I finally left Wimberley and headed North on 12 towards Dripping Springs, or as they say over there, Drippin. At the FM 150 intersection I headed east and for the next several miles enjoyed some wonderfully twisty roads. Still, feeling fairly new to the sport touring bike, I did not push to hard. Eventually my GPS indicated we had made it through Buda. Except, I did not see the town anywhere. I ended up riding up and down the same 2 or three miles, looking for a sign. The only thing I could find in that hood was the Onion Creek Inn. Buda was not there. Was this a point on the map where no town was to be found? That is what I thought.
So on I went and eventually I rolled by some more industrial looking sites. Just a couple of more turns up the road and I came across the Buda City limits. Well, it was all there for sure, 2404 people strong. And consulting the good old handbook of Texas when I got home, this is what I learned. Buda is indeed off Interstate Highway 35, only seventeen miles south of downtown Austin. The area had been settled as early as 1846 and the first community center in this part of the county, Mountain City, developed before the Civil War, but it was rapidly depopulated as its residents and businesses flocked to the new rail depot, which took the name of Du Pre. People tell that this name originated in 1880, when, as the railroad pushed into Hays County, the postmaster at Mountain City approached a railroad official and requested, "Do, pray, give us a depot." However, in 1887, at the request of the post office department, the name was changed to Buda. The common explanation for the new name is that it derives from Spanish viuda, "widow." The town had gained a reputation as a popular eating stop for rail travelers, and the name may refer to a pair of widows who cooked at the Carrington Hotel in the 1880s.
Happy with the discovery of the mythical Buda, at least in my mind, I slowly rolled into town. Soon I spotted some good photo opps and parked the bike. I took off my helmet and put in on the seat, but as I turned to grab the camera, it rolled off and hit the pavement. This is never a welcomed site for a biker and in this case it was worse. This is a flip-up helmet, which means that there is a kind of jaw-bone hinged on the side, which is the area designed to protect your chin and your face on impact. Well, the jaw was slightly open when it hit the pavement and the hinge became undone. I tried my best for the next 20 minutes to realign the grooves and hinges, without any success. Finally I gave up, and decided to ride with my now 3/4 helmet and two big bolts sticking out the sides like Frankenstein's monster.
While my original plan was to ride down to Niederland via 2001 and then take 21 to Bastrop, I now had to change it and look at 35 into Austin, hoping for a bike store along the way. Sure enough I spotted a Harley shop along the way, but indeed it was Sunday and the fine people at HD were observing the Sabbath. Soon it became pretty clear that the 3/4 helmet approach was not going to cut it. Even with sunglasses, the wind was drying my contacts quickly. By the time I got to Bastrop I had a "What Would MacGyver Do" moment. Stopped in a parking lot I reached into my tail pack, and separating the face shield from the jaw I used ma ol duck tape to secure it to the helmet. So, sadly, Luke 17:24, quoted on the jaw, ended up in the bag. John 1:4-5, I made sure, would still be visible. It worked very well and it made a huge difference, but boy did I look like the new version of the wanna-be rider geek. I think that if I would have been on some old adventure bike it all would have been OK, but riding the Futura, wearing a helmet half covered with duck tape was certainly a contrast to behold.
