Is It Amazing?
My main purpose for creating this site was to have an avenue to write about motorcycles. From the beginning, it morphed into a montage of things that have nothing to do with motorcycles but still allows me to produce word after word to create stories that hopefully, are compelling and entertaining reads. As I mentioned in an earlier piece, the weight of the year 2020 has made it a little difficult to keep up the pace that I started back in February.
COVID-19 happened, not just South Mississippi, but the entire world. All of a sudden, there were no “destinations” in which to ride. From the point of view of the motorcycle rider, the destination isn’t necessarily a factor; it’s only about the ride. This is true to an extent, but when there are no restaurants open, state parks, museums, and bars are closed, you are stuck with gas station food, drive-ins, and no brothers of the ride with which to commune.
To work around this situation, I did some riding along the Natchez Trace Parkway, which is a beautiful and peaceful ride, albeit limited to 50 mph. And by now I have traveled the Trace to the point that it would require a two-day ride because it would take a large chunk of daylight just to get to the parts that I’m yet to see. Don’t get me wrong, I will ride 20 miles or 200 or more at the drop of a hat, but generally, any writing resulting from everyday rides would be less entertaining and likely, limited to the stupid stuff that I notice the “cagers” doing.
As it is with most things in life, often we just need to adapt and make small adjustments and keep moving. A person who is very close to me asked recently if I ever go on midnight rides. The short answer was, “absolutely.” The follow-up question was, “Is it amazing on a star-filled clear night?” The answer to the follow-up is a little more involved because there are a few caveats to the answer. It is definitely amazing to cross a hill on a clear night and see a big moon and millions of stars speckled across a black framework. But the long answer requires a look into the basics of motorcycle operation.
To begin with, motorcycle riding is, as we know, inherently dangerous, day or night. Riding requires much concentration and constant vigilance. Riding at night only adds to the danger. Statistics show that 27% of motorcycle fatalities occur between the hours of 9:00 PM and 3:00 AM. Also, night time is not only primetime for the alcohol-laden cage driver to appear but in 47% of the night time motorcycle fatalities, the motorcyclist is found to be over the legal alcohol limit.
Lower visibility at night means road hazards sneak up faster, animals are extremely dangerous, the live ones as well as roadkill. The stopping distance for a motorcycle is at least 20% longer than the lights reach and it is harder to see around the turns.
But besides the glimpses of the moon and the stars, the night time driving experience is exhilarating, especially when the lights of towns are in the rearview mirrors. The backroads are filled with twists and turns, and shadows that incite neurons causing one to feel absolutely alive. To me, however, the height of the night ride is the air. Sure, the air as in wind, but more to the point, air as in subtle temperature changes as you barrel down the road and suddenly, find yourself briefly enveloped in fog, and the temperature drops 10 degrees or more signifying a body of water is near. Then exiting the fog, the air warms and again feels good.
Just last night, for this very reason, I denied myself my normal “two fingers” of bourbon so that I could take a midnight ride. The temperature outside was a perfect 71 degrees at my Darbun Church Road address, so with music blaring and donning a sleeveless leather vest over a tee-shirt, I departed. With no particular destination in mind and only the desire to find stretches of road absent of man-made light, I turned left onto Mississippi Highway 585, better known as China Grove Road.
In the early 70’s, China Grove Road was a narrow 10-mile stretch of dirt road connecting MS Hwy 98 to MS Hwy 586, with long stretches of hardwood trees, limbs connecting overhead and creating a tunnel. Traveling China Grove road, in a 1968 Chevy pickup and a three-Speed on the column was an adventure to say the least. The two highlights of the drive were Old McDonald Farm and China Grove Methodist Church. We rarely traveled the road as our normal route was in the opposite direction, so I recall being surprised when seemingly overnight the road had been paved and cleared on both sides much wider than normal. The wide-open strips on each side of the road later proved to be beneficial due to the overly large population of deer inhabiting the woods on both sides of the road.
Then there are the long mentioned stories that the church, the adjacent cemetery, and an old vacant house just up the road are haunted. As teenagers, we were only happy to learn of someone who had not been to China Grove. We would pack as many people in a car as we could and spend half the night scaring the crap out of the newbies. We would wait until everyone was in the church and someone would sneak over to the piano and bang away on it and I have to admit, to hear that old piano playing in the darkened church would send chills up your spine, no matter how many times we heard it.
One night, there were about 6 or 7 of us and someone wanted to actually go into the haunted house up the road. This was something that I had not done and though I was apprehensive to go, I couldn’t let the girls see me scared. Armed with a single cigarette lighter for light, we eased onto the porch and into the house. I feel pretty sure that what happened next was a coincidence, but there were only three of us that made it to the porch, and my dumbass continued on inside. I eased around the old dilapidated house, floorboards creaking under my feet. Advancing to the center of the room, I could feel the terror growing inside. I just had to be the show off for the girls. I stopped and turned to see if anyone had followed me inside, no one had. At that point, the lighter went out, girls started screaming, and the floor gave way under my feet. I couldn’t see but heard everybody hauling ass up the path toward the vehicle and I was standing on the ground below with the floor level with my chest. As I recall, my biggest fear at the moment was not of an evil spirit, but of rattlesnakes and black widow spiders. Never-the-less, the fear was the same as if Satan himself had a hold of my feet. Suddenly, I felt myself rising, as my friend Greg had stayed behind and lifted me like I was a feather, and then we hauled ass to the car. I never questioned that night but have wondered since just how Greg was able to find me in the dark and drag my ass out. Needless to say, that was the last time I went to the haunted house at China Grove.
Today, the church has a locked gate to prohibit traffic and the doors to the church are locked. It seems that in the late 1990s, unfortunately, the church became a place for some satanic rituals and some people were arrested for vandalism. The haunted house up the road has been demolished and the property returned to pine trees. While the church itself is considered a “Historical Landmark” due to the fact that it was established in 1861 and is remarkable because it had a separate door opening to stairs leading to a balcony inside for the slaves to attend church. It is also significant that the cemeteries are segregated as well.
Currently, the only services held at the church to my knowledge are an annual homecoming service in late August. But last night, I went for the midnight ride on “Mistress,” (my Harley) and as I passed China Grove Methodist Church, I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a picture. Though I felt no ghosts or demons, I admit that the longer the bike sat there, the more uneasy I became.