English 102 R. G. Van Deventer
April 25, 1933
Cross on Two
A cross country trip on two wheels or in other words a motorcycle, being dangerous to a certain extent never-the-less furnishes a conglomeration of troubles, thrills and enjoyment. It is not the most comfortable vehicle on which to ride a distance of eighteen hundred miles, however it is the cheapest and handiest mode of travel and since it best suited my pocket-book as well as my inclination for adventure it was what I selected on which to ride to Virginia.
For two weeks prior to the time that I was to leave, I spent my spare time in getting my machine into running condition and making a collection of road maps, trying to select the shortest and best route on which to travel. After much deliberation and comparisons of reads I finally decided on a route that had seemingly good roads and was the shortest as near as I could calculate. Knowing that it would be very awkward and cumbersome to carry a trunk on the back of a motorcycle, I sent it on ahead by express thus relieving myself of a lot of troublesome baggage. My complete outfit consisted of riding boots, breeches, shirt, helmet and goggles, besides tools and toilet articles that I carried in the saddle bags that were strapped on the rear mud guard.
I left Brooks Field at about two o’ clock in the afternoon noon on July lst, and expected to ride as far as Dallas by eight o' clock that night. But I soon learned that it didn't pay to plan too far ahead for I had not anticipated trouble. My first hindrance was a tight motor and I could not run over fifty miles an hour without the danger of burning out a bearing. My first disaster was in Hillsboro, Texas, where I was thrown from my motorcycle. Upon investigating the cause, I found that I had been running between an interurban track which I had not noticed previously, and when I went to make a turn the wheels of my cycle skidded thereby throwing me. I was unhurt, but the kick pedal on my motorcycle was broken and the headlights were thrown out of adjustment. The headlights, I fixed in short order, but the kick pedal I could do nothing about. I continued on my way, being more alert and on the watchout.
It was twelve o' clock, midnight before I reached Dallas and not finding a suitable place on my route in which to spend the night, I continued on my way in the direction of Texarkana, hoping to find a tourist camp. But having ridden half the night already I saw no reason for my not continuing to ride the other half, which I did, and arrived in Texarkana the next morning about eight o'clock. I stopped here long enough to eat breakfast and feeling much refreshed after that repast started through Arkansas.
My ride through Arkansas proved to be the worst of the whole trip. They were constructing roads throughout the whole state and I had to travel over two hundred miles of the roughest and most mountainous detours that I ever experienced. I rode that whole day and until nine o'clock that night and I was still ninety miles from Memphis. I had had hopes of making Memphis that night, but the road from the little town where I had stopped and on was sandy - a dangerous road to travel on a motorcycle in the day, much less at night. However, I was up bright and early the next morning and on my way. I didn't reach Memphis until twelve o'clock that noon. I stopped here long enough to clean up and inspect my motorcycle for worn parts and also tighten up anything that might have come loose. From Memphis to Nashville and Knoxville I had a concrete road that was as smooth as the surface of a table and made riding more of a pleasure rather than a task. In fact it was the first time since I had left Brooks Field that I was able to take my eyes off the road and enjoy the scenery of the country. I made exceptionally good time on this road, riding six hundred and twenty-five miles in a day. My next night was spent in a little town of Virginia about four hundred miles from home. The next morning saw me on the road again promptly at six o'clock, and wanting to arrive home as soon as possible, I rode like mad. Very seldom did I travel under sixty or seventy miles an hour, as a result, I arrived home by two o'clock in the afternoon.
I was tired,dirty and terribly sun burned when I did get home, but above that I was extremely happy as it had been over a year since I had seen any of my relatives. Although I had lots of adventures on the way, never-the-less I wouldn't do it again as there is too much risk in riding on just two wheels.