because a couple of vehicles tried to circle the pump island to stop on the desired side of the pump. After a brief observation, there was a vehicle clearly leaving the pump, giving me an opportunity to pull beside the pump.  I began fueling.  Brad was awaiting his opportunity. He zipped around a pickup truck further from the pumps that was stopped.  We couldn’t identify the driver’s intentions. Brad began fueling at the pump in front of me. That pickup truck parked at the opposite side of the pump from me.  The driver exited the vehicle and walked to the bed of the truck and began throwing things around.  The alarms went off in my head. This driver was pissed at Brad for zipping around him. I looked at Brad and smiled.  I gripped the handle of the fuel pump just in case the situation escalated.  The man cursed to himself and was visibly heated but did not make any advance toward Brad or me. 

During one return route, I spotted a historical gas station complete with old signs and vintage vehicles.  We stopped our motorcycles near the old garage and started admiring the antique trucks outside. A gentleman approached us from inside the garage. He declared the place private property, not open for public. He had purchased the property and was turning it into a campground. 

Riding to St. Louis to have lunch with Alan. A jeep aggressively crossed three lanes of travel and came inches from colliding with me on my motorcycle. 

Ice cream trouble. We were riding on the east side of the Mississippi River in Illinois. We stopped at a small, convenient store with fuel pumps.  There were about four parking spots against the side of the building and four spots away from the building at the edge of the paved area. Brad and I parked in the first spot against the building because it was shaded. It was a hot day. We went inside to get a drink and ended up with ice cream. We stood in the parking lot near our motorcycles, eating the ice cream.  A woman parked on the opposite side of the parking spaces near the grass, not the building.  She walked by us angrily, stating that we took her parking spot. All the other spots were empty. We were the only customers present. She was angry and let us know it.  After she departed, Brad and I were still puzzled. We thought maybe it was a local who simply liked her spot.  Then I spotted it.  Faded on the black asphalt parking lot was a very faint outline of a handicap symbol. You have to concentrate to see it. There was no other posting, such as a sign on the building or anything.  I imagine the woman wanted the once-upon-a-time handicap spot. Even with that theory, we wondered why the woman didn’t park beside us near the entrance. Instead, she parked at the spot the furthest from the entrance to the store. We still don’t know.  It was the same day that the pickup driver got angry at the fuel pump. 

On a more positive note, Brad and I found ourselves fueling at a larger, more modern fuel station. Dark clouds were forming in the distance. In many cases, we fuel our motorcycles, then share a parking spot away from the pumps.  This allows us to use the toilet, check the paper map, and drink or eat a snack while we are stopped. It is courteous not to block the fuel pumps. Anyway, a woman parked next to us in a full-size pickup truck.  She doesn’t hesitate.  She asks us to close the bed over on her truck bed. It was one of those folding covers. She wanted it closed before the storm came.  This happened on the same day as the guy was angry at the gas station in the morning, and the woman was angry while we ate ice cream in the afternoon.  We were skeptical but glad to do a good deed.