The Sinai: The Sulton of Soda

DESERT HIGHWAY, SINAI — During my 9 months in the Sinai, I made the trip from South Camp Sharm el-Sheikh to North Camp el-Gorah once by Military Vehicle.  The 8-hour trip was long and hot.  It is a lonely trip, only passing a few other vehicles along the way with long stretches of varied desert terrain. Traveling from the Red Sea in the south, following the Egypt-Israeli border to the Mediterranean in the north.  It is full of ancient sites and war damage from the past Arab and Israeli conflicts.  One unusual stop is the Detroit Oasis, where we talk with the Sultan of Soda.

In the late 1980s through the late 1990s, international peacekeepers making the grueling eight-hour trek between South Camp and North Camp faced punishing 110°F desert heat as a constant. But on a barren stretch of highway connecting North and South Sinai along the Israeli border, you can find an unlikely sanctuary: a cold Coca-Cola, a classic rock soundtrack, and a chat with the "Sultan of Soda" himself. Officially known as the "Detroit Oasis," this open-air wooden shack has become a legendary mandatory stop for members of the Multinational Force and Observers (MFO). Run by Mark Farber, an enterprising ex-Peace Corps volunteer from Metro Detroit, the remote outpost defies incredible logistical odds daily to serve military personnel, Bedouins, and backpackers alike.

A Logistical Miracle in the Sand that operates in the middle of nowhere, Farber relied on a diesel generator and a constant rotation of ice blocks to keep his beverages freezing cold. He hauls the ice and crates of soda across the desert from the nearest town several times a week.

As a newly minted Warrant Logistics Officer during my nine-month deployment in this desolate landscape, I find that pulling up to the shack feels like stepping back into Western comfort. The simple structure is adorned with international road signs, flags, and graffiti from passing travelers. Inside, the menu features: Ice-cold sodas and beer, freshly grilled cheese sandwiches, and Hot coffee.

During the long journey between camps, it was considered a haven for peacekeepers. The outpost has built a massive reputation among soldiers navigating the long transit between the MFO's primary bases. With his stereo blasting classic rock, Farber provides more than just physical nourishment; he offers a psychological escape from the isolation of desert patrols.

While geopolitical shifts, problems with rebels, and an unstable Egyptian government made the Detroit Oasis untenable.  This forced its closure in the late 1990's.  The Detroit Oasis was a vibrant, free-wheeling monument to hospitality in the heart of the Sinai. For a number of years, the soldiers who passed through the Sultan of Soda made the long drive between camps a little more bearable.

Wild Motorcyle Roads in Illinios and Wisconsin

One of my favorite things to do is to break the day on a Motorcycle. The changing light in the morning is mesmerizing. I departed Tennessee at 0430; I'm on my way to Wisconsin on a 1,400-mile
odyssey. I'm in search of a River Road. This one is on the Illinois River between Peoria and La Sala.

The road is always calling my name. It's like a song I can't get out of my head. It's been that way since I was a little kid of 10, riding my Honda 50 around our neighborhood. I was always looking for new trails to ride. Today, it's no different. On the second day of the trip, I start on an unknown road, Illinois Highway 29/26.

It's a fast climb out of the Illinois River Valley onto the northern Prairie. Riding on the Prairie has its advantages. You can see the weather for miles; sometimes it is unavoidable, and sometimes it isn't. Today I skirt a squall line to the west, heading into Wisconsin, and only get a few raindrops. Riding on flat terrain gives you a peaceful, relaxing feeling. Then there are the windmills that fill the corn fields. Which, to me, brings an added beauty.

Once I get into Wisconsin, the terrain turns to rolling hills of the Driftless Area. A rare northern geographical feature where no glaciers were ever present during the last ice age. I make a turn to head north on County Road J, which turns into a gift from the motorcycle gods. Some of the best roads I've ridden, I have found by accident. This one was special, about 30 miles of switchbacks and S-turns.

It's been a good ride so far today. I'm stopping for an early lunch, and it's only an hour to Mom's house for a 4-day visit. After my 4-day visit with Mom, it's time to head home, another 700-mile adventure.  

After a 500-mile ride from Wisconsin, where I rinse and repeat County Road J, I thought about riding straight through to home. But the heat was getting to me, so I decided to stop outside of Mount Vernon in southern Illinois.  It's only a short 219 miles to the house.  

The next day I decided to leave the interstate to ride some more unknown roads.  Leaving the highway behind, Illinois Route 142 opened up into a rider's paradise, characterized by long, unbroken straightaways punctuated by wide, sweeping turns.  On this pavement, the heavy rumble of a classic V-twin engine smoothed out the tarmac, making the rural highway feel like pure silk. 

The final stretch promises a familiar rhythm.  The high-energy rock discography of the band Seether provides the soundtrack for the remaining miles, keeping the heat fatigue at bay.

Ahead lies Kentucky Route 109—a twisting asphalt ribbon that this motorcycle knows by heart.  The garage in Clarksville, Tennessee, is finally calling, bringing an end to an epic 1,400-mile journey defined by open roads.

Crossing the Line: How 719 Miles on a V-Twin Reveals the Heart of a Divided America

SHAWNEETOWN, IL    — The heat of a July afternoon is enough to make any motorcyclist reconsider their limits.  After leaving Northern Wisconsin and pushing through a grueling 500-mile stretch yesterday, the oppressive 2:00 PM sun finally forced a tactical halt.  Today, with the final 219 miles in sight, a simple route change on Google Maps transformed a standard trek into a profound journey through the changing fabric of American culture.

The detour took the rider off the monotonous interstate and toward the Ohio River, mapping a path across the historic Mason-Dixon line at Old Shawneetown.  What followed was a stark reminder of how quickly a landscape—and a culture—can shift over a single body of water.  

Old Shawneetown itself is an enigma.  Most of the town was moved to higher ground due to constant flooding.  What remains is an historic bank and a few hardy souls who live with the whims of the river. 

Silk Roads and Southern Shifts

Leaving the highway behind, Illinois Route 142 opened up into a rider's paradise, characterized by long, unbroken straightaways punctuated by wide, sweeping turns.  On this pavement, the heavy rumble of a classic V-twin engine smoothed out the tarmac, making the rural highway feel like pure silk.

But the true shift occurs at the riverbank. Crossing the bridge over the Ohio River feels like passing through an invisible portal.
Instantly, the environment changes:

• The Dialect: The cadence of speech shifts into distinct Southern drawls.
• The Cuisine: The food instantly takes on the heavy, comforting flavors of the true American South.
• The Atmosphere: The air carries a different weight, serving as a reminder of an historically divided nation.

Signs of Grace in a Divided Land

While the geographic boundary remains a symbol of a historically fractured America, the human element on the ground tells a much more hopeful story.

In Shawneetown, the rider encountered a local man who had recently purchased a vacation campsite.  Noticing that the American flag hadn't flown in the area for several years, the resident took it upon himself to revitalize the local scenery.  He decorated the town's historic bank and proudly hoisted a new flag at the old gas station.  He is just one of many everyday citizens on both sides of the river quietly doing what they can to build a better world.

The Home Stretch

With just two hours left on the itinerary, the final leg of the journey promises a familiar rhythm.  The high-energy rock discography of the band Seether provides the soundtrack for the remaining miles, keeping the heat fatigue at bay.

Ahead lies Kentucky Route 109—a twisting asphalt ribbon that this motorcycle knows by heart.  The garage in Clarksville, Tennessee, is finally calling, bringing an end to an epic 719-mile journey defined by open roads, cultural divides, and unexpected moments of unity.