There's this ghostly place just south of the Arkansas state line on highway 7 (wonderful, curvy motorcycle ride) that was quite the tourist attraction forty years ago, back before Branson made the big-time. It was called "Dogpatch", and had all sorts of carnival-type rides and concessions, with a hillbilly theme.
Of course, I love abandoned barns, houses, and ghost towns, so there's a big fascination with this place; I snapped a few pictures as we drove by.
A short distance up the road from there is a scenic overlook where you can look out over "the Grand Canyon of the Ozarks", and we pulled over. There was a biker and his (well endowed) girl friend there, and the guy struck up a conversation. You know, the usual, "Where you headed?".
They, as it turns out, were headed in the direction from whence we came, going to the Biker motel. Turns out it's on the Dogpatch property. He said some weekends they have bands, and often it's "no vacancy".
So now we know. After we and the couple parted ways, I said, "Cliff, I have a question about that lady."
"Of course I noticed them," he answered.
"Well I knew that, silly. But are they real?"
"Oh yeah!" he grinned.
We really didn't want to turn around and go back, but at least now we know where the Hub biker motel is. I'd like us to get together with Cliff's sister and her husband and go down there, one of these days. I'm pretty sure it's a rougher group of bikers than we're used to, but it would be a great place for people-watching.
All over Arkansas the treetops are horribly damaged from last winter's ice storm.
This shot was taken at the spot where we talked to the couple on the Harley.
