Perhaps the Most Boring Ride Ever

“I'm a man of means, by no means

King of the road” - Roger Miller

Today was spectacular in its nothingness. The closest thing to interesting all day was eight miles down the road after we started, when we realized we were supposed to turn after seven. Other than that, a big, fat goose egg. Zip. Zilch.

If you read yesterday’s post, you have a bit of an understanding about my thoughts on cold weather. This morning was even colder. I had the same get-up on as yesterday (now that everything had been washed). We stepped outside of the hotel and I immediately wanted to go back inside. Once we got on the road, though, we had smooth sailing. There was a nice, gentle downhill at the outset and we were heading straight downwind so it didn’t feel quite so bad. On a Sunday morning in this part of the world, there were no cars on the road. It was a divided 4-lane highway and we had it to ourselves. We were riding side by side and talking when Dan mentioned that he thought we should have turned by now. I generally have a pretty good sense of direction, but this morning it failed me. Not catastrophically, but the compass somehow broke. When you look around and everything looks the same In every direction, and the gray clouds hide the sun and prevent you from using it as a clue, and there are no road signs on the highway, it’s not impossible to find yourself racing south when you meant to be heading west. As it turns out, we overshot our turn by a bit more than a mile, but that one measly mile turned a cold but pleasant morning into a deep freeze. We turned around straight into the wind. It was not blowing particularly hard today, but with the morning temps, it didn’t have to be. We retraced our path, made the correct turn and got back on our way. That was it for excitement.

About 15 miles later we entered the ghost town of Sayre, Oklahoma. Sayre actually has a population of nearly 5,000 people. We rode right down Main Street at 11:30 in the morning and didn’t see a soul, other than an older gentlemen trudging along the sidewalk. He was startled to actually hear voices and turn to check out what was causing the commotion. Turns out it was just Dan and I talking about how deserted it was. We found some people up at the truck stop Denny’s where we had an early lunch and thawed our feet. It was only the second time I recall drinking hot chocolate on one of these bike rides.

After lunch, the weather improved and we were able to remove jackets and enjoy an equally pleasant but empty stretch of road the rest of the way to Shamrock, Texas. Between Sayre and Shamrock, we passed through two towns, Erick and Texola, Oklahoma. Wikipedia tells me there are an even 1000 people there (as of 2020). I will tell Wikipedia that 998 of them appear to have moved away. We did see a woman drive by, get out of her car, and be greeted by a man coming out of his house. The one interesting tidbit of the day and the reason for the lyric at the top, is this is where Roger Miller grew up. We rode on the Roger Miller Memorial Highway and saw a well-done mural

of Rog in Erick. Google describes Texola as a near ghost town of 43 people. I will say that there is nothing “near” about it. It was empty. Right after that, we crossed into Texas, the wind shifted a bit more in our faces and we got passed by exactly 1 pickup truck in the 13 miles to Shamrock. Unfortunately, that pickup truck - its approach undetected because of the wind and the proximity of I-40 traffic and associated noise - passed at the EXACT moment I had turned to spit. I had to have hit him, and for a couple anxious moments, I expected to see brake lights, Jethro and a shotgun. Fortunately, none of that materialized. Upon reaching Shamrock (population 1789) it was more of the same. The 4-lane road into town was empty but for one car pulling out of the Mother Road Vape Shop. We passed a series of has-been hotels (the Blarney Inn, the Shamrock Inn, the Route 66 Motel, etc.) none of which had more than a single car in their parking lots. There were some nice murals and some cool old buildings that someone had obviously spent some money maintaining or fixing up. But there were no people. Turns out they all hang out at Grif’s Steakhouse on Sunday nights. Good burger and fried pickles. The highlight of an otherwise incredibly boring day.

Downtown Sayre on a Sunday morning.

King of the Road

I couldn’t get a better picture because this happened to be right next door to the two people we saw in Erick, OK. Look closely at the sign in the back. That’s a hard pass!!

Uh oh. I’m apparently out of storage. No more pics or posts until I can have my manager (Erin) sort it out for me!