DAVE: Marginal Accomodations
If you sleep past 7am there’s no hot water. The old tube TV displays faded color on one side of the screen and black & white on the other. There’s no hairdryer, microwave or chocolates on your pillow. Some outlets work, some don’t (we’ve learned to pack an extension cord). And then there’s that ever-present pit bull eyeballing me. The hotel/restaurant combo is called The HUB and it sits on a hilltop overlooking an abandoned amusement park. These are by no means luxury accommodations.
Yet Sandy and I can’t wait to stay there every year to attend the Ozark Mountains Rat Raid. The Rat Raid is a loose affiliation of more than a hundred British motorcycle enthusiasts spending a few days doing exactly what their parents told them not to do—riding motorcycles. Sandy and I don’t have English bikes, we ride ones of the Italian variety, yet somehow they keep inviting us back every year—technically they invite her back and I just get to tag along. At least that’s what they tell me.
The group Sandy and I ride with is an interesting cross section: three retirees, a physical therapist, a few business owners and some oil and gas industry guys. Some are from Edmond, some from out-of-state. Our ages range from late 20s to early 70s. Sometimes we ride a little too fast, sometimes we get lost, but we always have a great time. It’s hard not to—NW Arkansas has some of the best riding in the country.
About the accommodations, I need to disclose that Randal and Debbie who own The HUB are about the nicest people I know. And the reason the pit bull won’t leave me alone is because I feed her prime rib scraps. Her name is Happy—a perfect name for our annual pilgrimage.