By Spark

The business meeting got off to a rough start -- they were dressed in suits and had a nine-till-noon agenda. I was dressed in jeans and told them I would be leaving at ten. They had flown in for the meeting and had important issues to discuss. I had a bike sitting in the parking lot and had some serious miles to ride before sundown. The minutes ticked by one by one, time slowing down like it used to do on the last day of school. Finally, I was free. Down the hall, down the stairs, out the door and gone!

I met up with Haagar and Web, and we set off. Leaving Dallas, our first destination was the airport in Little Rock, Arkansas; where Haagar's wife Kathy would join us that evening. Then we were bound for the first annual Branson Motorcycle Rally "Road Trip 2001", running May 17-20. We didn't know what to expect from a first-time rally in Missouri, but we figured that we couldn't go wrong riding the hills and lakes surrounding Branson.

We headed North on Hwy 78 to our first stop, at Bonham, Texas. In short order we knocked off lunch, the rest of Texas, and a corner of Oklahoma. After running down the two-lanes at a steady pace, we soon found ourselves in Hot Springs, Arkansas. We made a short stop for pie and coffee, then hooked it to the Little Rock airport and arrived with 10 minutes to spare. We picked up Kathy, found a hotel, and called it a day.

The next morning we danced with the trucks on I-40 for a while, then hit Highway 7. This steep and winding road is listed as one of the top scenic by-ways in the country. Beautiful views stretch for miles as you ride the ridges, then the trees close in as you ride through descending, decreasing-radius turns into the valleys. We got a chance to dust off our cornering skills for a couple of hours, then headed up Hwy 65 to Branson.

We checked into the hotel, and found that the rally registration had already closed for the day, so we cruised through Branson, then rode out across the rolling hills to the dam. Even though it was perfect riding weather, reports were calling for thunderstorms late that night. The sun was setting as we rode back into town, so we decided to stop at a restaurant near our hotel. After a great meal and lengthy story-telling, someone looked out the window and said "Hey, why are all of the trees sideways?". "Aw, man, it's pouring out there," said Haagar, as we ran out the door.

Only it wasn't pouring rain, it was pouring dirt. We ran out the door and straight into a raging dust storm. As we blinked and choked and unlocked the bikes, the rain started. Big, fat, heavy drops fell through the dirt and were whipped into a spray by the wind. By the time we pulled out of the parking lot, it was literally raining mud.

We slogged down the road as best we could, pulled into the hotel parking lot, and headed toward our rooms. Someone had left a glass door open to the nearest breezeway, and there was a handicapped ramp leading right up to it. I think it took Haagar about a nanosecond to see the opportunity, and us about that long to follow him. A few minutes later, we were under cover, cleaning up some seriously muddy bikes.

The next morning was a little drizzly, so we had a leisurely breakfast, then headed down to the rally. After registering, we pulled into the vendor area, and found ourselves near a bunch of things that looked like metal tumbleweeds. Having never seen metal tumbleweeds before, I had to ask. It turns out that they were the metal frames of the vendor tents, they had gotten caught in the same storm. There had been straight-line winds of seventy miles per hour the night before, so today's special was "Damp Leathers, 20% Off."

We saw some familiar vendors, plus a lot of new faces. Harley-Davidson had sent a crew from the Kansas City manufacturing facility, and the drizzle kept George Gainer busy wiping down the new Sportsters. Dale Thompson Jr. was there with a large selection of T-shirts from Easyriders of Springfield. After checking out the merchandise, we headed over to the main building.

Now maybe I'm a little slow, but when they said the rally was at the Welk Resort, I thought it was just another one of the many resorts in the area. I didn't think it was the Lawrence Welk resort until we walked into the building. I was shocked. I've seen people dancing naked at bike rallies, I've seen rat bikes rolling in with cracked cases and oil pouring out on the ground, and I've seen people stand up on the saddlebags and ride down the street waving to the crowd. Nothing had prepared me for this. There was a cardboard cutout of him holding a baton going "Ah-one anna two!" There was a gift shop, complete with Lawrence Welk magnets, Lawrence Welk CD's, Lawrence Welk T-shirts and even official Lawrence Welk batons. My hands started shaking -- I couldn't breath. I had to leave the building.

Back outside, we hopped on the bikes and headed for Springfield. Since we had only purchased our cumulative body weight in T-shirts, we needed a few more. We headed to Denney's HD, 40 miles away. It looked like it was going to rain, but we made it. We got our shirts, stopped for barbecue, and then the skies opened up. After lunch, dessert, coffee, and more coffee, it was only raining harder. Web broke out a deck of cards and we started playing rummy. Kathy had never played the game, but by the time the rain stopped she was winning.

Saturday morning we set out to tour Branson. Ron, Mary, and Jim had arrived from Texas the night before, managing to dodge the drops all the way. The weather was great, but the traffic was terrible. We bailed out of one five-mile jam, only to find ourselves in another one. The bikes were getting hot, and before long we had seen enough of Branson at five miles an hour, so we found a good two-lane and headed for Bull Shoals.

This was more like it. We had great scenery, great weather, and were moving along at a good clip. We rode through the country until the road dead-ended at a ferry crossing. As we waited for the ferry, we were joined by bikes of all kinds and riders from all over the country. We watched the ferry come across, rode onto it, and enjoyed a nice cruise across the lake. The weather and the great roads held out until we reached Mena, Arkansas, where we spent the night. We completed our trip the next day, leaning into a 30MPH crosswind as we tooled across Oklahoma and North Texas.

So how was the rally? It's a little hard to say, since so much of it was rained out. The Ozarks are a great place to ride, and there is a lot to do in Branson. The scenery was great, the roads were in good shape, and the people were friendly. Any event that puts motorcycles and great roads together is likely to do well. This was the first year for the Branson Rally, but I bet it won't be the last. Count me in for the next one.