talerider Thursday, 5 May, was the last full day of classes at Lawton Academy of Arts and Sciences. Everyone–students and teachers–was excited. Still, students in the three classes I taught had various assignments to complete, and I had essays to grade and post.
We were excited because we had once again sojourned through the academic and intellectual Slough of Despond of Poe, Shakespeare, Rand, Eliot, Chaucer, Hemingway, transformational generative grammar, 3.8 Method Essay writing, critical analysis of various works of literature, such as Paradise Lost, Dante’s Inferno, Anthem, and even “Sympathy for the Devil”, “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, and “Elenor Rigby”. Yes, my students are required to study the classics alongside modern prose, poetry, and rock songs with the same motifs and themes.
I was especially excited because as soon as the last hour let out at 1:25 PM, I wasn’t letting the door hit my ass on the way out. Baby Blue was loaded down with my weekend packing and she was waiting for me to hop on her, get her motor running, and head out on the journey to the 2022 OWFI conference in Oklahoma City.
I hadn’t been to an OWFI conference in five years, and I was excited about getting re-involved in one of the best writing groups in the country, as well as seeing some writing friends I hadn’t seen in some time.
Plus, I was excited about taking Baby Blue on Oklahoma state highways and county roads–no I-44 Interstate and toll roads.
On any ride, taking the road less traveled is the best road, and this makes all the difference.
Heavy rain had fallen on Tuesday and Wednesday, and I was worried the rain would continue, and I’d have to settle for a journey in a Sorento instead of on my 2008 HD Heritage Softail Classic.
Once outside of LAAS high school, I saw the sky was dotted with a few small clouds, none of them menacing and threatening rain, the sky was a welcoming soft blue; I felt a slight breeze cooling the air, and the lure of adventure embraced my soul.
Baby Blue rumbled to life. I put on my helmet. Before sitting on the saddle, I prayed a traveler’s prayer, crossed myself, and rang my St. Michael’s blessing bell (what some bikers call “charm bells”), as I always do, even if I’m just going to Walmart.
I didn’t hit the road right away. I first made sure Baby Blue was full and sated with fuel, and then I went home. I wanted to double-check that I had all I needed for the journey. Plus, I wanted to start this journey from home.
My route to OKC was taking me through Sterling, Rush Springs, Agawam, Ninnekah, Chickasha, Amber, Tuttle, Mustang, and on to the hotel in OKC–all state and county roads.
I was particularly excited about visiting the ghost town of Agawam. I had never heard of this Oklahoma town, and the name sounded unusual. I thought Agawam was a Native American word, but when I Googled it, I found that “agawam” is an English word, perhaps of Anglo-Saxon origin, used in Ipswich, England, meaning “the other side of the marsh”. When settlers from the Ipswich area found their way to the Merrimack and Salem area of Massachusetts, they gave the Native American tribe they encountered the name “Agawam”, and it stuck.
I couldn’t find any info on why this part of Oklahoma was named Agawam, though Wikipedia has some info about the town being an oil town, and that two trains collided head-on in 1915, causing injuries and death. Maybe I’d encounter some of the ghosts from that train wreck 103 years earlier.
After visiting Agawam, though, I never saw any buildings or structures or foundations that normally populate a ghost town; however, after my experience traveling the “road to Agawam”, I now know why it’s called “agawam” and why it’s a ghost town.
Baby Blue and I rode out of the driveway and headed out on our adventure.
Southwest and Central Oklahoma had had a couple of days of good rain, at least two to three inches, and I was worried rain would suddenly splash down upon us and would spoil our adventure. Oklahoma is funny about the weather. Not funny Ha-Ha; funny “Oh, shit!”
The sky remained clear, the slight wind cool, and the day bright and inviting. I was grateful.
Still, however, I was a bit worried the rain of the two previous days would have an impact on my trip. Cautious but not anxious nor paranoid, I guided Baby Blue on the first leg of our journey.,
The road to Sterling was curvy and hilly. A calmness, a serenity pulsed through me as I veered and leaned into each turn and climbed and descended each hill. I stopped in Sterling to get a picture–I want to record my rides not only in words but in images. I discovered then I had forgotten my tripod; so, I’d have to do the ol’ arm-length selfie thingy. Problem is my arms are not very long.
The closer I got to Agawam, the more excited I became. After motoring on state Highway 81 for some time, I came to Sunny Lane Road and the Agawam turn off.
I left the solidness and dryness of Highway 81 and turned onto a wet, muddy county road. I thought, “This won’t be so bad.”
It wasn’t “so bad”–it was worse.
A few weeks earlier I had seen the Ewen McGregor-Charlie Boorman documentary Long Way Around. A fascinating docufilm about their journey around the world on motorcycles. Although they had some good roads at the beginning, they found as they ventured to the east through Europe and Asia that the roads turned from asphalt to no roads at all–thousands of miles of ruts, potholes, mudholes, creeks or rivers with busted bridges or no bridges at all. Several times, their bikes become stuck in the mud and mire, their engines flooded when dipping into waste-high creeks or rivers, and they crashed, dumping their bikes several times. At times, each said he was ready to give up, to return to England or Scotland.
I wasn’t deterred by the road, which had turned into a muddy ribbon by the previous two days’ downpour. What little gravel was on the road was embedded in the mud or piled up, slick, slippery, and seriously unsafe. I’d ridden such roads before and knew how to navigate the slimy, soft way.
As I traveled the road to Agawam, I slammed, dipped, and dove into potholes and mud holes. Baby Blue bounced around and soldiered on as mud and water splashed on both of us.”
“Where the Hell have I gotten us?” I said to Baby Blue.
After diving into one particular deep pit, the water and mud encasing the bottom third of the engine, I stopped Baby Blue and dismounted. I left her running: I didn’t want to turn her off and not have her start again. I was also concerned my luggage was about to fall off.
Although my luggage was firmly secured, the jolt from diving into and then climbing out of the muddy pit had moved the luggage around. I straightened everything, secured all more tightly, and gently guided Baby Blue through the last five miles of water, mud, dips, and wet, slick gravel.
AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” ran through my head, although I changed the song to “County Road to Hell”. Not a single patch of the road was paved.
When I came within a half-a-mile of highway 81, the road morphed into asphalt pavement. In the docufilm Long Way Around, when McGregor and Boorman found themselves on asphalt pavement after a thousand miles of muddy holes, Boorman got off his bike and kissed the pavement.
My muddy adventure was only about ten miles, not thousands, but I now understand why Boorman dismounted and kissed the dirty, solid asphalt.
I didn’t kiss the asphalt, but I was tempted.
Here’s the lesson I learned: When I routed my trip using Google Maps, I saw that Agawam was right off Highway 81, as you can see below.
The lesson learned? Always ENLARGE the map to see exactly where the town is as well as where the road actually goes. As I learned in reality and affirmed virtually once I got home and enlarged the area around Agawam, the marsh and the ghost town were not right off Highway 81 but on a country dirt road. Of course, if central Oklahoma had not gotten two to three inches of rain for two days, the road to Agawam wouldn’t have been that bad.
Maybe.
I have a feeling the holes would have still been there, but at least they wouldn’t have been covered with water and soft mud, deceiving in their sizes and depths.
With the map enlarged, I could now see (while sitting at the dry safety of my desk) that Agawam is about two miles from Highway 81. I had turned off Highway 81 onto Sunny Lane Road–the name belies how “sunny” the road is–and then when it turned to the east and then south towards Agawam, the road became the “County Road to Hell”. Only when I got back to Sunny Lane Road, after weaving, dodging, and hitting the pitted muddy traps around Agawam, did Baby Blue put her two wheels on solid asphalt again.
While traversing the Agawam causeway, I came across River Road. As I rode the 3/4 mile on River Road, I kept looking for the river. I didn’t realize I had been motoring alongside the “river” the whole time. I was on River Road.
Having defeated the Road to Agawam, and after I was once again back on solid Highway 81, I made my way to Chickasha and then to Amber.
Amber is a small town just north of Chickasha, the type of town I want to stop in on my trips, to meet the town folk, to photo interesting aspects of the town.
I stopped at Williams Express in Amber to get something to drink and to let Baby Blue rest up. I also had to charge up my phone (I had yet to install a phone charger on Baby Blue). Once off Baby Blue, I shut off the ignition–the first time Baby Blue’s engine had stopped since I began the ride from home.
I then saw how much mud and muck had tainted Baby Blue’s frame, the saddle bags, and the engine. I’d make sure to Awesome her once I got back home on Sunday.
As my phone charged, I sat and talked with the clerks and the customers who ventured in and out. They were curious about me and where I was traveling. I told them I was attending a conference in Oklahoma City, taking the state and county roads, and that I am a writer and teacher. One man said, “You ought to go see the new high school. We’re almost finished with it.” His voice let me know he was proud of the new school the small town had built for the children. I said I would: I wanted to get a picture for Softail Stories.
I told them about my adventure in Agawam. One man said, “You’ve been to Agawam?”, though he pronounced the marshy ghost town as Ag-wam, not AgA-wam as I had. Oklahomans have a unique way of pronouncing city names. For example, Miami, OK, is not Mi-am-ee, it’s Mi-am-a.
I said goodbye. They wished me a safe ride and reminded me to stop by the new school. I assured them I would. I went outside, unlocked the fork, turned on the ignition, and hit the starter button.
Baby Blue sputtered and then went completely silent. I turned the ignition off and then back on and pressed the starter button again. Nothing. I then noticed the instrument lights were dark.
Baby Blue was dead.
I hadn’t conquered the Road to Agawam. I had gone through “the other side of the marsh”. I had ventured through the ghost town. My riding pride said I had conquered Agawam.
However, the marsh and the ghosts of Agawam had conquered me and made sure Baby Blue would go no further.
Read OWFI Conference 5 May-8 May, Part 02: Coming Home in Monday’s (13 June 2022) Softail Stories
