Windy Day; Max's Warning; Weather Miracle; Jim Pays

We started the day at breakfast with Moe Bourgeois.  His daughter's senior prom was last last night and he was clearly a proud father.  She starts LSU in the fall.  Moe and Donna are facing an empty nest.  Maybe he will buy a motorcycle and join us next year.

 The traditional motorcycle breakfast

We rode out of Thibodeux under dark, overcast skies.  Disappointing weather, but better than we expected a couple of days ago.  The big storm appears to have let us off the hook.  We lucked out by traveling so far south.  Had we taken a more direct route to from Tennessee to New Mexico we might have been weathered in for a couple of days.

Moe suggested that we take Louisiana Highway 82, a scenic ride along the marshes of the Louisiana coast.  We got close, but Highway 335, the only road that connects to the area, was closed.

 Bill outside of Johnny's Drive In during a lunch break in Gueydan, Louisiana.

For today's account of a random conversation with a stranger while out on the road, let me introduce Max.  While we were standing in the Abbeville, Louisiana, Walmart parking lot, a silver late model pickup  pulled up and the passenger window lowered.  A voice boomed out, "You boys been to Sturgis?"  That was Max, a short, portly fellow in his early sixties who had a lot to say.

He's a retired bus driver.  He has been to Sturgis several times.  The first time in Sturgis he and his buddies stayed in a shabby "dump."  The next time he rented a "real nice five-bedroom."  He rides a Harley, plans to buy an RV with which he also plans to trailer his Harley and told me personally that the National Guard is training in urban warfare and plans a coup in September.  I forgot to ask what year.  He also suggested that if I wanted pictures of some crawfish for my blog there were some nice ones at the store right around the corner.  Then he was off.  The whole thing took about five minutes.

 Max, retired bus driver, Sturgis fan, conspiracy theorist.

We made a quick stop in Erath, Louisiana, a famous place to those of us who watch the TV show True Detective.  A lot of the action took place in Erath.   It is a pretty quiet place.

 Bo and Jim in Erath, Louisiana. 

The closure of Hwy. 335 was probably a good thing.  We had been riding in intense crosswinds for over three hours and the ride along the coast would have been even worse.

Farmers in southwest Louisiana have turned to catfish farming to increase their incomes.

We meandered our way to I-10 and droned down the interstate for about 110 miles until we reached Beaumont, Texas, and the comfort of a Hampton Inn.

We take turns paying for meals and Sunday night was on Jim.  He sent an email boasting that the restaurant next door to our motel has an inexpensive menu and that "I'm getting out cheap tonight."  All true, but the seafood place next door to the restaurant next door does not have a cheap menu.  In sports terms, Jim's email was bulletin board material.  Also in sports terms, we ran up the score.

 Jim says, "I am the one who pays."

Monday will be a commuter day - 300 plus miles of slogging I-10 through Texas.  Our destination is San Antonio.