Ride and Roam With Me -- Ozark Mountain Thunder Rally 2015

I attended my first motorcycle rally! It was a small one, which is just what I wanted for my first ever rally. Ever since I bought my Harley two years ago, the one question I repeatedly get asked is "Have you gone to Sturgis yet?" I have  no plans to go to a rally of that size any time soon, if ever. Crowds, especially rowdy ones dotted with breast-baring women are not my thing, thank you very much.

However, I had been wanting to go to a rally, and last year I had considered attending the Ozark Mountain Thunder Rally in Branson, Missouri, but I chickened out because I didn't want to go alone, and at this point last summer, I wasn't involved with another rider romantically nor had I been a Legion Rider long enough to have formed a connection with any of my group that was strong enough to include me inviting one of them to a rally in another state with me. So, I scrapped the idea last summer.

During the middle of winter, when I was sick and tired of Nebraska winters, I checked out the Ozark Mountain Thunder website to see what the dates of the rally were. While I was on the site, I noticed that there was a spot to sign up for a chance to win a 3-night stay at the Ramada where the rally was to be held, so I signed up for that chance.

Fast forward to May. I now had a full calendar of Legion Rider activities, including things on the weekend of the rally, so I basically put it out of my mind. Then I got an e-mail from the rally coordinator saying I had won the 3-night stay! So, my guy and I decided that we couldn't pass up the opportunity to go to the rally, and we opted to forego the Legion Rider things that weekend (June 18-20).

Branson is a pretty long haul from my house, and while I do like long rides, I'm not yet up to a 600 mile ride, and we wanted to accomplish it in one day, so we committed the true biker sin of trailering our bikes down there. Boy, were we glad we did, as events will show!

For the entire trip down from Northeast Nebraska to the Kansas border, we were chased by a gigantic storm that stretched from Hays, Kansas to Sioux City, Iowa. It was crazy! We managed to stay one step ahead of it most of the way. Then we drove in clear weather until we were just north of Springfield, Missouri. Holy Hell, did it pour on us! Torrential rain doesn't even come close to explaining what we drove through. Finally, I had to pull over because I couldn't see anything. It let up a bit, and we switched drivers for the final short leg of the trip. Thank God we went through that stretch on Thursday night because it was flooding on Friday!

When we finally arrived in Branson, we found the Ramada Inn and went to check in. Hmmm, a small snag. Despite my calling two days prior to going to double-check the reservation (because I wasn't about to drive that far only to find out that the reservation hadn't been made for me!), they had made the reservation for the following night and only for one night!!!! What the hell? The lone guy behind the counter checking people in did finally manage to get us into a room, though.

About the room -- on the pro side of it, it was in a good location, on the end near the stairs and overlooking the arena where all the activities were to take place; on the con side, the shower barely worked because the plug in the tub faucet was worn out, so hardly any water came out of the shower head, and the bathroom sink faucet leaked like crazy. Also, the dead bolt in the door didn't line up with the hole to receive it in the door frame, so we couldn't adequately lock the door that first night. Believe me, the desk got a visit from us the next morning, and they did go fix all of those things, to their credit, but you just know that those problems were there long before we took the time to report them. So, anyone staying in 479 Ramada Inn in Branson anytime soon, you're welcome!!!

The rain continued for part of Friday morning, so we were pretty disappointed, but we made the most of it by getting our rally patches sewn on (along with two others for my newer vest) and going to a small burger joint that is popular with the locals and that the coordinator, Dan Luttrell, told us about. It's called Billy Bob's Dairy Land, and the food (especially the peanut butter shake) is excellent.

                         

Finally, the skies cleared up enough to unload the bikes. We'd been told that the roads around Eureka Springs, Arkansas, are wonderful for riding, so I plotted a course down Highway 65 to 86 West, and we headed out. Once onto 86, we found the curvy roads bikers love. The turns are all really well marked with the speeds you would be wise to follow because you can't see what's coming around the bend most of the time due to the lush vegetation and tall trees. The only real road hazard we encountered that day, though, was turtles! On three separate occasions I had to point out a turtle in the road for my guy to avoid since he always rides behind me to the left.

We reached Eureka Springs and discovered that it is a beautiful, unique, artsy sort of town that gets invaded by bikers every weekend in the summer! If only we'd been able to get an earlier start, we could have enjoyed the town more, but it was already late afternoon, so we needed to make the return trip to Branson. We did stop at the new Harley store there for a peek and for a photo for me as I attempt the ABCs of Touring challenge put on by Harley-Davidson every year (more on that later, but you'll see in the following photos that I'm holding the official touring booklet).

      

We got back to Branson (122 mile round trip) and stopped at Casa Fuentes, a great little Mexican restaurant, where we ate outdoors on the back patio and enjoyed ourselves despite the unruly children running amok while their inept parents ignored them (until one kid threw a rock at a window -- then suddenly a man jumped into action and yelled like an idiot at the kid he should have been controlling sooner). The food was great, though, and we would gladly return to that restaurant for more. They even had Sol beer, which is the best Mexican beer in my opinion! Then we returned to the rally site and watched some of the rock band, Classic Reunion, for a bit before turning in for the night.


The next day, Saturday, June 20th, was the poker run day, and that's when things went awry in a big way for Kim, my guy. His bike had been acting up a bit lately, so we should have known something would go wrong, but fortunately it didn't decide to take a shit on us the day before when we were out exploring all alone!

We made it to the first stop after following a group of people from the area who knew where they were going. At that stop, there was a guy who had caught a very long black rat snake that some campers had seen and were scared of -- I don't blame them, but the snake seemed pretty harmless despite its size!                              

We continued down 65 toward Harrison, Arkansas, still following our little group. It was a glorious riding day -- no rain and very warm! We arrived in Harrison and got separated from our leaders at a stoplight. No worries, though, because one of the few behind us knew the route and he came forward to tell us so. Kim waved him ahead of us, and we proceeded to the next stoplight which was also red. As soon as it turned green, I took off, but half a block down I realized my riding buddy was no longer just behind me to the left -- he was back at the light in the middle of the road! I pulled over, and circled the block when the final couple with us came up and told me his battery was dead!

By the time I reached him, a good Samaritan from Harrison, a young man named Lawson, had already helped him push his bike safely off the busy road and onto the sidewalk. As fate would have it,this young man used to work for a battery and tire store about five blocks away, so he called them and they set Kim up with a new battery. Then the young man took Kim to the store, and I followed on my bike. After only a few minutes, a worker at the store came out with the new battery and took Kim back to his bike. Again, I followed. He installed the battery for Kim, and we had to wait 20 minutes for it to charge before we continued on the poker run. By this time, of course, we were all alone with our route map and our bikes. (It was during this little part of our adventure that we learned that people in the south say "Wathcher going to do is . . . " every time they give directions.)


His bike started right up, so we assumed that all was right with the world for us once again . . . but you should never assume, now should you!

The next stop was at Jasper at the Ozark Cafe. We drew our cards, and then we went in for some lunch. Outside, though, we had caught up to the nice couple we'd met at the beginning of the ride in Branson -- a couple named Jeff and Laura from somewhere in Arkansas (I had planned to get to know them better along the way, but events had different plans for me.). They were relieved to see us because they didn't know what had become of us. They had just finished lunch and were heading out while we still needed to eat, so that was the last we saw of them.

Jasper is a really small town, but it's often in the smallest of towns that one finds some of the neatest cafes. The Ozark Cafe is really unique with exposed beams and a giant mirror behind the counter where we sat to eat. The place was full of bikers, and only a fraction of them were on the poker run with us.

As we were preparing to leave the cafe, I noticed a woman staring at me as I put on my helmet, so I looked at her directly. Then she said to me, "It's nice to see a female rider." The comment kind of struck me as odd at first, but then as I rode, I started noticing that I was one of only a very few ladies actually riding, in the sense of driving, a bike. Most of the ladies down there are the passengers. Not for me, thanks. And I'm glad that there are quite a few other ladies just like me up where I live who ride with the Legion Riders like I do.

The next stop was a tiny speck in the road called Ponca, Arkansas. I took a photo of the population sign for a couple of reasons: first, it's my favorite number and birthday and secondly, there is a Ponca in Nebraska and my son coaches there! 

Until we reached Ponca, I thought we were the only Nebraskans on the ride, but as soon as we parked, a couple guys started talking about the banner on Kim's bike that displays the town where his Legion Riders' post is. I realized they were fellow Nebraskans, so we chatted a bit. They were from Pawnee City, the very town I planned to visit on our return trip to get a Nebraska Passport stamp form the winery there (but more about that in a later post, too). What a small world!

We left Ponca for the return to Branson in a small group that contained a couple of people we had left Branson with, but we pulled out of the group when I came upon a spot with a breathtaking panoramic view that I just couldn't pass up. Kim held my bike, so I could just remain on it and not coast downhill while I took the photos. He's a sweetie!

From there, we were alone again for a bit. We made it back to Harrison, momentarily got off track, and then we passed the Pawnee City guys who were filling up at a gas station. The final stop, though, was a gas station south of Branson along 65. We pulled in and drew our cards. Then just as the Pawnee City guys came along, Kim discovered that his battery was completely dead again! Fate intervened again, thankfully, and two of those guys pushed him across the parking lot, so he could pop the clutch and get it going again. Took a couple tries, but they got him going. We knew we needed to get his bike back to the trailer immediately as something more than the battery was seriously wrong with his bike, so we took off for Branson, which was just a few miles down the road.

Just as we pulled off 65 and went up the ramp to the first stoplight, his bike died again. This time we were all alone, so he pushed it across the busy street while I followed on my bike, and he left it at a Casey's. Then we took my bike to the Ramada to retrieve the trailer and loaded his bike up for good..

To say we had luck that day would be an understatement. If his bike had died on any of those winding, curvy, steep roads when we were all alone, we would have had more problems than we'd known what to do with. Both of the serious times there were good people there who jumped right in to help him, and for that we are both very grateful.

When the bikes were all loaded, we cleaned up and went to the Rowdy Beaver restaurant right by the Ramada for supper. I was a little leery of the name of the place, but it was really nice and had great food and entertainment.
                

We watched part of Jasmine Cain's performance at the finale of the rally, and then we called it a night. The following day dawned bright and shiny, and we headed for home. Once again, storms awaited us down the road a ways, so we ended up taking quite the meandering course home to avoid the hail that stretched for miles from east to west.

Here is one photo of some of the flooding north of Branson around Springfield. Trees for miles are underwater all around the lakes and rivers. Fortunately, Mother Nature did give us enough of a reprieve to enjoy most of our first ever rally!