The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

---

I was snoozing away at full speed this morning when it was abruptly interrupted by some rather loud thunder, has the American People yet again made a revolution and are they now manning the barricades?

Nope it was a a normal run of the mill thunder storm with some rather heavy rain, what a way to start a day, well it finished after an hour or son.

I did not have any pressing engagements with nubile wenches clad in shimmering semite anyway so I sat it out together with all the other guys riding bikes in this heavenly part of the world.

Yesterday I went over to the Mexican restaurant across the road for dinner, I got an American portion that was far too large so I got a doggy bag.

Almost all the hotels and motels have fridges and micro wave ovens, very nice, that is if you have your own cutlery and plates.

I trotted over to the Big Sea Gull, but with what they had for breakfast I'd rather stay hungry.

So I had cold fajitas, rice and frijoles (beans) for breakfast, eaten with my fingers, not half bad.

A bit later I went with my neighbours to a breakfast place where the waitress was taking the piss , as I wanted water and she only had "wader," we all got a good laugh out of that.

And a veggie omelette, no pancakes, no bacon, and no coffee, coffee I like but brown "wader" is a no no.

The sun came out and I went for a long ride , the first stop was in a village called Helen, a village with ambitions of being in Bavaria instead of in Georgia.

Germanesque buildings and even a Hofbräuhaus with fat ladies in dirndls.

Another nice long day worth of riding in between and around and over the mountains.

The next day was the same, just riding around and enjoying the very fact that every corner was a new one.

The Harley people are funny, some of them can hardly ride a bike, going around corners at a snails pace. Being America most corners have a speed limit or at least a suggestion of an appropriate speed, you can easily double that, but when they slow down and creep around the corners, it gets a bit boring when you're behind them.

They all have very loud pipes, maybe mucho noise= speed.

Today I went to Alabama, to the Barber motorcycle and motor sports museum, very very nice.

I got a shitty dinner at the local Holiday Inn, how can you fuck up a burger? The very staple on which this country lives?

Breakfast sucked as well, after having watched the weather report and discussed it with a gentleman at the next table I decided that heavy storms and much rain was nothing I really craved so out went the Ozark mountains and I did a little detour and spent most of the day on Natchez trace some kind of old indian ( the guys with the arrows) that have been made into a parkway. Very well kept and nice , but no curves so it became a bit tedious after a while, disregarding the speed limit made it a faster alternative to the highways, not one single red light, Yay!

I'm spending the night at the outskirts of Jackson in a not very fancy Motel 6 and tomorrow New Orleans and then to Dallas, soon it's time for the fat lady to sing, snif.

I was in a bit of luck though as the dingy motel was next door to a restaurant that served me one of the nicest meal I've had in the US.

The next day got me to New Orleans, on the way there I got my third puncture ever but I was lucky because I really had not done more than getting my jacket off and my tools out when a bloke stopped and asked if I need help.

So I said yest please and he went home and got a real air compressor so that we could pump up the tyre, we did but It kept losing air quickly and we could not find the leak.

A bloke on a Harley had stopped as well to se if he could be of help, we got the bike up on a trailer and went down the road to some redneck garage.

The bloke with the car had brought me a cold drink, it's nice that there are still angels out there, solidarity amongst bikers.

The redneck patched my tyre and all was well and I got to N'awlins a couple of hours later.

I had booked myself a room downtown close to the touristy stuff, Burbuon street, where all the beautiful people go.

It's an old French town with all the elegance of the old days, very nice but it's just a big tourist trap, where you walk up and down the streets and check out all the bars and all the weirdos and there are many of both.

After having realised that another knee operation would be a good thing to do ASAP I limped back to the hotel and made the brewery shares go up a bit.

I enjoyed my luxury room for a bit and then got directions to a restaurant with a BYO policy and I made a little detour and brown bagged another upturn in the brewery shares.

Being an avid reader of novels, some of which take place in the southern part of the US, I'd read about catfish and gumbo.

It was now time to test reality, the gumbo is some concoction like a casserole with sausage, quite alright but catfish not so much to write home about.

Curiosity having been satisfied and the brown bags content now inside my stomach my I left the restaurant and set forth into the streets of N'awlins.

Lots of people watching other people watching them, just like Khao San road in Bangkok with the difference that the food in Bangkok is better and the beer cheaper.

The next day after a hearty breakfast it was time to point he front wheel in the direction of Dallas, some 850 km ahead.

I got onto the Interstate to get the suburban quagmire on the double, the low fuel warning light came on with no petrol station in sight, I got off the interstate and had to ride on a road that had some low points that where inundated,WTF!

I got to the petrol station on fumes and sheer bloody mindedness.

I ended up In Lufkin ,Texas the Lone Star state, the local Mexican had no beer so I got another brown bag down at the petrol station, funnily enough you can get guns everywhere, but having a drink with an alcoholic content is a big no no unless you put it in a brown paper bag.

I got a nice dinner and an good breakfast the next day and got to Dallas in the early afternoon.

Rather sweaty and disgusting I got to Grants house.

In the early evening I went for drinks with Grant and his friends in a very posh restaurant and got to meet some of his mates and plied with drinks.

The next day some sightseeing another sweaty ride in 32 C, more Mexican food and then we went out in the evening to meet some of his mates and make the liver suffer some more..

It was about time for the fat lady to sing and for med to pack up my stuff and get on the road, well rather into the air.

Grant to me around for a spin through some parts of Dallas that I would never have found on my own and introduced me to an evil concoction called a frozen margarita, very cold and very sneaky. A couple of those and all is well in the world.

Finally it was time to bid my fare wells to the lovely Wood family get to the airport and a long boring trip back to reality.

The end.

---