Ride Report: Wimberly TX

It’s been a minute since I’ve been to Wimberly Texas.

The boy and I were trying to think of a way to have a motorcycle road trip and I came up with Wimberly. So we did some planning and found that we could do a ‘dot city’ route to go check it out. Dot cities are those cities on a map that is denoted by only a dot, as opposed to a yellow area (I’m talking about dead tree maps here, not google.) I read a column in Cycle Magazine where a guy suggested this. Stay off the interstates. The dot towns would usually have a gas station, a restaurant, and maybe a motel.

So we planned a route west of i35 going 67 west, to 220, then 281 south through Texas farm country. The goal here was to get to Wimberly, and not have to endure the notorious Temple/Round Rock/Austin traffic in the heat of the day.

We saddled up Thursday and headed out. I wasn’t going to wear a jacket, but since he wore his, I figured I’d wear mine. It’s rated to 105 degrees. Once we got moving, it wasn’t bad. Nearly like not having a jacket whatsoever. I led off, headed to the GWB tollway, and let her holler, promptly realizing that the boy was far behind. Uh-oh…he’s timid. I’ll have to hold back.

He moved in behind me and we blended in to traffic.

We stopped in Venus to gas up and hydrate. I sat there, sipping a Gatorade type drink, admiring the bent over old woman trying to find her ride with her Keystone tallboy and her honeybun. Breakfast of champions. He headed west on 67, turned on 220. It was glorious at about 80 degrees and sunny.

We stopped in Hico for lunch.

I had a really good, small town Texas, burger and plenty of ice tea.

Refreshed, we hit it out in the heat. That’s when things went pear shaped. The old man leading the way wasn’t paying attention and missed the turn on 281.

As I lead the way, I noticed the signs said route 6. I should have immediately pulled over and checked the maps. But I figured, hell, it was going south so we were probably going to be OK.

Couldn’t have been more wrong. Sure it SAID south, but it was really southeast. We wasted over an hour and wound up just south of Waco. Fuck. I found that, sure, the jacket was rated at 105, but in reality, that it was intensely uncomfortable at that temp. When we got to I35, that came off. And since the boy remembered earbuds and could hear directions from his mobile, he led off. I followed.

There are a number of times that you have intensely proud moments when you have a son. When he plays a solo in orchestra. When he kicks a dumbass in the ear when sparring karate. And when he lights off on a big BMW bike and you have to chase his ass. Dude can ride. Took me back to when I’d have to chase my friend Tim through the blue ridge mountains.

In the end, we wound up where we didn’t want to be, when we didn’t want to be there – in the heat and traffic through Austin. It.was.punishing.

But when we hit TX 12 through the hill country, it was glorious again. What an amazing ride. It was nearly ten degrees cooler, the road was smooth as glass, and was full of tasty corners. Gave me heat amnesia.

He had found a really cool hotel within walking distance of the town square. We cleaned up, hydrated some more (I brought coconut water). Rested up, we headed to the town for dinner. I forget the place, but Wimberly is full of scratch cooking great restaurants. It was a great meal, served by a very cute waitress.

The next day, we decided to head out early. We hit a quirky coffee shop, got caffeinated and saddled up.

The original idea was to head south to San Marcos and get on TX 130 toll and simply gut out a traditional interstate route home.

But instead we went back to 12 to go north to 45/1 in Austin. Basically back the way we came. It was stunningly beautiful riding past the wineries and vineyards in the cool morning air.

Good Move.

We got back on 35, hit a McDs for a real breakfast (of sorts) before having me lead the way back.

It wasn’t bad. I needed to get the dogs from the boarder around 4, so I didn’t have much time to waste. So we simply bombed back home. No issues, until Waxahachie where some soccer-dad turned on the highway (287), cutting me off, big time. Dick. I suppressed the urge to gouge his SUV with my Kershaw. Dude isn’t worth the court date.

Got back a little after 3, cooled off, repacked, got the dogs, and headed right back to TX 67 to see the Girl.

The pups were practically catatonic after their dinner.

Great trip. A little long. But, I got a lot of time on the hotrod and am now way more comfortable. It takes time to bond with the new machine. You can do it all at once, or take months an hour at a time. But it has to be done.

Both bikes (Mine is a Kawasaki Concours 1400, his is a BMW K1600) are meant for highways. The both are super happy at 80-90 mph. They are not real nimble on corners. It took a minute to get a map in my head of how fast, and in what gear, I should hit a corner. I ran a little wide for my comfort on the first few. This is a thing on a bike. Too wide on a right corner, or too much toward the inside on a left and you could collide. You can’t brake on either, you’ll straighten up. It takes some skill to set yourself up. I’m nearly there. The bike has a longer wheelbase and is nearly twice the weight of my last one.

Add to that the fact that I haven’t been on a long ride in ten years, and hadn’t done any serious touring since before I was married. 1987 to be precise. I pulled it off. We’ll be planning more, which will become a thing here on these pages.