The Museum of Wonder

In the beginning of last year, I wrote down 10 rides that I wanted to accomplish in 2011. This was both to prevent the night before dilemma of where to go and to encourage further exploration of Georgia and Alabama. In the end I was not able to cross off one of those rides. It was not a banner year for hogging any miles.

A new year brings the same goal, as well as a GPS to aid in navigating these trips. The weather was excellent this week and allowed me to cross off my first trip of 2012. Terence was home on leave, so he joined me on the experience.


I found our destination on Roadside America, which is one of the best places to locate those truly unique locations. I entered the address in the GPS for The Museum of Wonders in Seale Alabama. The default settings avoid all highways so we were able to cruise down the back roads and small towns of Alabama as we made our way South. It was so nice having the GPS and not having to worry about finding the next turn. I was able to relax and enjoy the ride - even when we hit a detour that sent us down forgotten roads.

When we got there we saw a mailbox and a long driveway that led somewhere way off the road. I stopped there and someone pulled up in a pick-up truck and asked if we needed anything. We mentioned the museum and he told us to follow him down the driveway. The person in the pickup was Butch, the curator of the museum. After we parked the bike, Butch unlocked a wooden structure designated as the museum. We went in to explore and he continued to work around his place.

The sun was right over the building and made for a rough picture

The museum far exceeded the high expectations that I had set after my Internet searches on the location. The building was packed, but not too crowded, with treasures. You could tell that he had spent a great deal of time on this labor of love. This place was truly awesome and had an atmosphere that was creepy, beautiful and comical.

Here are some of the shots I took there and later manipulated on the computer.

Upon leaving, I noticed that I had left my headlights one, which resulted in a dead battery. Butch pushed me down the hill and I was able to pop the clutch to get it going again. I had never done this before, so it was nice to learn a new trick.

I decided to take the main roads and interstate on the way home. The temperature had reached the low 70's and we thoroughly enjoyed some extraordinary January weather in Georgia.

Little River Canyon, Fort Payne Alabama

I slept in a bit and missed my 7:00 departure time, but was able to get the kick stand up by 7:30 and reach Alabama by 6:30. It was a little colder than I expected on the ride up – not cold enough to get a deep chill but still enough that you were looking out for that next sunny patch of road.




Early this Spring I decided to make a list of ten Summer destinations. I was tired of spending the day before a trip trying to figure out where to go and figured a little early planning might help this tiresome routine. The last trip to The Big House was on the list and this trip to the Little River Canyon in Fort Payne was also on the list. I ended up riding up 431 in Alabama past Cheaha, which I found difficult to pass without motoring through the mountainous roads or enjoying the many hikes and views. I followed 431 until I hit 9, which took me through a very large lake region as I continued North. Although beautiful, the overcast morning would have made for poor pictures – so I throttled on until I reached the falls at the beginning of route 176.




I parked the big in the open parking lot that also contained a few cars, left the leather on, and headed down the walkway to the falls. The falls area was open and you could walk out on the rocks or sit on a ledge, which I did while I enjoyed a snack and peaceful scene. Other than a couple other people wandering in and out, I had the area to myself. After a period of rest I donned the helmet and took off down 176.





Route 176 hugs the canyon and has about ten scenic stops along the way. The first gave a nice view back at the falls and the river running along the bottom of the canyon. The road was full of dips, hills and twists and turns. I wasn’t familiar with the road so I took my time and enjoyed a stretch of pavement devoid of all other vehicles. I did see a few more cars later in the day but for the most part I had the part to myself. Each stop showcased a deep canyon created by a running river and surrounded by lush trees and high cliffs. There were birds soaring over the canyon and I was able to get pretty close to a vulture perched on the railing of the overlook. After reaching the final stop, I turned around and went back to the falls. There was one stop along the way that had an unnatural gathering of rocks that looked completely alien to the rest of the setting. One of the rocks was left in the middle of the road and parted the lanes.





My longest trips have been around 250 miles round trip. I have discovered that at this point my body is tired and my riding is compromised. When I purchased my Fat Bob, I bought a removable windshield. I rode the bike home with the windshield and found the turbulence of the wind wobbled my helmet in continuous manner, much like a paint mixing machine, that was hard to ignore. So, I got home and put the windshield in the closet. I’ve been told that I could ride farther with a windshield so I decided to try it out again on this ride. I hiked it up as high as it would go hoping that this would help with the turbulence. The shake didn’t seem too bad during the trip, but it was still there, but my visibility suffered as I was looking through a slightly reflective sheet of plastic that would occasionally fog up as I drove through the high humidity of the Deep South. In the end, I did ride for almost 300 miles and the fatigue wasn’t there the way it had been in the past.



Many people ride while listening to an iPod. I have avoided this because I enjoy the peaceful sounds of the Harley tooling down the road. This time around I decided to try the iPod so I put on The Zac Brown Band and hit genius mix – the iPod will then automatically create a mixed playlist based on the original songs style. I ended up with a mix of older country type songs and couldn’t hear the songs while riding. I tried kicking up selection by throwing in a mix of harder rock songs. The effect was pretty much the same. I could barely make out what was playing while riding and it was too loud when I stopped. After about an hour of this annoyance (86 miles to be more precise), I removed the iPod and embraced the music of the big twin cruising through Alabama. The iPod has gone back into retirement while riding.




On longer runs, I find that the middle of my back gets very sore. This usually occurs a little over midway through the trip, but this time it started to hurt at beginning of the run. I think it had more to do with my posture than anything else. I’d like to get some ape bars in the future and have been told that they will ease the pressure on the back and make for a more comfortable ride. This will probably not happen until next year, if then.



When I got back to the falls, I shed the leather and grabbed the lunch my lovely wife, Elizabeth, packed for me. After calling Elizabeth and enjoying the sound of falling water, I once again hit the pavement. Instead of taking the same route home, I decided to cut over into Georgia and head down 100. After traveling down this road for a pace, it became evident that this was a road that was well utilized by the truckers. I have utmost respect for those driving the big rigs and enjoyed sharing the road with them as I made my way back toward LaGrange.




It is about a week later and I have since removed the windshield from my bike. The difference was night and day once I got back on the road. The windshield was nice in that I didn’t get as tired and I wasn’t hit in the face once with debris or by flying bugs, but I also found it confining and a visual obstruction. I will probably put it on for trips in excess of 200 miles but it will stay in the closet for anything else.

I did end up running on fumes at the end and almost ran out of gas again, but I’m not going to talk about that. The next run will be in June and, weather permitting, T (my oldest) and I will be heading to Charleston SC for the weekend.

The Big House in Macon, Georgia

The Allman Brothers Band was formed in Jacksonville, Florida in 1969. Linda Oakley, the wife of Berry, rented a house in Macon, Georgia as a home base while the band recorded at Capricorn records. The Grand Tudor-style mansion at 2321 Vineville Avenue came to be a communal living location of family bonding and was the birth place of such classic songs as “Ramblin’ Man,” “Blue Sky,” “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More,” and “Please Call Home.” The Allman Brothers Band also had tragedy in Macon as they had lost both Duane Allman and Berry Oakley to motorcycle accidents while there. The band left the “The Big House” in 1973 and it has recently been opened as a museum to celebrate their career and especially their time in Macon.


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.