Saturday November 22, 2008 - To the Wends in Serbin

[snoof]

Since I quit the 2-4 hour Saturday marathon training runs after the White Rock in Dallas in 2006 the old metabolism has slowed to a stone’s pace. Add to that my age and that most of my Saturday’s are spent on RK and I’ve reached an unacceptable weight. Given the deaths attributable to heart problems in my family I’m messing with my health. I still run/bike four hours a week but it seems like I need to add variation and a lot of weight work, something I’ve never done before. So I hit the Y this morning and will probably cut back on my riding until I can get this under control.

Therefore I did not get out riding until 1:00 in the p.m. I decided on a trek to Buscher State Park – Bastrop State Park, so I headed to Elgin to Paige to Serbin to Smithville to McKinney Roughs Nature Park to 6th Street in Austin to Home. 124 miles.

For this formerly young man the weather was perfect. Fifty-five to sixty-five degrees, gray, completely overcast skies with no precipitation. Some like the sun and it has its place, but for someone who’s had most all of his days in the Texas heat for fifty plus years today was great.

I felt pretty good, although I know I’ll be sore tomorrow, after the workout, but the Harley vibrations felt like a massage to me. I was a most happy duck quacking down US-290, emotionally unaffected by the f-heads in their cages that tried to ruin my serenity.

I pulled over in Paige to use the john and buy a Diet Coke because I just can’t seem to use a business’ john without buying something. They’re not in business after all to provide toilet services otherwise they’d charge for it. I experienced a first in fifty-five year thing at this place. In this little anteroom to the men’s room was a guy with a tray of urine specimen bottles and other supplies. He stopped me and said that I had to take a piss test to use the urinals and toilets.

“Why?” I asked.

“Only to test the pH of your urine. I’m not testing for drugs” the one-eyed fellow said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because we’re getting too many men in here with far too acidic pH levels and their urine is eating though the porcelain and corroding our plumbing. In these harsh economic times we can ill afford continual replacement of the fixtures. Pee in the cup or leave.”

Because I was about to burst I did. He quickly stuck a test strip in the pee and congratulated me on passing. I busted into the rest room with not a second to spare before I would have tinkled all over myself. It feels very good to pee.

As I walked out he had sealed my sample cup and dated it. “For our records” he said. I asked him if he gets specimens from women. He grinned so big that his smile fell off his face.

“Of course. But we don’t need to. Lady pee is as sweet and harmless as rose water and wouldn’t mess up our toilets at all. I just like to watch the ladies squat. I cherish the urine that they give me. A lady’s pee is a special thing.”

And you’re a sick fuck I thought, but I wanted to ride, so I left him to his little perversion. I asked the cashier who took my Diet Coke money from me what was up with that guy.

“Weird fuck ain’t he? I don’t think he’s right. But he’s the boss’s boy and nobody else’ll hire him so the boss man lets him do pretty much whatever he wants. I don’t think it’s right but surprisingly nobody complains, I guess because they’ve got to go so bad. Word has it that he sells the urine on the Black Market. I don’t know who needs the stuff, but the kid does pretty good. Seems to make a better living than I do.”

As I rode away toward Buscher I saw the entrepreneur pedaling on the road’s shoulder on a fat tired Huffy without gears or a hand brake pulling a little Red Ryder wagon holding a strapped down cooler full of pee. Guys like him and Henry Ford made this country what it is, or rather used to be.

I hadn’t planned on driving through that little Wendish village of Serbin. This is another place that I had never been sober in while attending feasts and festivals where the beer flowed as freely as it does with other German and Czech communities. It seemed right to go there today so I turned off 2106 and onto FM 2239 for five miles.

It was a pleasant road marred only by the serial killer or demon that was hitchhiking towards Serbin. He had six or seven human heads hanging from his belt and over his shoulder and his red eyes sent chills to the core of my bones. I must tell some of the locals when I get to Serbin. I know they’ll be heavily armed but I’m unsure whether their hunting weaponry will be adequate to deter this beast. I hope so. The Wends are good people and don’t deserve to be annihilated from Serbin.

As I entered the small town I mouthed Witajcze K’nam (welcome) and then pulled over at the Lutheran Church and cemetery. I was enthralled by the famous Serbin Blocked Cedars. The ground keepers and townspeople combine forces to turn these natural cedars into unnatural looking things. But they were fun to look at.

I headed back out of town to get to the State Park and I saw no sign of the hitchhiking fiend. I only pray that no one picked him up. Maybe he was sucked up by the earth and propelled back to the fires of hell. I hope so.

I did however see a very impressive looking bull. So impressive in fact that I had to make a u-turn and come back to take his picture. I parked RK and walked up to the barbed wire fence so say Hi. This was a big guy and at first I was drawn closer to him by what I mistakenly thought were kind eyes. As I got to within a few feet of him, the eyes turned steely and I’m pretty certain he wanted to kill me.

It struck me how flimsy the fence looked and how easily it would probably be for the huge bovine to either tear through the fence or leap it being on me in nothing flat tossing me around like a rag doll, goring and stomping. But he was merciful and I got the hell out of there.

I rode on until I found the spot that used to be occupied by Ray’s Place. The land with the beautiful view of the valley is now occupied by a residence. Ray’s was a catfish restaurant, purveyor of the best fried catfish I’ve ever eaten. It was also an all you can eat place. I remember it so well. The Snoof familia would hit the place periodically on Fridays, but always on Good Friday, being devote Catholics abstaining from meat. I can remember going there until I was probably ten years old.

When you entered you sat wherever you could. Small bowls of a really good homemade Thousand Island-like dressing were brought out which you ate with saltine crackers. Ray caught the catfish himself in the Colorado River. None of that farm-raised stuff they serve today.

It was great fish but you had to know how to eat it because there were bones, some big, some tiny, in a lot of the pieces (along with the rubber machines and crude penis/vagina drawings in the bathroom, “fillets are for pussies” was written on the wall). You’d see the occasional Heimlich which always made me proud to be a real catfish eater. Fries and a wonderful oniony Cole slaw rounded out the meal. Ray was a great host wandering between the diners with his signature “If you don’t get enough to eat, it’s you own fault” line. I liked him.

The trouble was that Ray had a brother down the road in Smithville who was also a catfish restaurateur, but nowhere near the quality of Ray. They had a fierce competition going on which unfortunately included burning each others establishments down to the ground. For a lot of years they just rebuilt and continued business as usual but I guess the insurance company finally tired of paying the claims and one day there was no longer a Ray’s. To his credit though his eating place outlived his brother’s by a few years.

Then they started burning down each others homes. I lost track of Ray, but I’ll always remember his fine catfish, fries, Cole slaw and cracker spread.

When I entered Buscher State Park cars were backed up and a lane was blocked. I don’t know what kind of grab-ass these employees were playing but when I cut through the blocked lane to go park because I had to pee really bad again, a Rangerette cursed me out and tried to tackle RK and me. I didn’t have time for this shit and made a U and hauled ass to Smithville where I found a nice grocery store in which to drain the ole Snoof lizard, again just in the nick of time.

As I sat in the parking lot dinking a Diet Coke to replenish my urine supply I decided that since it was already almost 4:00 I’d just head back to Austin rather than make the pretty but slow trip though Buscher to Bastrop State Parks.

It felt good to be going 80 again, but at that speed I barely made out the sign for McKinney Roughs Nature Park. I’ve never been to this Lower Colorado River Authority park before but I’d seen the sign and today looked like as good a day as any to check it out. I rode along the very wooded entry splotched with a little color signifying fall in Texas. Around here we don’t have any real signs of the changing of the seasons, at least not like the beautiful foliage colors north of here. But it was pretty none the less.

I stopped at the main building and was given a really informative rundown of the park (18 miles of hiking including the Colorado River) by an attractive and friendly woman. So much nicer than the linebacker at Buscher. Several other employees were equally friendly and I will come back here for some hiking soon. I bought my wife an ant trap so that she can self supply our ant farm. I like the hearty local ants better than the mail order variety. Also got her a 2009 Hill Country calendar and some wolf stickers to decorate her school books. Hard to believe she’s 62

I said goodbye to these friendly folk and once more hit Highway 71 for the city. I would have been heading into the sun for a nice sunset but the clouds obliterated any such view. I guess that would be a disadvantage to perpetual cloudiness - no sunsets. But I was liking the dropping temperature and being on the bike so much that instead of taking the direct route home, I came into Austin on Seventh Street, then jogged over to Sixth Street just to see what I might see. Turns out it was nothing really. Mostly traffic. It’s primarily a bar district and being a nondrinking drunk it holds little appeal for me.

But since I was here I drove by the Capitol building and the burned out Governor’s Mansion. I don’t think they’ve ever arrested the arsonist. The State as in me is paying an $8,000 a month rental to house Governor Rick “The Hair” Perry. I think we could have found him a cheaper digs. I suggested he move in at the Salvation Army and get down with the people. Having some real food and a little religion would do him good. It’s apparently beneath him.

Then onto to the University of Texas area where I stopped for gas and peed again. Traffic is always heavy on the Drag as Guadalupe Street that runs through UT is called.

And too soon I was home. I wiped the bike down with BugSlide which was fast and easy and put the fine lady up for the night. Don’t even have to go far to have a great day on RK.

[snoof]

pix

[curley725]

Great read and pix's snoof thank's for posting your experiance !!!!! When you went thru Elgin you didn't get us any sausage what's up with that ??? :lol:

Curley

[snoof]

curley

that is good sausage and good bbq too.

[curley725]

Originally Posted by snoof

curley

that is good sausage and good bbq too.

I just had to rib ya a little !!! I lived in Temple and worked for a Toledo scale distrbutor in Austin.. When I was out that way I would alway's load up on the goodies..... Yum!!! We use to ride the bikes down hwy 95 to Taylor and then thru I think Riceland or ville.. I can't remember the hwy.. I was a good ride also... I sure liked living in Temple there was plenty of good riding in the area... We had rolling farmland to the east and the edge of the Hill Country to the west.... :grin:

Curley