Town after town passes by as
quickly as the leaves whirl around our tires. As we move through Ionia
with Guy leading, I hear Coop yell -
"Hey, we just missed a
turn."
I nod, and we continue to
follow Guy. I figure we are headed in the generally right direction and
can straighten it out later. I notice that I have a distinct advantage
over Coop and Guy since I am more heavily loaded and weight more than
both of them. The wind blows, but I'm ridding steady as a rock. It's getting
warm and I am beginning to wonder about why on put on the heated gear.
I am abruptly roused from my reverie as Betty Boop, my ever faithful radar
detector informs me
"Be careful, X alert."
A local constabulary has just
beamed us, looking for some easy out of state revenue. Then it happens
- I see Guy pull off the road like he's having some sort of attack. Coop
takes one look as says -
"Whew, what happened to you?"
"Don't know, something must
have hit me" Guy responds.
I take a look and figure it
out pretty quickly. Seems as if he had his visor up and a not so friendly
bee decided to get a piece of the action. A bit of blood trickles down
his cheek and I can already see it beginning to swell. I wish I had a
little chewing tobacco cause that's what the old timers put on stings
to draw the poison out. But the problem would have been finding someone
to chew the nasty stuff. Sometimes the cure can be worse than the disease.
"Hang on bro" I tell
him. "I've got something for that in my bag of tricks."
I dig a little bit and come
up with some ointment that should do the trick. As I always say -
"Prepare for the worst,
hope for the best."
The stuff starts working and
Guy gets some much needed relief. We come to the end of the road and stop
for a map check. We have not veered too far off and can turn right to
get where we need to be. I pull into the lead and we are off again. Somewhere
in the nice hills of Michigan I am nicely cranking the wick a bit and
happen to look back. No Guy and no Coop. Well, we either had a get-off
or I missed something interesting. I decided to ride back a bit to see
what's up. I see them coming so I turn around and we are off again. The
farther north we go, the happier I am that I have the Widder gear. I'm
as warm as a day-old biscuit laying in a sunny window. I mentally thank
Ron Wayden in absentia for his help in wiring the plugs and picking the
gear. We approach the Mackinaw with some concerns. I'm thinking again
-
"With me and my size,
my ST, and my gear - only a tornado would blow me around."
I am thankful for this unintentional
benefit as I ride across the bridge. I see a LANE CLOSED sign and shift
to the left lane. Then the pucker comes - it's wet grated steel with the
wind howling. Talk about a muscle tightening experience. I make a very
quick executive decision to move back to the right lane and take my chances.
Safe on the paved side, I enjoy the view as we meander across - the hillbilly
in me enjoying the view from a high spot. We decide to head to St. Ignace
and check into the Driftwood.
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