After leaving Huntsville, I decided to head in to Austin, in particular to Lone Star BMW. I had several reasons for this. When I was bike shopping, the most helpful guy I dealt with was Eric at this dealership. He worked really hard to set up a deal and absolutely nothing was too much trouble. Unfortunately the guy trading up from the bike earmarked for me dropped the ball, and I had to buy elsewhere. So I wanted to thank Eric for his efforts in person. Plus, I had to buy a few bits and pieces, and I knew these guys were well stocked. First on the agenda was a set of Rockstraps to replace the Andy Strapz I am using on my big bag. The Andys are just a wee bit short, (read: I have too much stuff in the bag) and are folded over a few sharpish edges on the rear luggage rack/plate. It would have been only a matter of time.....but it would have improved the handling big time.
Next I needed to replace my BMW summer gloves. Why? because the stitching on the palm of the left hand had split apart. This continues my experience of BMW accessories not being anywhere near as good as BMW thinks their stuff is. This is the only pair of gloves I have ever had that failed in this way. Matter of fact, I have a pair of smart looking yellow and black summer off road gloves I bought in 1972 which I still use in the garden! BMW gloves and boots are the only BMW accessories that fit me properly, none of their other stuff feels comfortable on me at all. Still, if you aren't a short fat bastard with a head shaped like a cinderblock, what hope have you got?
First thing I saw at the showroom counter were two motorcycle cops buying some stuff. I couldn't stop myself them that at home, our cops get issued with all the gear they needed. They took it pretty well, although it reminded me of the silver miners I saw in Bolivia, last year that had to bring their own dynamite to work. Just as I was leaving, a slightly mangled 1200GS pulled in. The guy had just ridden up from Guatemala. Turns out he had crashed on some ice (yes, in Guatemala!) and had to leave his bike down there till it was rideable again. He had just been down to collect it. Turns out this guy is a paramedic, and works at.... would you believe.....Prudhoe Bay! I hope I don't meet him again in his professional capacity. I shouldn't even joke about stuff like that, it's bad karma. Anyway, spooky as it is, we may well meet again. The world is not as big as people who don't ride bikes think it is.
OK, so after that refreshing bit of social intercourse, if you'll pardon the expression, I pushed on to Lockhart, about 50 miles south of Austin. There is basically only one reason anyone goes to Lockart, and that is to eat meat. It is the acknowledged home of the Texas style BBQ, and both Mike and Steve put me onto it. So last night, I tried Black's BBQ restaurant. Established in 1932, it has been operated by the Black family ever since. And I think that was probably the last time anyone spent any money on the decor. It looked pretty crappy from the outside, but inside, it actually turned out to be much worse. Plastic tablecloths with lots of rolls of absorbent paper towels on the table. I was hoping for a decent steak, but no chance. Ribs are the go down here. So I said ok, I'll have ribs. When the guy put one, yes just one, rib on a plate, I chickened out and said that's enough! I felt like Fred Flintstone. Then when I sat down I noticed the only cutlery available was a plastic knife & fork. Turned out it didn't matter, the meat just fell off the bone. Then I noticed how everyone else was gnawing on bones like a pack of werewolves. OK, when in Rome....it was pretty messy, but it just tasted superb. I think I just connected with some primeval evolutionary force and started looking around for something else to bite.
Immediate change of plans. I'm saying an extra night, and tonight I'm going to the other equally famous establishment, Smitty's. Right now, I'm really glad I made that choice, because its bucketing down outside, but I may only be delaying the inevitable. Its only a short ride to San Antonio, but the weather radar looks really ugly. I wonder if Smitty's deliver? Photos when it stops raining.
Next I needed to replace my BMW summer gloves. Why? because the stitching on the palm of the left hand had split apart. This continues my experience of BMW accessories not being anywhere near as good as BMW thinks their stuff is. This is the only pair of gloves I have ever had that failed in this way. Matter of fact, I have a pair of smart looking yellow and black summer off road gloves I bought in 1972 which I still use in the garden! BMW gloves and boots are the only BMW accessories that fit me properly, none of their other stuff feels comfortable on me at all. Still, if you aren't a short fat bastard with a head shaped like a cinderblock, what hope have you got?
First thing I saw at the showroom counter were two motorcycle cops buying some stuff. I couldn't stop myself them that at home, our cops get issued with all the gear they needed. They took it pretty well, although it reminded me of the silver miners I saw in Bolivia, last year that had to bring their own dynamite to work. Just as I was leaving, a slightly mangled 1200GS pulled in. The guy had just ridden up from Guatemala. Turns out he had crashed on some ice (yes, in Guatemala!) and had to leave his bike down there till it was rideable again. He had just been down to collect it. Turns out this guy is a paramedic, and works at.... would you believe.....Prudhoe Bay! I hope I don't meet him again in his professional capacity. I shouldn't even joke about stuff like that, it's bad karma. Anyway, spooky as it is, we may well meet again. The world is not as big as people who don't ride bikes think it is.
OK, so after that refreshing bit of social intercourse, if you'll pardon the expression, I pushed on to Lockhart, about 50 miles south of Austin. There is basically only one reason anyone goes to Lockart, and that is to eat meat. It is the acknowledged home of the Texas style BBQ, and both Mike and Steve put me onto it. So last night, I tried Black's BBQ restaurant. Established in 1932, it has been operated by the Black family ever since. And I think that was probably the last time anyone spent any money on the decor. It looked pretty crappy from the outside, but inside, it actually turned out to be much worse. Plastic tablecloths with lots of rolls of absorbent paper towels on the table. I was hoping for a decent steak, but no chance. Ribs are the go down here. So I said ok, I'll have ribs. When the guy put one, yes just one, rib on a plate, I chickened out and said that's enough! I felt like Fred Flintstone. Then when I sat down I noticed the only cutlery available was a plastic knife & fork. Turned out it didn't matter, the meat just fell off the bone. Then I noticed how everyone else was gnawing on bones like a pack of werewolves. OK, when in Rome....it was pretty messy, but it just tasted superb. I think I just connected with some primeval evolutionary force and started looking around for something else to bite.
Immediate change of plans. I'm saying an extra night, and tonight I'm going to the other equally famous establishment, Smitty's. Right now, I'm really glad I made that choice, because its bucketing down outside, but I may only be delaying the inevitable. Its only a short ride to San Antonio, but the weather radar looks really ugly. I wonder if Smitty's deliver? Photos when it stops raining.
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