Alaska
2004
|
||
Day 01 July 9 |
||
I thought this day would never get here for hope deferred makes the heart sick. The Redbird is packed, polished, pruned and ready to pull out. My alarm goes off at 4:30 AM but I am already wired and ready to roll. A quick shower, a little pig meat and hen fruit, a big kiss for the missus, a post on the site and I'm off like a dirty shirt. I love to meet fellow riders along the way and will try to see as many as I can during this trip. I've been blessed to meet and hug quite a few along the roads of America and I consider it a great honor. This trip will be no exception. Looking at what state lines I have left to shoot for the second time, I pick a route up through Kentucky and through Indiana, across Iowa and then on to meet Rex Petersen (who had left me in the middle of nowhere in a driving rainstorm! ;-)) and Tom in Omaha for supper. After my post - "Last one to Omaha is a rotten egg" - I know I do not have much time to fool around. I snag my Indiana sign quickly and move on. |
||
When my reserve light comes on I figured I'd better get some gas or I will be pushing the Redbird. I finally find some gas in Somewhere Illinois where farmers are sitting around the store talking about what to use on pond weeds. The clerk notices my bike and gear and my flag flying in the wind - "Where are you headed?"
he asks. "Alaska - with a few stops
in between" I say with a grin. "Alaska?" he responds
with a question as if I was a few pounds short of a full feed bag. I just smile and begin to walk
back to the bike. The farmers all turn their heads toward me like wind
vanes in a full prairie blow. I can tell by the look on their grizzled
faces I might as well have said I was headed for the moon for it seemed
closer to them than Alaska. I wonder if they ever think about traveling.
Or was killing pond weeds as exciting as it ever gets for them. Life is
an adventure only if we are willing to make it one and sad is the man
that only dreams of adventure. But it's another two tanks before supper
so I know I'd better get it in the wind. With my favorite bluegrass tunes
and the hum of the Redbird to keep me company, I click off the miles before
the reserve light comes on again. I've never run her out of gas and sure
don't plan to today. I hate to stop once I'm in road mode, so I try to
plan fuel, food, and bathroom breaks all at the same time. It's close
to lunch and I figure I'll take a break. I find an old reliable Cracker
Barrel in Columbia, Missouri. My waitress is Shamon and she is curious
about where I'm headed. "I'm up to Alaska, then
down to California and back to Tennessee. If you could hurry up the kitchen
I'd be much obliged." I'll learn on this trip that
the reaction is always one of almost disbelief. "Well, at least that'll be cooler than here" she says with a faraway look in her eyes. She rushes off to get my order
in and I sit patiently waitin' for my ½ gallon of tea and pound
of sweet and low. It has been hotter than blazes and the thoughts of cooler
weather sure seems good to me. Thankfully, the food comes quickly, and
I wash it down with all the tea I can get. I know it's still a pretty
good haul to Omaha, but sometimes you just got to feed the beast. The
heat has taken it's weary toll, so I take the extra time. I leave Peter
Menard a quick voicemail to let him know where I am and think for a moment
how he will wish he was here while he kicks his desk. With a little careful
planning, my next stop should be Omaha. I gas the Redbird plumb up to
the neck, squeezing in every drop I can get in. As I approach the Iowa
border, I look for the sign. It's become a habit - count down the miles
and watch for a place to pull off. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's
dangerous but I manage to sort it out. This one will be a cakewalk and
I'm glad. I do the drill, take the shot of the Redbird at the line and
I'm off in a flash. |
||
Sure
enough, I'm able to make it to the place where I am to hook up with Rex
and Tom. As I pull into the lot, looks like I am the rotten egg. Rats, I
had a hunch it would be that way. Tom has been there a little while and
Rex beats me there by 5 minutes. |
||
"Where do you want to
eat?" he asks. "Somewhere good and local
- I can eat the chain places when I'm at the house" I tell him. Since he's seen me eat on several occasions, and he feels bad about abandoning me in the rain in the middle of nowhere Nebraska the last time, Rex has a great place picked out for dinner - Petrows. |
||
It's the kind of place that
only the locals know and where you had better be wearing big britches
if you plan on being comfortable after the meal. It's great to see Rex
and Tom again and we enjoy great fellowship over great food. We wind up
our ball of twine and walk outside. Then Rex says - "Wait a minute, I've got
something for you" and produces a small ice chest. I'm thinking "We're all
full as a tick and this sure is a funny time to be breaking out ice cream." In his chest full of dry ice he has brought GooGoos as a special present for us. We all have a good laugh about that and I stash them in my saddlebags. |
||
What a man and what a gentleman Rex is and I hate to leave. But Tom and I still have to make Sioux Falls before our heads hit a pillow, So we mount up and head back to the slab. With 185 more miles to go, we get after it. The sunset is gorgeous canvas of reds and purples that only the Master Painter can provide. It's a fitting backdrop to contemplate how blessed I am to have met so many great and kind folks thanks to a website run by a fellow in Norway. When we finally arrive at the motel, we check our odometers. We both have 905 miles on them - but I came from Nashville, Tennessee and he came from Avon Lake, Ohio. This will not be the last time such unusual things happen on this trip. | ||