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November 03, 2006
Central Alabama to Mobile
I left Selma in the mid-afternoon with 170 miles or so to make down to Mobile. I'd been contacted early in the trip by a really nice and helpful guy named Henry, he used to live near Knoxville and had advised me on routes through that area, now he was offering to put me up in Mobile and give me the tour of the town. I was glad to accept his offer, but in the meantime had a full afternoon of riding to do. As I mentioned before, this trip was my first time on Alabama soil, so it was all new ground that I was covering.
I left Selma on Hwy 22, which eventually turned into 5 South, which eventually merged into 13/43 South just north of Thomasville. The country was similar to some terrain I'd seen in Georgia, fairly flat with a few hills and curves and a decent amount of trees, many of them evergreen. I didn't see as much farmland as you'd see farther west in Mississippi, closer to the Mississippi River. Two things that stood out on this leg of the trip were lots of abandoned roadside spots (what appeared to have been restaurants, juke joints, bars and gas stations in a former life), and logging trucks, which were busy hauling away the fruits of those pretty woods I saw. Lots of great hand-painted signs and interesting little places to stop, like the vanishing breed of gas station/grocer in Orrville, an autobody/convenience store in the middle of nowhere, and Lucy's One-Stop, where you could get a haircut, a hot pizza, groceries or dinner.
The homes in these rurual areas were smaller and generally poorer than many places I'd been on the trip. I met a couple of characters during my gas stops, a guy named Brian from Cleveland on a BMW touring motorcycle who'd been around the whole country and a well-meaning but slightly awkward middle aged fellow in Creola who called himself Brother Harvey. I gave Brother Harvey one of my magnets and he inquired about who I was doing the trip for; when I replied that I was doing it for myself he said "When you get ready to do it again maybe I'll sponsor you, carry a flag with the Lord's Army or sumpin'." A minute later he came back with a pamphlet bearing the hip, no-nonsense title "Satan Sucks," which, as a jaded member of Generation X, stirred something inside me. The weather was warm and fine, and the bugs weren't as bad as they'd been in Florida, though they did get a little worse just as I rolled into Mobile as dusk.
On my way into Mobile I passed through a couple of northern suburbs, namely Saraland and Pritchard, snapping a few photos of worn industrial sites and strangely-called tastee freezes, bathed alternately in orange setting sunlight or cool evening shadow, depending on which side of the road. I could see Mobile a few miles before I got there, and was worried that I had gotten myself into some kind of no-man's-land railyard area that wouldn't allow me access to the downtown; fortunately I found a way there using the one big skyscraper as my beacon in the unfamiliar town. Henry had given me good directions to his house so after a quick pass through the downtown I found it without much trouble. His house is located in a beautiful historic district, with handsome lanes shaded by live oaks.
He'd left his blue Stella parked out front so I'd recognize the place, and I pulled in and parked, thinking that he might hear my loud exhaust and come out. I waited for a minute and didn't see anyone...it was one of those large houses where you're not sure which entrance is the primary, both the front and the rear seemed equally plausible, so I sort of walked around toward the back, and one of the neighbors saw me and asked "if they could help me with something," as I probably looked quite foreign and suspicious in their neighborhood. Luckily, Henry came out a moment later to meet me and help me carry my gear inside. He wasn't exactly how I'd pictured him, I was imagining a stately older gentleman for some reason, maybe based on the thorough and eloquent writing of his e-mails (always on his law firm's e-mail "stationery"). He was every bit as kind and charming in person, just younger and better-looking than I'd imagined. He has a lovely wife named Emily, who shares his interest in scooters, I think (and hope!) Henry appreciates the rarity and blessing of this situation. They also have two teenaged sons, Miller and Harrison; Henry explained to me that it is a southern tradition to give your children surnames as first names. Seems like a very dignified and well-bred practice, I like it.
After I dropped my gear in one of the boys' rooms, Henry and Emily led me on a twilight scooter ride through this attractive residential part of Mobile, then to a Thai restaurant downtown, with Emily usually commanding the lead on her comparatively tiny Honda Metropolitan 50cc scooter. I tried to take a lot of photos while riding, but as usual, most were blurry and badly-composed. At dinner I had a red curry dish with tofu and the three of us talked about scooters, my trip, Mobile, my being vegan, and more. Here's a portrait of the two of them at the restaurant. After the meal Emily headed home and Henry led me around the city on scooter, we went 10 miles or so out on a causeway where the evidence of last year's hurricane was still quite visible, we saw several gas stations, seafood restaurants and other roadside enterprises that were boarded-up and abandoned. The restaurants that remained were built on tall stilts.
Shortly into the ride we remarked on how the temperature can change when riding, the "green" areas were much cooler than the city center and it was downright chilly in some places. I lent Henry my patented, bug-splattered "Gorton's Fisherman" raincoat to keep the wind off his bare arms and I think it helped. Mobile straddles the little cloven nub of land that connects Alabama to the Gulf of Mexico, most of the state is cut off from the coast by the 40-mile tall arm of Florida's panhandle. Knowing that Pensacola, Florida was close I entertained the idea of riding all the way over there, but it was too chilly and late and it was farther than I'd imagined it, 40-something miles to the east, so we headed back home via a short tunnel leading into downtown (Henry wasn't too crazy about the idea of riding through it, as he hadn't done so many times before, but it turned out fine). I remember being terrified of the tunnels leading in and out of Norfolk when I lived there, always imaginging the worst accident or breakdown scenario at the bottom; if I recall there was only one route out of Norfolk that didn't involve a tunnel. But riding with someone else, especially when traffic is light, makes it a lot less daunting.
Once back at his house Henry showed me to the computer room where I could work on uploading photos and checking e-mail, which I did until about 5AM. Since my computer access was so iffy during the trip I had to take full advantage of a computer/internet combo when I had the chance (especially uploading photos, as this was my primary means of storing them and making room for the new ones on my camera card).
The next morning I slept in until about 10:30, got my stuff together and talked to Henry, who had kindly offered to leave work, come back to his house, tour me around the city some more and then take me out to lunch. I gave my scooter a quick wash to remove some of the more egregious bug splatter (its first and only bath on the trip), then we had a tasty bite to eat at a middle eastern restaurant downtown and I got to see a little more of the city by daylight. It's a nice little city, lots of great architecture, sharing a style of two-storied, ornately-porched building (and the Mardi Gras tradition) with New Orleans. Many oaken boulevards felt like I could've just as easily been in Savannah or Charleston. There weren't many big buildings downtown, apparently the really tall one with the scaffolding on the top is just being finished and Henry's firm will be moving into that building soon. It's a fairly small city on the bay, not too much to see but dignified and cozy, and the downtown seemed to be in decent shape after the hurricane (I don't think this area was hit as heavily as the gulf coast farther west, which you'll see in my next update).
I said goodbye to Henry, cruised through the downtown a little more, back through the fancy tree-lined area and then west out of town, through some poorer, blacker neighborhoods and commercial strips along the increasingly devestated Gulf Coast...
Posted by pj at November 3, 2006 07:40 PM