Guthrie Oklahoma Trip, October 1997

Tuesday, October 7

I work until about 11:00, go straight home, and am on the road by 12:00. The odometer reads 12, 258. It’s a partly cloudy, partly sunny day. I catch highway 1 in Lawrenceville, and head south to Mt. Carmel. There is little traffic as I continue to Carmi, where I arrive at 1:30. I pass the grade school where I went to 3^rd and 4^th grade. The school has changed very little. Looking at the playground behind the school, I can almost see myself playing baseball with my friends, including Carl, who died of leukemia. It makes me feel like I’ve had many years of borrowed time since. I catch highway 14 West. It’s nice riding, no coat required. In McCleansboro at 2:00, I stop at a Hucks, the center of social activity, and have a pimento cheese sandwich and a Pepsi. Then on to Benton, where I see a sign for West Frankfort, and think of aunt Fern. Too bad to be so close and not have time to stop. South of DuQuoin I catch Highway 51 North for a short distance, then 152 West in DuQuoin. I have to stop and look at the map, as I haven’t written my directions down right, then catch 13/127 North to Pickneyville (I can still remember my dad talking about Pickneyville having good basketball teams, and thinking what an intriguing name), and finally to 150 South to Chester. Chester - home of Popeye. I pass the Popeye museum, and reach the approach to the bridge over the Mississippi. The Popeye statue is on the other side of the road, but the bridge is being worked on, and is one lane only. I shut off the engine and wait. I cross the river at 4:00, and continue on Missouri Route 51 South. At Perryville I turn the wrong way, and waste about 10 miles. I finally get on I-55 North, and look for Route 32 West. A little before 6 I ride into Hawn State Park. I find a great campsite, and am the only camper except for a trailer where you register. I quickly put the tent up, then call Carla. I notice all the campsites have electricity, and realize I’ve probably set up in the wrong (more expensive) area. I ride down the road, and sure enough, there’s another, larger camping area with some primitive sites. I consider moving, but decide it’s too much trouble. I ride back towards the gate, and they have a woodshed, with honor system paying (a box). 15 sticks for $2.00. I load the saddlebags, but can’t quite get 15 sticks in. I only have a single dollar bill, so I put that in the box and leave. I go back and get the fire going. A lady comes around on a golf cart, I explain I have no electrical items, but she has no sympathy, and charges the full $12, double the primitive rate. I don’t feel so bad about ripping them off for a few sticks of firewood now, particularly since I will leave half of it unused. I cook my can of vegetable soup, and have that and a bagel. It’s getting dark, the fire is great, and I smoke a cigar. It begins to rain lightly, but pleasantly, and I continue to sit and enjoy the fire and the night. It starts to rain harder, and I have to turn in around 8. I rode 256 miles today, not bad for leaving at noon. It rains most of the night.

Wednesday, October 8

I’m up at 7, with coffee, oatmeal, and a bagel for breakfast. It’s cloudy, no rain, but drops of water fall from the trees. The bike cover and tent are wet as they are put away. I leave at 8:45, back on 32 West. I gas up in Farmington, then stop at a Hardees for coffee and a biscuit. It’s a little soon, but I don’t think there are any towns coming up soon. There are few signs on this highway, and I start wondering just how far I am from Salem. Finally I see a sign, Salem, 33. I cross the Meramac, the river sung about by the Dillards, and am in Salem, home of the Dillards, at 11:15. I stop at a restaurant for coffee and blackberry cobbler, and to get out of the weather, as it has started to rain. At 12:00 I’m in Licking, where I take Route 63 South. The sun has come back out and is bright, and I’m cruising along about 60 mph. I catch Route 60 West, which will take me most of the rest of the way today. About 1:00, at the intersection of 60 and 95, I stop at a Subway and have a 6 inch sub. I go about 5 miles, and it starts raining harder. I continue to Route 65 South, where I planned to go to Table Rock State Park, outside of Branson. It’s really coming down, so I stop at a gas station and study the map. I decide camping is out of the question unless the weather really changes. I decide to take Route 14 West off of 65, and ride awhile. If it clears I can camp at another park west of here, and if not, I’ll find a motel. I put on my rain boots, and for some stupid reason, tuck my rain pants into them. I stay on 14 until I catch 60 again at Billings. My feet are getting absolutely soaked, but by the time I realize the problem, my pants, it’s too late. At Aurora I stop at the Aurora Inn, go in and ask for a room. I’m already registered before I ask the price- $40. Probably could have got it cheaper if I had bargained a little. I go in, then start unloading the bike. The lady let me park it under the roof by the stairs, right next to my room. I notice my left side panel is missing, the same one that I lost a few months ago. This depresses me. I go in and empty 2 inches of water out of each boot. My cowboy boots are thoroughly soaked. I look out the window at the water tower that says "Aurora Houn Dogs". I prop the boots up over the air vents, also my wet gloves. TV is terrible, and I end up watching The Wonders, a very lightweight, but fun movie. There’s a good weather forecast for tomorrow. I go to bed, and when I get up once to use the bathroom, see a cockroach crawling across the floor. But I do sleep well. Rode 268 miles today.

Thursday, October 9

I’m up at 7:30. It’s still cloudy. I shower, and check out. I ride in a light rain to Monnett, where I stop at McDonalds for coffee, pancakes, and hash rounds. I catch Route 71 at Neosho, and follow 71 to Joplin. I go into Joplin about 10:45, and stop at a convenience store to call Margie. I get my notebook out to find her phone number, then lay the notebook on top of the ice cooler case, right in a puddle of water. I call, and Margie gives me directions to her house, which isn’t far. I pass right by the road to her house, even though she has put out balloons on the mailbox. After turning around I find the road, and ride up to her house. She waves from the yard, and I pull into the garage. She seems glad, but a little nervous to see me, as I do too. I go into the house and we talk and show each other pictures. We seem to be getting along well. I change clothes and we head off to see some cemeteries and relatives. First we go the cemetery where her father, Rodney Doolen, is buried. We get out, look at his grave, and take a picture. When we get back to the car, it is locked, even though the windows are down. Margie reaches in to unlock it from inside, and the burglar alarm starts honking. She doesn’t know how to turn it off. We leave, driving right by a funeral, the horn honking all the while. I suggest we stop at the first car place of any kind we see, so she pulls into a muffler shop. We decide to lock and unlock the door with the key, and that works, thank goodness. Next we go to Mildred VanAmber’s house, the first of the Missouri Doolens who wrote to me. She is elderly and not in good health, but has gathered several pictures to show me. It’s strange to hear her speak of "Grandma and Grandad Doolen". She asks me if my wife is dead, which strikes me as a strange question. Margie has brought our lunch, spinach sandwiches, in consideration for my vegetarianism, and chips. The sandwiches sounded wild, but were delicious. I had taken two large bites when Margie said she would like to say grace (oops). We leave and drive to Peace Church Cemetery, where James Daniel Doolen and Azariah Doolen are buried. I’m very surprised to see it is overgrown with weeds. I take a few pictures, then we wade through the weeds to find the gravestones. Margie videotapes me in front of the stones, then we walk back to the car. I’m covered with sticktites, although, strangely, Margie isn’t. It takes quite a while to pick them off my jeans. Then we go to Carterville Cemetery. I can’t remember who is buried there, and have given Mildred all my records. We find Emma Brake Doolen, but no others. We want to try to call Gary Doolen, who had told me about this cemetery, and stop at a small store, but he’s not in the phone book. Then we look up Nadine Doolens’ address, and drive to her house. She’s a very nice, short woman who reminds me of Grandma Doolen. She rides with us to the local cemetery where her son, Stephen Carl Doolen, who was born dead in 1945, is buried. I take a couple pictures of his grave. I have worried that meeting me, with her son’s exact name, will seem eerie to her, but she seems not to be phased in the least. Then Margie takes me to the Precious Moments park(?), which is quite an experience. We go through the chapel, where all kinds of biblical scenes are depicted with precious moments baby faces. I’m not sure if this is cute or obscene. At any rate, it’s an interesting place. We go back home, and shortly Margie’s husband, Russell, is home. We hit it off like two long lost brothers. We talk a lot, and Russell gets quite a kick out of the fact Margie and I both exhibit the Doolen trait -cheapness.. It’s obvious from being around Margie and Russell, either separately or together, that they are a couple that love each other a lot, and know that they are good for each other. It’s a great thing to see. We go look at Russell’s Harley, and my bike. For supper we have "haystacks", crumbled Fritos covered with refried beans, onions, tomatoes, etc. After we go for a bike ride, and end up at Russell’s sister and brother in laws house. They also have a Harley, more of a dresser. We ride back home, and watch a tape of a Pike’s Peak run that Russell was involved in. The President of the company he works for drove a semi up Pike’s Peak in a race that’s held every year, and Russell was one of the mechanics. The tape is of an ESPN show. Margie decides to shower, and another of Russell’s sisters and brother in laws comes by. They also have a bike, but aren’t riding tonight. The brother in law used to have a Virago. After they leave it’s late, nearly 11:00, and we all head for bed. I’m in a bedroom with a great bed, and open windows. The air is great and I sleep well.

Friday, October 10

I’m up at 6:30. Margie is already in the kitchen getting breakfast ready, and Russell appears shortly. I have breakfast of cereal, coffee, toast, and a banana. Russell had said he went to work at 7:30, but appears to be in no hurry. However, Margie leaves at 7:15 to go catch some sales, which surprises me. I hurry to get ready to leave so Russell can go to work. I load everything on the bike, and Russell says "Goodbye friend", and takes my picture as I ride away. It’s cloudy but not raining, and I get on I-44 West for several miles to the Kansas border, where I take Route 166 West to Coffeyville. Traffic is light, the road straight, and I make good time. I’m in Coffeyville, site of the Dalton gang fiasco, at 10:00. I find the Dalton museum, and pay $3.00 to go in an look around. I’m the only visitor, but the little old lady on duty says there were about 20 people in at one time the day before. The museum has saddles, guns, it seems about everything the gang had that day. Also the largest hailstones every known to fall in the US, bigger than pineapples, fell in Coffeyville in 1970, and one is on display. I look around about a half an hour, then leave. The sun has come out, and I ride without coat or gloves. I take Route 169 South to 20 West at Hominy, then 99South to 33 West at Drumright. I make good time, although it’s a longer trip than I thought. I ride into Guthrie about 2:30. There’s a hot air balloon over town that I head for, and this is where the main concert location is, a large baseball field. I get directions to the campground, which is only about 2 miles away. It’s a big city park with a big fenced in area where there are lots of trailers and tents. I register at a small trailer, and pay $12 for two nights, plus I get my wristband that gets me into all events tomorrow, for $30. For some reason they put me in a field outside the fenced area, with a few other tent campers. The ground is quite wet, almost muddy, and I’m concerned about riding the bike on it. I get the tent up, which is still wet from the first night. I sit a and loaf a little, waiting for 4:00 to call Carla. Then I leave to try and find Bill Doolin’s grave. I stop at a small produce stand outside the campground and ask if they know where Summit View Cemetery is. They do, and it’s only a few miles away. I find it easily, and use the directions from the Bill Doolin book to find the grave. It’s a very large, well kept cemetery, and I would never have found the grave without the directions. It’s a large stone, almost as tall as me, and 5 or 6 gang members are buried nearby, although all but one have very small, simple, white stones. I video tape and take pictures, and run out of film. I ride back into town to a grocery, and buy a new roll of film and some goodies for later. I return to the cemetery for more pictures, then ride back to the campground to put the video camera away. Then out to look for supper. Pizza sounds good so I stop at Pizza Hut. A medium vegetable pizza is $12.95. I could get a supreme, the same thing with sausage and pepperoni, for $8.95. Four dollar charge for removing the meat! I tell the waitress that’s ridiculous, and leave. I settle on Subway for a foot long, then ride downtown, park, and walk around town a while. Guthrie is a small town, doesn’t seem much larger than Vincennes, but there are quite a few neat shops, including Bryon Berline’s Fiddle Shop. There are quite a few tents set up on the streets, selling food, music, t-shirts, souvenirs of the festival, etc., but I don’t buy anything. Back at camp I read a little while, then walk over to the free concert in the campground, where the amateurs play. There’s a pretty good group playing. I sit, smoke a cigar, then have a lemonade. I walk back to the tent about 10:00, and hit the sack.

Saturday, October 11

I’m up about 8:00, and have new neighbors who arrived during the night. Two families, two cars, several tents, and several young, rowdy kids. I heat coffee, oatmeal, and have a granola bar. It’s cloudy, and the radio says rain likely today, 80% likely tomorrow. As I’m finishing breakfast, the horn on one of the cars of my new neighbors starts honking (this sounds familiar). I wait and watch, and they obviously don’t know how to turn it off. The lady is in the car is hitting buttons, and her husband is yelling at her. I walk over, and suggest she get out, and lock and unlock the door with the key. It works. Her husband says, "Can I buy you lunch?" It’s remarkable this had never happened to my before, and now 2 times in 3 days.

I ride into town on the bike. First I go to the Masonic Hall, and see the band Nuggett from Austria, then Helmet and the Hillbillies from Germany. They’re both pretty good. When I go outside it’s raining, so I put on my rain pants and boots, and decide to go back to camp, park the bike, and take the shuttle bus back. First I go have lunch, then take the shuttle to Squires Field, the baseball field downtown. I mainly want to check it out for later. There’s not a large crowd, and it alternates raining lightly and not at all. I see Bluegrass Etc, from California, three guys with about a 300 pound mandolin player. Then The Whites, a big time bluegrass group. One of the Whites is married to Ricky Scaggs, who appeared last night. I go back to the Masonic Hall so I can get a good seat for the Dillards, who are on at 4:00. On the way though, I stop at the Southwestern Territorial Museum. They have an exhibit on Bill Doolin and his gang, so I take lots of pictures, not knowing how they will turn out. Then on to the music. I see Claire Lynch and the Front Porch Swing Band, who are good. At the break I go up to the balcony for a front row seat. The Dillards are fantastic. Mitch Jayne is telling hilarious stories, and Rodney is singing great. People are sitting on the floor down front, and the crowd is going crazy. The Dillards get a standing ovation, and come out for 2 encores, one with Byron Berline playing fiddle. Afterwards, the MC says the Dillards will be in the lobby, so I go out and wait. Dean Webb does come out, and I get his autograph and talk to him a little. He says the Dillards no longer tour or play, but will get together for special events if "they make it worth our while". None of the others ever show, so I watch the Byron Berline Band awhile, then go into the smaller auditorium to see Bepe Gambetta from Italy, who is a fantastic guitar player, more of a classical than bluegrass style. It’s still raining outside. I walk back downtown, and have supper at a small family restaurant, having a vegetable plate and decaf. It’s still raining, and I’m not sure what to do. Wanted to be at Squires Field now, but don’t want to sit in the rain. I go back to the Masonic Lodge and see Bluegrass Etc (again), and Jim and Roy Ann Calvin, who are really good. It’s 8:30, and the Dillards are supposed to play at 9:00 at Squires Field. I walk over, and they are almost 2 hours behind, due to the heavy afternoon rain. I sit and watch an unknown group awhile, then leave, and go across the street for hot chocolate and pecan pie at a café. Back to the ballfield. Jim and Jesse, who were supposed to be on at 8:00, still haven’t started. The Dillards probably wont’t be on until at least 11, and Vince Gill midnight. Still, I hate to be here and miss the Dillards, so I sit down to wait. It starts to rain harder. That does it. I go to the bus stop, go back to camp, and turn in. I would like to get away early tomorrow. It continues to rain, and as the night goes on the wind gets really heavy. I’m lying in the middle of the tent, and the wind is blowing the tent down so hard it touches me. There’s water on one side, and it’s a miserable night.

Sunday, October 12

I’m up before 7, hoping for an early getaway. However, it’s still raining, and the wind is blowing hard. I can’t even get over to the port-a-potty 50 feet away. I go ahead and pack everything, and finally make it to the bathroom during a lull. I sit in the tent on the rolled up sleeping bag. This is really fun. Finally when the rain lets up a little, I decide I might as well make my break. I ride away in the rain, then stop at a gas station on the edge of town. I fill up, but don’t even bother to get out my notebook to record miles and gallons. My note taking is over for this trip. I take the same Route 33 I came in on, wondering if I should just get a motel and stay in Guthrie one more day. Might as well make as many miles as possible. The wind is really gusting, but the rain lets up some. When I get to Sapulpa I stop at McDonalds for breakfast, and see that my backrest has been pulled up by the bungee cords, and is hanging loose. Thank goodness I stopped now. It takes several minutes to get everything straightened out in the rain. Then I have coffee and pancakes, and dry off a little. Riding through Sapulpa, I notice there are no more signs for 33, which I thought would take me all the way into Missouri. I stop, look at the map, and sure enough, 33 ends. I’ve seen signs for 66, and I can see it would take me from Tulsa on. I go back, but the only 66 sign I see is for 66 West. I give up and get on I-44, which is a toll road in Oklahoma. I pay 25 cents, and the lady says there are no more tolls if I get off on the other side of Tulsa. There I catch 66 East to Vinita, and this is a great road, I don’t know why anyone would pay to be on I44 instead. At Vinita I take Route 60 East until I cross into Missouri, and take 43 North to I-44 at Joplin. I pass the exit to the Picards house, and think about them. Somewhere I stop for gas at a truck stop. After paying, I lay my coat and helmet in a booth, and walk to the bathroom. When I return to the booth, I can’t remember putting my billfold back in my coat. It’s not there, not in my pocket, not anywhere. I have an immediate and severe panic attack. I hurry back to the men’s room, and a guy is combing his hair, and in front of him on the counter is my wallet. He says he picked it up off the floor. I bless him, and go back to calm down. Then hit the road again. I want to at least make Springfield today, and would like to get farther. Rolla would be perfect, but is probably asking too much. At Lebanon I split the difference and stop about 6:00, pretty worn out. I get a room at the Lebanon Inn for $25. The desk clerk is an Indian, and asks if I’m a teacher when he sees my Visa card from the Teachers CU. He tells me he taught math and science in India. The room is simple, but clean, and has cable TV. I get unpacked, start my gloves to drying, and call Carla. I order a medium vegetable pizza, delivered, for $8.50, and watch the Colts lose another game. The TV weather shows the front right over me, and we should continue to follow each other all day tomorrow. About 9:30 Carla calls me back and says the Picards had called to see if I made if back OK. She was quite impressed by their concern, as was I. I slept great all night.

Monday, October 13