Spring weather in the Arkansas Ozarks can be unpredictable. I learned this in an unforgettable way on a ride with a new and eclectic group. Planned and led by a younger, throttle enthused rider, some were newer to the sport and the types of bikes were a wide range. From a laid back Honda cruiser to a Suzuki dual sport and two Yamaha FJR 1300’s, there were small gas tanks, rocket speeds and a lot of variables. Like assembling a jury of peers in court, the outcome was far from known. That’s what makes life interesting, and on motorcycles even more so.
After a stay at the Happy Days hotel in McAlester, Oklahoma (that’s a real place) we made our way through thick fog on the Talimena Scenic drive into western Arkansas. This was the pea soup kind of fog where you had to go fast enough to turn your helmet so the wind could wipe off blinding water droplets while not running into the rider ahead. Tense stuff. That was weather event number one, so like Tom Hanks says in the movie Apollo 13, I thought, “Well, that’s our glitch for this mission.” Turned out that it was just a warm up for the main event.
Our leader had scouted out the route on a previous ride so he had a plan and the maps on his smart phone to back it up. The fog however, had slowed down the pace so his route timing was off. We ended up at a gas station at the crossroads of a twisty road leading further north. This was a decision point on whether we could make it to the next planned stop. The problem with plans on motorcycle trips is that they’re more of a guide since you can’t control construction road closures or the weather or mechanical issues or potty breaks. There’s always something. But you’d have to have the war stories of those experiences to know that.
While our leader was intently poring over his phone maps doing mental math as we stood around, a man out of nowhere appeared. He pointed the group’s collective gaze up into the hills of our destination and said with a certain urgency, “That’s a hail storm. You’ve got to get out of here. Now!” In the moment I was slack jawed at how we could have missed such ominously dark clouds while milling around in the open. Hail storms can range up to 10 miles wide and 100 miles long. Large enough to hit a group of bikers standing near the flimsy awning of a gas station.
After a pregnant moment of gazing at this black front coming at us over the hills, I thought I saw the man go into the convenience store near the gas pumps. Seeing the gravity of the moment and his care to tip us off, I walked inside to thank him but he was nowhere to be found. Like an angel, he just disappeared. Returning to the group, I looked at the leader whose maps had stopped being a source of enlightenment and said, “You’ve got to make a call.” His rather immediate response was, “You’re in charge.”
Maybe it was running from the cops as a kid riding my motorcycle on public roads illegally without a license, but adrenaline has always given me focus. In this case, it was a protective kind of fear for the group even though this was a brand new challenge. Deciding that the flimsy gas station awning was not an option, I mounted up and waved for the others to follow. Having not paid any attention to maps, I didn’t know where we were. All I knew was that the route was away and ahead of the storm clouds. Now fiddling with my GPS, looking for the path of least resistance and highest speed, I could see that we were near Interstate 40. You can go fast on a four lane highway with no stop signs. Keeping an eye in my rear view mirror for the storm and the group turning right onto I-40, we dialed up the speed.
The hail storm was chasing us from behind at a north east to southwest angle. Traveling due west on I-40, it would intercept us but who knew for how long? More speed. As Winston Churchill is quoted, “Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.” We had the exhilaration for sure, until the first ice balls hit. Moving at over 90 miles per hour horizontally with ice falling up to 40 miles per hour from the sky, these things really get your attention. Check the rear. Yep, they’re still there apparently sharing my motivation.
This is where I can say that advertising really works and can save the day. The GPS had a helpful feature where you can push a button and it will find places for you. The thought was, a) find shelter, b) near the interstate and c) not far away. Then, I remembered the Holiday Inn Express commercials. The one where something goes wrong, but a well rested actor says, “But I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night with a smile.” The great thing about certain hotel chains is that their buildings all look the same. In this case, I remembered that this kind of Holiday Inn is a boxy building with an awning bolted onto the front with no fancy planters or curbs to get in your way.
Mash the button and voila, there’s one just up the road in Clarksville, AR. I don’t think the marketing folks at Holiday Inn had me as a customer in mind when their agency thought that up but, familiarity and recall would save our day. By this time, our speed was enough to punch us out ahead of the ice pellets like fighter jets ahead of a subsonic bee swarm. Did I mention that ice pellets hurt even through protective riding gear? Peeling off the exit in a few miles with a zig zag under the interstate, we pulled under the thankfully empty awning of the Holiday Inn.
In less than a minute, the parking lot was white with ice. The sound was as deafening as we were grateful to have won the race. Having had enough excitement for one day, we returned our thanks to Holiday Inn by dropping anchor there for the night. Another crisis averted.
I believe guardian angels do a lot more to protect us than we’re aware of. I’m thankful for them and Eddie, the South Carolina Highway Patrolman who would sometimes catch me on the tobacco roads. I’m thankful for the trust of a new group and, Holiday Inn Express.