The Three Twisted Sisters of the Texas Hills and their Dark Cedar Magic
The old saloon was so haggard I could hear the wind creaking through the space in its antique wooden atoms over the roar of my Chieftain’s engine.
“Whoa, girl.” I pulled Zanithia over and hit the kill switch after seeing Chad doing the same to his Dyna in my rearview mirror. I didn’t see the selfie stick until after I snapped the pic, which is why I ain’t in it. It’s all good–as you can see, enough is going on without me.
The Cartoon Saloon, Too, that’s what they called it. I sneezed; we were close.
Chad and I were hot on the trail of a local witch-gaggle known ominous as the Three Twisted Sisters of the Texas Hills. The thicker and darker the green cedar gets, the closer you are to their tormenting turns and sadistic switchbacks. I’d encountered the three topsy siblings before–Chad had yet to throttle through their gnarled ways. We headed into the saloon to look for clues of their twisted presence. As you can see…
… we weren’t disappointed.
“Might’ve been he was just like us once,” Chad exhaled, “might’ve been he came out here lookin’ to conquer them foul freeways.”
Chad folded his hands. The warm Texas breeze begged me to respond.
“Ain’t no conquering them, Twisted Sisters.”
“You did. Came back told all about it–”
“Wasn’t no conquering about it, kid. Only mercy.” I tipped my Lane Splitter Helmet to the fallen roadster and walked out back to water this here tree:
As I approached my saddle, something told me to smile. I obliged.
Texas roads kill. That’s a fact you don’t forget when you’re wheel’s sweeping up against the 3-inch grass border between your bike and the side of the cliff. Ranch Road 337 was the first of the Sisters to unwind before us. Switchback crawled around the hills to be paved into the most technical riding Texas has to offer.
337 sprawls the duration of Bandera to Vanderpool to Leaky to Camp Wood, where we took advantage of the only gas stop for the three and a half hours it takes to clear the hundred-mile stretch.
335 struck next. Rolling grades lift you to the hilltops above the legendary Red River, only to slam you down into the valleys if you’re taking turns as quickly as we were.
Ever seen a 5MPH warning sign in the apex of a turn while you’re hitting the throttle to stay upright, wishing you’d downshifted before it’s too late? That’s what 336 is like. First, you tunnel through rows of Oak Tree Farmland. Then you hit a cattle guard per quarter-mile while weakening your sanctum around the bends. Eventually, you ascend around cutty curves to drop back down into Leakey, Texas.
If the Three Twisted Sisters showed you mercy, the 337 greets you in Leakey. Jump on for a quarter-mile and stop at the Bent Rim Grill, where you can buy a Three Sisters t-shirt and join your two-wheelin’ siblings a beer and a burger named for the bike you rode in on. Peace, Texas. Keep showin’ ’em mercy.