Day 10 - But Wait...There's More!

So here it was. The sun had dawned on the last day of my trip, and I was heading home! The thought of that was exciting, even if the thought of dragging myself out of bed wasn't so exciting. The hotel alarm clock was evilly set for 5:30 a.m., and I hadn't thought to check it before going to bed. I fumbled through a couple of snooze setting on it before figuring out how to turn it off.

An hour later, I thought I might get up, but that thought proved to be short-lived. Eight o'clock rolled around, and I finally forced myself to get up. Got stuff packed, wiped off and polished the bike and helmet, checked tire pressure and used the last dying gasps in the can of chain lube. Once the bike was packed, I knew I wanted a decent breakfast so I could push on for a full day. Wouldn't you know it, there was a Cracker Barrel just across the interstate! I got over there shortly before 9:30 (hoo boy, this was going to be a long day), and can't say the service was exactly speedy. Did manage to get out of there and on the road by 10:02 a.m.

As I've said before, I like to try to find someone on the road to ride with, and this morning there was a white Toyota Tundra with NC plates that was keeping a rather lively pace, and I decided to keep time with him. After 150 miles, my small gas tank was starting to gasp, and I had to flip over to reserve fuel. The next exit showing a gas station was three miles away, so I dropped out of the pace, and got off the interstate. When I got to the station, every one of the unleaded fuel pumps had bags over them, and signs saying "Out of Fuel". Rawr!

I headed back out on the interstate, figuring I had at least 20 miles worth of reserve left, and was happy when the next exit had the desired Shell station. I put in about 4.3 gallons, which averaged out to only 46 mpg, which was on the low side. I thought it might be due to the lively pace with the truck, but when I was leaving the station, I saw that my choke was opened up about a quarter of a turn beyond where it should be for normal running. Oh great! I closed it back down and headed back onto the road.

By now I was south of Lexington, KY, and started going on some really nice mountain roads. Up ahead, I saw a guy on a white bike, and as I got closer, I saw it was a Kawasaki ER-6n. We teamed up, and the next 90 miles melted. The roads really had some nice curves through there, and my legs are weary tonight from holding on...it was like a ThighMaster on drugs (Suzanne Somers, eat your heart out!) He pulled off about 20 miles before Knoxville, tossing a wave my way, and I filtered onto I-640 with all of the other little ants heading towards Asheville. I stopped at the Gatlinburg turnoff and fueled, took a bathroom break, and ate an ice cream bar.

This was the last push. I was only about 120 miles away from home. It was getting so close I could taste it! Often, you let down your guard when you get close to the end, and I made sure I was just as alert at the end as I'd been for the previous 3,000 miles. I really wish I had a video camera for the bike to ride those first 20 miles from the Tennessee border into NC. There are some super curves through there, and two tunnels to go through. I did succumb and honk my horn while going through the second tunnel. (It's a 139 decibel air horn for those of you who might have missed that detail...loudest thing on the market.) The skies were a beautiful blue with light clouds puffing here and there, and my wrists were getting a top coat baked on. I did put on sunscreen this morning, but they're pretty raw right now.

I didn't get many pictures on this last day, since it was mainly business (ride to get home!) but I did stop at the SC border sign :) From that point, it's about 32 miles to my house. There's a steep grade down the mountain for the first 10 or so miles, and then a country highway heading in to Travelers Rest from the north and down to Greenville. I was making super good time, and even with starting as late as I did, I was on track to make it home by 5:30. Yee haw!

The first stoplight when heading back into civilization was red, and I was the first one in line, next to a convertible Toyota Solara. The light changed and I gave it throttle up the hill, zooming through first, second, third, CRUNCH! and then lost power. Down shifted, but nothing was going to the back wheel. I was able to coast to a turning area in the median, and stopped the bike. I got off to look at the chain, because I had a sneaking suspicion...I looked, leaned, looked some more and saw a rear sprocket with no trace of a chain. A pickup pulled up beside me to inform me the chain was laying back at the other end of the median. I was 12 (t-w-e-l-v-e) miles from my house. Did I mention TWELVE?

Jump back in time with me for a minute. When I was due to get the bike back from the body shop, my friend was going to bring the bike down to Greenville on a trailer from Rock Hill to deliver it. He was going to be getting down on the late side, so I'd talked with TJ about the possibility of meeting us that evening to put the bike in his shop. He agreed and gave me his personal cell phone number to let him know how things progressed that evening. Turns out the bike wasn't delivered until the next morning, but I still had the cell phone number in my phone.

Once I'd walked back and retrieved the chain, and settled down by my crippled ride, I proceeded to call that cell phone number, praying that he'd answer. On about the fourth ring, he did, and I told him my tale of woe. He happened to be working in his garage right then, which is about 15 miles away, and was able to hook up a trailer and come out to pick me up. (Have I mentioned that I love having a good mechanic? Thanks again, TJ :) In the meantime, I had a couple of people check in on me, and another rider stopped to see if I needed help. He was a bike mechanic from Florida, riding a BMW R1200 GS Adventure. He looked at the chain and said the master link had most likely been incorrectly installed, since it was patently missing from the remaining chain. I told him I had someone coming by with a trailer, and he offered his condolences. He also offered me a beer :) I'm a bit of a beer snob, so instead of asking what he had, I thanked him but told him I'd pass. It was pretty funny in retrospect...I can imagine what TJ would think as he drives up to get my bike and I'm waiting, beer in hand! He did show up shortly and we loaded up the bike, strapped it down and hauled it back into town. It was rather an inglorious ending to the grand saga, but rather fitting in its own way.

On Monday I plan to be talking to the guys in Kansas City who installed the chain last Friday (about 2,200 miles ago). The bike made it 488 miles today before throwing in the towel, and I'm glad it waited until I was that close to home before kicking. The final tally for the trip came to 3,176 miles in eight days of travel (two of those days being less than 150 miles).

In retrospect, would I do it again? To quote my friend in Fargo...you betcha! In a heartbeat! In a skinny minute! Would I have done anything differently? I'd probably want to have the seat modified for long distance travel. The stock seat can be brutal after a few hundred miles. I also might opt for a narrower CrampBuster (a throttle assist device - earlier referred to as a throttle rocker - but ThrottleRocker is a trademarked name :) thanksabunch, Dennis!). The one I used was wide enough that I had to hold my hand at an odd angle for in-town riding unless I rotated it out of the way, and my throttle hand thumb is giving me an occasional complaint. The only other occasional item of discomfort was just the low seat height (which translates into limited leg space). I've got a 34" inseam, and every once in a while my knees needed more stretch room than they had.

Also, to those who've read through here, drop me an email at k_skellenger@yahoo.com. I'd love to hear who you are and what you think. There were several hits from countries across the globe, and I'd be curious to know how you found about about this tale. I'll be somewhat at a loss when I don't have a daily adventure to compile (although I shall give the final update on the chain, and any other side effects from the trip).

I do have a sneaking suspicion, however, this won't be the last long distance trip for one particular rambler :)

Day 9 - Heading South Again

This morning saw a late start for my ride, since I was up late last night, tirelessly editing the day's blog entry for all both of my fans! (Yes, I said all both.) Alarm clock went off at 6:45, and I think I finally decided to fully become conscious around 7:45. Today was going to need to be a high mileage day, but I figured I wouldn't do any good if I was trying to get out there while still groggy. It's interesting how packing things up in the morning is such a time-consuming ritual. You can't just toss everything together...there's no space for error, so each morning is like a new Tetris puzzle to reassemble. I was finally heading out of my room to load the bike around 9, but after that still needed to grab a bite for breakfast.

I got a welcome surprise in the dining area by seeing Joan and her mother there, just finishing up a bite before going shopping. We got to chat a bit more and I grabbed a picture with her before heading out. Finally started the ride by going back over the big bridge at 9:40 a.m. On the way out, a school bus full of little kiddies was waving at me as I rode by. The big, bad biker lady with her smoked shield on her helmet gave them all a big wave back. Too bad they couldn't see my grin :)

And across Wisconsin I went. The trees just to the east of La Crosse stand as thick as the hair on a dog's back. The composition of them was different than back home, but it reminded me a lot of some of the NC mountains around Murphy or Franklin where trees are practically impenetrable. As I got past Wisconsin Dells and over to Madison, it reminded me some of Virginia. I thought I had a pretty good idea of the different parts of this country, but there's so much more out there to explore! Around the Dells, I started riding behind a pretty sharp looking Cadillac CTS (black, tinted, painted wheels) and that made the miles melt away. I like to try to find a buddy to ride with, usually. It keeps things interesting. Sadly, he was able to go more than 180 miles on a tank, and I had to leave him to fill up, and put on some rain gear. The ground where I stopped to fuel showed evidence of recent rain, and the air smelled like it, but I never saw it. I was about 120 miles north of Chicago when I stopped, and I called my buddy at the branch to find out what the weather was doing there. Cloudy, but no rain, so I just put on my rain jacket to give a little break from the wind, but didn't put any covers on the luggage.

My trip had me running through Chicago, and part of me wasn't thrilled with the idea of riding through a city with an urban population of over 9 million folks, but another part of me actually was thrilled with that very same idea. I wanted to be able to go through the city proper (since, after all, it's not every day I'm riding my motorcycle through Chicago), but not have to sacrifice half a day to do it. I got directions to Soldier's Field from Ray, my branch buddy (who also happens to be a CDL driver), as well as an alternate route to take if the traffic was too bad and I decided to skip the photo op. Joan had commented that if the traffic was moving at least 35 mph by the time I-290 split off from I-90, I'd be ok to head downtown. If it was only doing 5-10 mph, skip it and go around.

When I got to the split, the traffic was whizzing along, and continued to move briskly for another few miles, until we got around O'Hare. I was roughly six miles away from downtown, and when the sign said it was estimating 77 minutes to get there, it wasn't far off. Now, I've driven through Atlanta in my truck when it's been hairy, but today was that, magnified by a factor of 73. It was Friday afternoon at 2 p.m. in the third largest urban population in the US (after New York and L.A.) The lane radar had to be on ultra high alert and I was very diligent about defending my space. (Never had to use my horn, though :) My directions took me in to the city on I-90, getting off at Roosevelt and heading over to Lake Shore Drive. As rough as it was to get there, and including the hour and a half of driving warfare, it was SO worth it to be able to see the city along Lake Michigan. It was exactly what I was hoping to see :) Also, one of the obvious upsides to riding a bike came into play...you can park it on a sidewalk when all of the parking meters for cars are bagged :)) [and thanks again to the lady who took my pic with the bike...hope you enjoy the blog!]

While at my photo site, I called Ray again to find out the best way back out of the city from where I was. He mentioned something about Ryan somebody being really bad at night, and I wasn't sure what he meant. Later, I found out he was referring to the Dan Ryan Expressway, which was also I-94. He'd told me to go 90/94 all the way to I-80 and then across to I-65. When I was going along, I-90 and I-94 split into two separate routes, one being the Dan Ryan Expressway, and the other being the Chicago Skyway. I had to make up my mind pretty quickly which of the routes to take, and I opted for I-90 (the Skyway), which turned out to be wonderful. Even looking at the map tonight, that was just the perfect route. I left my downtown vista at 3:50 and within 25 minutes, I was back to going 70 mph, which is pretty amazing. Within 45 minutes, I was on I-65, heading south to Indianapolis. Ray had estimated it would take an hour to an hour and a half to get to I-65, so I was tickled to have chosen that route. Part of the Skyway went over this enormous bridge, and I probably would have enjoyed the view more if I wasn't trying to anticipate huge winds that usually accompany bridges like that. There weren't any stiff winds, thankfully, and the little bit of the view I did enjoy was just beautiful.

Once I got onto I-65, it was another 140 miles to go to reach Indianapolis. My (pipe dream) goal for today was to ride just past Cincinnati, which is another 100 miles beyond Indy, but that didn't take into account the physical and mental drain of riding for over two hours in Friday Chicago traffic. As I was making my way south, the clouds were looking very moist up ahead, and again the ground showed evidence of recent rains. I started to notice fatigue creeping in, and realized I'd never had a lunch break for the day. Breakfast was an English muffin with peanut butter and honey, and since then I'd had a Zone bar, a bottle of water and a handful of M&Ms. It was now pushing 7:30 (6:30 to my still Central time zoned self) and I decided to stop to eat at the first Cracker Barrel I saw. Turns out the next one was only five miles down the road, but those five miles were probably some of the longest ones of the trip so far.

When I sat down to eat, I was pretty wiped out. I'd only had one small cup of coffee in the morning, so I got a Coke and stocked up on sugar and caffeine. I had a grilled chicken and pineapple salad that was pretty good, and by the time I left, I felt almost human again. It's amazing what a little food will do for you!

Indianapolis was now only 60 miles away, and I rode in while a beautiful sunset was being painted across the sky. I wanted to get out of the city, heading to Cincinnati before calling it a night, and I once again had to stop for gas. After I'd fueled, it was past twilight, and I got back into traffic for a few more miles. I was feeling pretty good, but knew I didn't want to ride until I felt tired, because that's too late. The next exit was in Shelbyville, IN, and had a Super 8, and although it was only 85 miles shy of my original goal of Cincinnati, I decided to be discrete and valorous.

Once I got settled in my room, the true state of my weariness kicked in, and I was very glad to have made the decision to stop. The motel is a little interesting, but I think it will provide what I need for the night. Today was 513 miles, and I've another approximate 500 miles to push through tomorrow to get me back home. Might be another late-ish start, but I don't have to go through Chicago, so I think I'll be fine :) One more day, and this ramble will be done.

Day 8 - Motorcycle - Heal Thyself!

If you needed a sandwich for that other long post, you might as well order out pizza and put on your fuzzy bunny slippers before reading this one.

Got to bed last night around 1 a.m. and woke up to a beautiful morning a little before 7. I lounged some, checking a couple of websites, sending a couple emails, and then got everything tidied up. I didn't know if I was going to be spending another night in Lake City, or if I'd be heading down the road, but I went ahead and packed everything up so it was ready to load on the bike. I put everything back in the Jeep before going in to grab a bite of breakfast from the continental buffet (their toaster does English muffins beautifully!).

I'd just finished an orange and was rinsing my hands when my phone rang. It was Dennis, calling to see what we were going to do. He said the sight glass now appeared to be full of oil, and he asked to take the bike out for a spin to see if he could notice anything. When I got up to the house, he'd just gotten back. He said it ran ok, but it didn't seem like it had a lot of power. I had to chuckle. For a man who has a Ducati Monster S2R, my leetle bike might seem a bit underpowered. I rode it down the highway for a couple of miles and torqued the snot out of the throttle, and it ran like nobody's business. I did a u-turn and went back to his house (up the washboard gravel drive...nothing like a little off-roading in a Ninja :) and from there I followed him to the bike shop he'd mentioned the night before.

When I re-read my post from last night, I must put in a point of clarification. Dennis did not imply that the shop might try to pull a fast one unless he intervened. He was just trying to reassure someone from out of town that the folks from the little town were there to help out. (Please also remember that it was somewhere north of midnight when I finished that entry).

The aforementioned bike shop was a Honda dealership in Frontenac, MN, which is adjacent to Lake City. Chris Wise came up front and listened to my tale of woe. The main thing we were wanting to do was to get an oil change to homogenize the oil (since it was only pasteurized at this point) and to see how much oil was actually in the bike. When I rode it the seven or eight miles to the shop, the bike never hesitated. Chris went to the back to clear out a work space for the bike and took it right back. The filters he had for the Hondas were interchangeable with mine, so it was only a few minutes for him to get the oil changed. He drained over five quarts of oil from the bike, so it hadn't leaked any (and got majorly overfilled the night before).

While the bike was in the back, I chatted with Dennis some, asking about his business. Ever heard of HoneyCrisp apples? Up until probably 2007, his orchards (Pepin Heights) had the dominant market share for this apple, and have only recently been displaced by growers in Washington state who are planting trees by the square mile. You know how it is when someone is really passionate about their work and you can tell it interests them and they know all the nooks and crannies? That was Dennis Courtier...he loves his work, and I learned more about apples this morning than I thought I ever could. Everything from business models, to propagation methods, to the history behind the orchard he bought in 1978 (it had been in the family, and the sentinel line of trees forming the windbreak on top were planted decades ago by his maternal grandfather). I never knew that apple varieties were considered intellectual property, and that trees that produce particular varieties cannot be called by the same name as the fruit. I never knew that if you plant a seed from a particular apple, you will not grow the same type of apple the seed came from. Root stock and grafting. About traditional orchards, planting 40 trees to the acre, and newer methods which use a dwarf tree that tops out at about eight or nine feet, maximizes sun exposure on the leaves (and planting rows north to south to equalize that exposure as the day progresses), and allows for somewhere around 600 trees per acre. About using minimal pesticides, and being certified as sustainable agriculture. About realizing the ecosystem that goes with the trees, and mowing ever other row between the trees every other time, so there is always some home for the beneficial bugs who like the tall grass.

Dennis went off to his office while I waited for the bike to be finished up, which was only another 15 minutes or so. Chris rode the bike back around to the side of the building, as much puzzled now as before. It was running fine, with no evident leaks or major problems. The consensus was that maybe I just got some bad gas, or some kind of gunk in a fuel line that blew through, or the vent got temporarily clogged. I'd been riding in rain for 60 miles as well, so there's the possibility that a monkey wrench magically appeared with that as well. I went up front to settle up, and he charged me only for the filter and oil, donating his labor to the trip, for which I thanked him (then and now :). If you're ever going through Frontenac, MN, be sure to stop in and say hi!

After I got the bike back, I rode down to the Pepin Heights main office to get my luggage back and Dennis drove me up to the orchard atop the bluff so I could get some fabulous shots for the blog, as well as to give me the insider's tour. I have a bit of a green thumb, and love being around people who know plants, and I like to pick their brains and ask questions. It was like I was on the world's best field trip, and frankly, I would have missed out on a rare treat had my bike not broken down :)

When the tour was done, Dennis had to go consult with someone about a few trees, and I readied the bike for the next leg of the trip. I got a sympathetic ear from Pennie, the office manager (who also rides) while tying up my last loose ends. Throughout my adventures in Lake City, I also got to make another friend, named Rose. She is Mr. Courtier's twelve year old Springer Spaniel, and if you looked up the definition of sweetheart in the dictionary, you'd see her picture in Technicolor. When we were touring the orchards, she rode along in the Jeep, in the little Rose-sized cave down in the passenger's side foot area. I think she's only known major affection in her life and it shows. Be a good girl, Rosie!

Once everything was sorted back out on the bike, I pointed the front tire south and pushed on down Highway 61. Today, the weather was gorgeous. A little cool, blue skies and puffy clouds. I was able to enjoy the ride to La Crosse thoroughly, and I made it to the hotel by about 2:15. I was enjoying a night at the Courtyard Marriot courtesy of my brother's frequent business travel with them, and the room was a nice suite with a king sized bed and jacuzzi tub in the corner. I noticed the room faced downtown La Crosse, and a bit hesitant (but figured you don't know unless you ask), I called downstairs to ask if there was a room with a river view I might be able to switch to. The lady who answered the phone said she would check and call right back. Call back, she did, saying they could switch me out, but the room would likely be a little smaller and not have a microwave. I said that was perfectly fine, since I wasn't likely to bring anything back on my motorcycle that would need to be microwaved.

With that statement, a new friendship sprang up between me and Joan, who has ridden for the past 30 years :) I tell you, these biker folks are everywhere! Of course, I had to regale her with tales of my most recent adventures, and she was all excited for me. This turns out to be a very bike-friendly Marriot. They even keep a box out front with pucks cut from plywood for side stands, and rags to wipe bikes down in the morning. In fact, my bike is currently parked under the portico out front, about 25 feet from the main entrance. Joan's husband is named Harley, and he also rides one, and Joan rides a Honda. Hiawatha!

While we were out front, talking about the bike, she asked who I knew in La Crosse, and I mentioned where I worked, and she (as well as the hotel's manager) just happens to know someone pretty well who works there, and was able to give me directions to get to our branch. Crazy! I rode out to the branch and met some folks I'd talked to on the phone before, as well as some new folks. One guy named Jerry had heard about my trip, and was just tickled to hear about the journey. I don't know if he was more enthusiastic, or if I was! You just don't get the same kind of vacation in a car, I tell you!

The branch closed down at 4:30 and I got a quick picture with my curmudgeon of choice (who always has to mention something about me being CORPORATE whenever I call for something). From there, I went up Losey Boulevard to Main Street, headed right and up to Grandad Bluff, which gives you a shot over the whole valley. It really reminded me of some of the nicer parts of the NC moutains up there. Lots of trees that you can just lose yourself in, and these country roads that tantalize. I couldn't ride far, because I still hadn't filled up since the stop south of St. Paul, and didn't want to get out in the middle of nowhere and be stranded by something as stupid as running out of gas. Back in town, I went the other direction on Main Street to the hotel, and had to stop for one house shot. Joan later said it belonged to a mayor of the town at one point. It's a biggie!

I got back around 6:15 and had some free nachos out in the gazebo by the river, enjoying the sights and sounds. When I was heading back up to my room, Joan was heading out and asked if her directions got me to my branch. We talked for a little, and I asked about local eating spots and if it was ok to walk around down there. I wanted to get a shot of the world's largest six pack, which was about five blocks away. I'd had a margarita with my chips and was done riding for the night, so Joan offered to drive me down there for a quick photo op, and I rushed up to my room to get my camera. I got my picture, and then she mentioned another oddity of La Crosse, which is a huge Indian statue down where three rivers (Black, La Crosse, and Mississippi) converge. I took the picture and then noticed the nameplate. One of my pet words is 'Hiawatha!' I use it as my own exclamation to express dismay, excitement, amazement, disgust...it's a pretty flexible word. It was a nice conclusion to the day, for the name of the statue to be...Hiawatha!

Joan dropped me back at the hotel, recommending a local restaurant that delivered, and I took her up on her suggestion...thanks, ma'am! Piggy's was quite good! I settled in to my room with its grand view of the Mississippi River. It turns out they upgraded me to the presidential suite, which I'm pretty sure has more square footage than my house. (That's not an exaggeration, either....very small house :) Tried out the jacuzzi tub to make sure it works, and I'm happy to report all of the jets work nicely.

Tomorrow starts the push for home. I've got to go through Chicago and would like to make it as far as Cincinnati, OH. That's about 575 miles. A little strong, but doable. When my directions were sucked out of my bag in Iowa, that included some notes I had about getting into downtown Chicago for some photo ops. I'll have to call my driver buddy tomorrow who lives in the city and have him go over those instructions again :) It's good to know people!

Day 7 - La Crosse, WI...well not quite

The sun comes up pretty early in these northern parts, so it was easier to get up this morning at 6:30 than I thought it would be, especially since I didn't conk out until about 12:15 a.m. Once up, it was that fun time of repacking everything and loading back up to head out. Wiped the top layer of bugs off the bike and noticed a new rock chip on the front. Boo hiss. I headed out right at 8:00, only about three miles away from I-94, with 250 to go before lunch.

While I didn't have the winds of Tuesday (heavenly relief), I also didn't have the balmy temperatures of Tuesday, either. No, they weren't balmy, really, but in comparison to today, the temps yesterday were a near heat wave. I headed out of Glyndon, MN, at 43 degrees and got into the Twin Cities at 48 degrees. I found it quite ironic that last Thursday I was sweating up a storm in St. Louis, wishing I'd packed my mesh jacket, and today my hands were doubling as ice cubes and I wished I had some heated gloves. There was a bit of road construction, but most of that wasn't too bad. However, the closer I got to the cities, the more impatient drivers became, tending to pass on the right as the preferred activity. I had my ultra simple directions again, and this time it worked, getting me to the PeopleNet headquarters in Chaska, where I met up with my main account rep and had lunch after a mini tour of the premises. It's kind of fun to be nonchalant about having ridden a bucketload of miles, and just 'dropping in'.

Just as the wind had sapped my strength the day before, the cold zapped me pretty good today, so even after lunch and a break of almost two and a half hours, I wasn't looking forward to those last 180 miles. I hadn't had rain yet, but the forecast for La Crosse, WI, wasn't good, and when I talked to Jim at the branch down there, it was raining even then. Rawr. Finally, I decided it was time to push off, and after the quick glamour shot (this time the braid stayed!) with Tim, I headed back out. Did have a little hairy traffic going around 494, but nothing too awful. However, by the time I got off to Highway 61, which would take me along the Mississippi River on my way to La Crosse, I was on fumes again, and took one of the first exits I saw to get gas.

Slight aside - when I was going across Missouri, I stopped to get gas in Columbia, and ended up taking an exit that wasn't the most commercial, and the gas station wasn't my favorite, so I never got off the bike while fueling. I took the magnetic tank bag off the front and set it on top of one of the saddlebags while fueling. Finished up and rode off. Just after I turned left onto the road that would take me back to the interstate, I looked in my right side mirror and saw my tank bag still resting atop the saddlebag, simply balancing there. I quickly pulled over and was able to get the bag back on the tank and keep going. No harm, not foul. When the bag is installed, I can't see it below the chin guard of my helmet unless I tilt my head down specifically to check.

Back to my Minnesota exit to get gas. I got off the bike and put it on its center stand to fuel, with the tank bag again resting on a saddlebag. I almost went inside for a quick bathroom break, but decided not to. Put on my rain jacket, hopped on the bike and rode back out to the interstate. At the light to turn right on the entrance ramp, I heard someone honking, but didn't look. As a rule, I don't look when folks honk...usually it's nothing I want to see and no one I know. Headed down the acceleration ramp and started down the road. However the wind patterns seemed different and I looked down. Saw the top of my tank instead of the top of my tank bag. Cuss!! The next exit had a frontage road that went right back to where I was, so I hopped right on that road and retraced to the gas station, but the headlights behind me looked familiar. As I was waiting to turn left into the gas station, the car that was behind me pulled up alongside, and the driver rolled down his window to hand me my tank bag :)) He was the one who honked and was following me to get my bag back to me. He said that he also rode and was always worried about leaving something behind. You'll never read this, Mr. Lexus Man, but I thank you again heartily for taking care of me. (Remember those prayers working in Kansas City? They're still carrying me in Minnesota...as there is more to see.)

Reunited with my bag, I keep rolling on. I stopped briefly to go ahead and put on my rain pants, since the mist has turned into a drizzle that keeps coming down. My road is a state highway that is going through several small towns, one of which is Red Wing, where the shoes are made. At one intersection, while waiting at a red light, I notice there seems to be some smoke coming from the front of the bike. It wasn't billowing or bad, so I thought maybe some oil had dripped on the radiator, and figured I'd keep pushing on to La Crosse, WI, if I could, and get it checked out tomorrow, since that was basically a rest day (or a "cruise around and see the sights" day). Shortly out of Red Wing, I had a brief loss of power, similar to what I'd had in Fargo when I ran low on gas, but that couldn't be the problem, because I was only about 40 miles into this tank. The bike stabilized back out and I got to second guessing myself, wondering if I'd inadvertently caused it to happened by pressure on the throttle rocker. Whatever the case, I continued to ride gently. I passed a couple of small burgs, still pushing on.

As I came up to Lake City, MN, there was a really pretty pull-off to be able to take pictures, but, similar to yesterday, when it's cold and I'm tired, I don't much want to stop to take pictures. I kept going, figuring La Crosse was only another 50 miles or so. Just past Lake City, there was a gentle hill, and as I started up it, the bike again lost power (uh oh). This time it was a decided slow-down, and twisting the throttle did nothing, so I pulled in the clutch to let it coast up the hill and the engine died while it was still rolling.

Honestly, after seeing God's care in Kansas City and again even today with the tank bag, I wasn't terribly upset when this happened. Just curious to see what would happen. I was supposed to check in with another friend in La Crosse when I got there, so I called him to let him know I wouldn't make it. It was still raining, and I'd come to a stop just past a kind of rural driveway to a house up a bit of a hill. It didn't look like anyone was there...lots of big windows, but not many lights. There was a Jeep in the driveway, so I trudged up the driveway, hoping I wouldn't look too scary for anyone who might be there. Just as I was getting to the top of the drive, a door beside the garage door opened and a gentleman came out, asking if I was having problems. I said yes, that my bike was broken and I was very sad (although with a pretty chipper voice and a smile). He said, "Well, you picked the right place to break down..." and clicked his garage door opener. The lifting door revealed four motorcycles lined up showroom style in the right half of the two car garage...a couple of British bikes, an '08 Ducati monster and a Suzuki Bandit, all gleaming and beautiful. I almost laughed in sheer joy!

I told him a bit of my story (he was at the house by himself, getting ready to leave and meet his cousin for supper) and we walked back down the driveway to look at the bike. I showed him the bad news I'd noticed when I stopped the bike. The sight glass on the side of the clutch case that shows your oil level was scarily empty. When I'd left Chaska, it was 90% full. Now, there was nothing. I was able to start the bike and ride it up the driveway into his garage, and we put in a quart and a half of some synthetic oil he had, but still nothing was showing up in the sight glass. Started it again, and with some throttle, could get the burning oil to duplicate. There is a shop in town that he (Dennis, the knight on the white charger) knows, and the bike is spending the night in his garage until we can get it down to the shop in the morning. In the meantime, he let me borrow his (white) Jeep to be mobile tonight, while I'm staying at the AmericInn. In the morning, we are due to connect and figure out plan B on the bike. He seemed to think with his connections at the shop, as well, there won't be any danger of me getting taken for a ride with the repairs. So here I am again, with what would seem to be a bad situation, but giving God glory for his watchcare. Tomorrow will hopefully tell what the scoop is on the bike. I'm not really worried about it...there's no point :)

As before, I've reached the stupid sleepy point, so I'm throwing in some pics and calling it a day. But still smiling :) And I did go back and get the lake shot that was pretty...

Day 6 - Fargo, ND

Sorry for the delay in posting this, but my wifi connection got hosed when I used the LAN connection in Nebraska. However, one call to my brother who is the family owned Geek Squad, and I'm back together (thanks again). So on to yesterday...

Tuesday was a hard ride, no two ways about it. I got up and had a nice breakfast with Jan and Leonard before heading out, but the skies looked ominous. I put rain covers on all the luggage and put my Frogg Togg jacket on over my regular riding jacket to help block additional wind as I rode. The temps started out in the upper 50s, but started to sink as I rode north.

I had a new companion on this trip this time...the wind (the video is a very good representative slice of the day, double click to play). For all 345 miles of riding, I had a west wind coming at me from the left. It made the entire ride feel like I was having an argument with the bike. I wanted it to stay in a fairly straight line in one lane, but he wanted to meander, occasionally from lane to lane. This time I kept adding layers at each stop instead of shedding, and still was staying on the cool side. About 100 miles into the trip, I noticed that my hair felt like the breeze was starting to catch it. Sure enough, I'd lost my pony tail holder, and the braid was no more. One more ride like that and I'll be grabbing some scissors!! I took Highway 81 north from just below Yankton, SD, and took it north, with one jog to the east up until Watertown, SD. At that point I got onto I-29 North and started putting the miles behind me, while fighting (still) the wind from my left. Finally, I rolled into Fargo around 3:45 p.m., seven hours after I'd left. There had been some slight misting rain, but nothing of any import.

I went by our branch and got to meet some folks I regularly talk to on the phone. I was staying with the family of one of my friends from the branch, and after a short rest, I followed him on the bike while he went to pick up his son from after school care. While I was tracking him on the interstate across town, the bike started to act a little peculiar, surging and losing power. I hunkered down some to see if that would help, if it was just the wind buffeting the bike, but that didn't help. After the next surge, my brain clicked...I was on the verge of running out of gas from my regular supply, so I reached down and flipped the switch to my reserve fuel while riding. The bike settled down after about three seconds, and when we stopped at the school, I mentioned that I needed gas, and the next stop was the station at the end of the street. I put 4.345 gallons in the tank that only holds 4.8 total gallons (4.2 regular and .6 reserve), so I was definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel. That beating I took on the ride up there translated into 36.7 mpg. Even with a twisty wrist, the worst I've gotten so far has been 46 mpg, so that tells you how much the wind was fighting the bike.

Once I arrived at Darren and Darla's house, I got to meet the kids Logan and Gabbie, who seemed to think I was all right :) The terrier, named Izzy took a little longer to warm up to me, but eventually decided I was not going to do any damage to the house. Supper was at Johnny Carina's, which has HUGE portions (!) and then back to the house to veg for the night. I ended up getting the tour of the 'being remodeled' basement (which had some interesting outside corners on the drywall) and settling in to chat for the evening. About midnight I dragged my sorry self off to bed and had no problem at all dropping off to sleep. I had a lunch date set the next day in Chaska, MN, about 250 miles away, so even getting to bed that late, I still had to get up around 6:45 a.m. to gear up, pack up, load up, eat up and saddle up.

Oh, and one more aside. I always thought that Iowa had the richest, most beautiful soil. The soil in the Red River Valley isn't just dark. It's literally black, black, black. Although the corn was popping up in Iowa, they'd only just gotten seed planted in Fargo, so the expanse of the soil was unbroken in large parts. Bee-yew-tee-ful!

Day 5 - Hartington, NE

Only 100 miles ridden today, but they were over some very pretty rolling hills with long sweeping curves. Most of my trip I've used the mid grade gasoline in the bike, but this morning, I used the low grade, even though it cost more than the mid grade. What? Mid grade around here uses ethanol, which makes for cheaper gas (that burns less efficiently and gives you stinky mpg).

The corn is just starting to poke up in the contours and rows, and across the terraced farmland, big furry green berms of grasses divide the different levels of rich brown soil. The google map estimate of 3 hours and 26 minutes proved to be extremely erroneous. I made it to Hartington in a shade over 2 hours, and that was with multiple stops to take pictures, and traveling at a fairly relaxed pace.

From Orange City, I rode west on Highway 10, and hooked up with Highway 12 in Hawarden. From there I went south, intending to go to Westfield before catching Highway 3 across to Highway 50 in South Dakota. However, in Akron, there was a sign listing a detour for West 3, and I decided to commit. Within 500 feet of heading west on the detour, I was in South Dakota and contined west for some time. Doubt started to creep in, if the detour for Highway 3 would put me beyond Highway 50 or not, but after a few more miles, the detour started tracking south, and within about five miles, it ended in a T intersection, and the road before me was SD50...woo hoo!

Things went swimmingly until I got through Vermillion, SD. At that point, I was looking for Highway 15 to take me south into Nebraska. The roads through town were torn up, and I never saw a sign for Highway 15. Just past the end of town, I passed a sign for Highway 19, heading to Newcastle, NE. I remembered that town was on a small road that Highway 15 connected with, so I pulled a U-ey and headed down Highway 19. In about five miles, I came up on the Missouri River, which started me singing a Kingston Trio song, and I pulled off at a scenic overlook just past the bridge, which was now on Nebraska land. Once I left the overlook, the first thing I saw was the highway sign...which just happened to be Highway 15! Perfecto Mendoza! The road ended in a T like it was supposed to, I turned west. The next two towns/burgs/villages I rode through were interesting for the fact that the population of the local graveyards were more than the people living in the town.

According to google maps for Hartington, NE, I needed to come down Highway 15 from Highway 12, which would have me entering from the northwest side of town. I found the turnoff for Highway 15 and headed down it, sure to enter Hartington soon. After a few miles, I saw a sign for Hartington turning to the right, 9 miles down the road. Huh? This meant I was way east of Hartington on 15, and in fact I was. Apparently there were some switches to road names a while back, and what shows as Highway 15 on the map is actually Highway 57. Helpful, that.

Once in town, I made it to Jan and Leonard Snook's house, probably raising a few neighborly eyebrows at the motorcycle that was parked in their driveway. I worked with Jan in Greenville up until last year when she and Leonard relocated back to Nebraska. She was probably one of the main catalysts to get this trip going, and it was really good to see them, along with Butch, their pug, and Sundance (aka Sunny) a rescue pug they took in back in January. It's only a short stopover tonight, but it's been a good visit (and I got the grand driving tour of Hartington this afternoon!)

Tomorrow has Fargo in sight, which is about 330 miles away. Forecast is a.m. rain, with a clearing afternoon. Looks like rain gear will be getting an extra workout!

Day 4 - Orange City (again)

Today (Sunday) was my last day in Orange City, with me heading out to Hartington, NE, tomorrow. The weather isn't looking too bad...only 30% chance of isolated developing in the afternoon, and I'm hoping to be there before lunch. Interestingly enough, google maps shows the distance as only 95 miles, but says to estimate three hours and 26 minutes. I'm hoping they're smoking crack on that one...that would average out to twenty seven miles per hour for the entire trip. Even if I get caught behind an International Harvester bopping along, it won't be for the whole trip!

This morning I went to my aunt and uncle's church, along with my grandfather and visiting cousins. Grandpa Conway is 91 years old and Grandma is 87, still living in their own house in town, with regular care and visits by my aunt Vivi, who is fast approaching sainthood. We had lunch all together at Vivi and Duane's house, where I got to show my little computer off to Grandma and Grandpa (with pictures from back home). This afternoon, the family went to visit Duane's mother in LeMars, while I stayed behind to get things in order for leaving tomorrow, and even got to hear the sermon from my home church via the webcam they use...rather nice to keep in touch that way. This evening we had dinner on the deck out back - the weather has been super nice while I've been here. Not too hot, and the evenings beg for folks to come outside and enjoy the low humidity, lack of bugs and songs of birds.

In the morning, I'm planning to roll out of here around 8:30 or 9:00, swing by my grandparents' house for a final hug goodbye (and probably try to convince my Grandma one more time that she really can't ride pillion with me), and then head off on the next leg.

I want to see a parade tomorrow!