Weather on Saturday was gorgeous. I told my wife I was just going for a short ride to a friend's shop a few miles down the road. "Be right back, Dear." My buddy got called out on a job at the last minute. So, I started wandering a little. Ended up on this little twisted road. Stopped at this bridge and started talking to somebody on a Harley that also stopped. He told me that he heard this bridge was haunted - in the '60s somebody was murdered on this bridge. I didn't feel anything special while I was there, but it was peaceful.

The Harley guy went one way, and I the other. The road is getting twistier and 30 minutes later I come to an intersection with a decision to make. Going one way leads me to this:

Going another way leads here...

And still a third way looks pretty inviting from a riding perspective...

So I picked what any self-respecting Cajun would - the Wild Rabbit Cookoff. When I get to the location, there are at least 500 people in various stages of drunkenness, the only bikes I see are hard core harley riders, and they are giving me strange looks.
So I head back down the twisty road, and about 15 miles later, I end up at some little nameless community. I stop at "Lisa's", where I have to make another choice. Hunger goes before thirst.

There, I met two guys. Ironically, the guy that owns this was about 65+ years old.

And the guy that owns this was about 40

Both real nice people and we talked while I ate my lunch.
Back on the road, I found myself in the town of Breaux Bridge, where a group of bikes caught my eye. Turns out this was a funeral for a biker, and all of his buddies where there honoring him.

Interesting, but I wasn't invited. The "hearse" was a Fat Boy pulling a trailer with the coffin in it. Never seen that before. I wanted to take a picture of it, but the idea seemed disrespectful, so I quietly headed out.
Gassed up the bike and I hit the Levee Road. Stopped at this Pontoon Bridge. I rode across it - that was wierd.

Further down the Levee, the bees are enjoying the Spring like weather too.


I really like my bike.

Ended up home about 6 hours and 110 miles after I left. Within about 10 minutes, I had no particular place to go, and no time frame to get there. This is what motorcycling is starting to mean to me.