I woke up to “Midnight Rider” at six a.m. and was on the road a little after seven. I rode out of my neighborhood with the four day old full moon fading with the morning dawn. To combat the 48 degree temperature, I wore a flannel, my leather jacket, thick gloves and a face mask. The maps told me that I had about 120 miles before I hit my destination and the Weather Channel told me to expect temperatures to stay within the 50’s throughout the trip. The sun was in front of me and revealed itself as a huge red ball just over the horizon as I left LaGrange. It quickly turned to a brilliant yellow and I replaced my goggles with my sunglasses.
The sun made a huge impact on the temperatures, as I quickly realized whenever I dipped into a tree covered section of road and the cold bit through the various layers. About 60 miles into the journey, I decided to shed another protective layer and I took my face mask off. The air felt great even though it was still cold and I was fighting the occasional shiver that overcame me as I rode. I entered Macon pretty much right on schedule and quickly found "The Big House." After parking the bike and gobbling down a cheese, lettuce and jalapeno sandwich, I went in and paid my admission with a shaking hand. The chill from a cold ride can take awhile to get beyond and this one was set in pretty deeply.
The following pictures are mine. Pictures are allowed in The Big House but flash is not, therefore some of my pictures are blurry. There are much better pictures on their site and on their Facebook page. The following picture is a cut and past of both sides of the open gate as I entered.
I don't know what the building looked like prior to the restoration, but it is beautiful in its present state. I love these old southern homes and this is a great example of one. It is a worthy tour even without the copious amount of Allman Brothers memorabilia. I'm not going to give a blow by blow of the museum, but I will say that if you make it anywhere near Macon, it would be a sin to miss it.
A tribute to 'Live At The Fillmore East' with the box that contained the recordings on the wall to the right.
The current temporary exhibit is featuring Gov't Mule.
There were many highlights to the museum, such as the restored hookah room, Duane's restored bedroom, the band pictures, the historical items, and the experience of walking in a place of packed full of memories of the past. I was alone most of the time. It was an experience to just hang out and soak in the atmosphere and meditate on the ghosts of the past. I could visualize what it was like forty years ago in the home; with the music being a crucial thread bringing it all together.
Duane's Bedroom
The record room seemed basic at first, but it brought me back to those days when records ruled. To thumb through the rack, pick one out, examine the front, back and then move to the few with the treasured fold out center, such as the psychologically painted center of "Eat a Peach" - which was also seen as a wall painting in the hall.
Most of the exhibits are not currently labeled and there are plans to include an audio tour in the future. If E.J.'s story telling in the one room is a vision of the audio tour to come, it is going to be incredible and I can't wait. I picked up the DVD documentary "Please Call Home" at the gift shop before I left, knowing that I would be returning to before too long.
My next trip to Macon should include lunch at the H&H diner and a visit the Harley Dealership. I hit the road and took a more southern route in order to ride through Pine Mountain. The temperature was now in the 80's so I shed the thick gloves, flannel and leather jacket. It was about 12:30 and I was embarking on a 130 mile road trip in short sleeves with milky white winter arms and the hot Georgia sun. It is at this point that I should have slathered on the sun tan lotion conveniently placed in my saddle bags before I left, but didn't.
The trip back consisted of eating bugs, getting pelted by bird feces, which i discovered are not only gross but smell bad, and getting sandblasted by the dust of the flat bed truck in front of me and getting hit by the occasional pebble that gets thrown in the air.
It is Spring in Georgia and everything is blooming.
I stopped at one point to remove the sticky pad in my pocket in order to determine my next intended road and noticed that my low fuel light was on. I knew that I had about 25 miles of gas left so I wasn't too concerned. However, I did get concerned after about 20 miles further down the road and finding only open fields and back country roads. A beautiful ride unless one's stead is sucking fumes. Eventually, I hit this small town that didn't seem to have anything commercial to speak of. I came down a hill that looked hopeful and the Hog gave up the ghost. I looked to my right and saw a gas station about 100 feet up the road. After finding neutral, I pushed the bike to the station and filled both it's tanks, as well as mine.
There is comfort in a full tank and I bathed in it as I pulled out onto the road again. Next time around, I'll fill up before waiting for the light, of which I am a habitual offender. The road led me across Georgia, over Pine Mountain and back to LaGrange. I saw lots of other bikes out enjoying the weather. The total mileage for the day was 255 miles. The damage report was two very sore sunburned arms that are now entering the itching phase three days later.
Once home, I put in 'No Place Like Home.' We went camping later that day so i didn't get to finish the DVD until Sunday night, but that is irrelevant at this point. Anyway, I didn't know what to expect from the documentary and must admit that my hopes weren't set too high. After watching it, I can't wait to both watch it again and to head back to "The Big House." They captured a magical moment in time that contained extreme highs and devastating lows. I think it is true that you can't physically go back home, but you can go back in a non-physical sense and the documentary brought the viewer back to a special time in history that I wouldn't have been able to otherwise partake in.
