Day Three ~ Tuesday June 28, 2005
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David's dollar |
Lawrence, KS |
Lunch with Jordan |
More Lunch in Lawrence |
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Pistop at Betty's C-Store |
Bike Line-up |
Jawin' at the pitstop |
Taking a break |
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| No gas in Genoa, CO |
Dinner in Hays |
Porqua at the |
Josh, Amanda & Moe at the Golden Corral in Hayes, KS |
Uncle Bill reports from the East:
What a day. The day started out OK. We're driving really well together now. I-70 in Kansas is a toll road. David had his money in his shirt pocket. Well the dollar flew out and landed on Greg's and Alice's bike and there it stayed until the next pit stop. Who says a dollar doesn't go far these days?
Just east of Kansas City, we finally had to get out the rain gear. It rained all the way to Lawrence. It wasn't fun, but we got through it OK.
In Lawrence we met my daughter Jordan for lunch. We ate at Zen Zero. It was really good. I got to spend some time with Jordan while the others browsed around downtown. Rob bought a toy tractor and Mike got a haircut. And we gave away kazoos to anyone and everyone who we saw walking down the street. It was good fun. Wee got a lot of bewildered looks but by the time we left everyone was humming a tune. (Actually, they were all humming different tunes.)
I said my goodbyes and we got back on the road. The rain gear was on but wasn't needed, so it came off within 25 miles. Then we were down to some serious riding. Kansas is known for it's winds and today was no exception. We had a crosswind out of the southwest that knocked us around all the way to Hays. It was some very hard riding. I was behind Matt most of the time. He has the lightest bike with the highest profile so he really bounced around. Our gas mileage went way down as did out speed. We stopped a couple of extra times just to catch our breath and give our arms a break.
But all's well that ends well. As we pulled up to the hotel in Hays, there was Wayne and Loren. They arrived just minutes before we did. Dinner was all about catching up and seeing who had the better ride and the strongest winds.
Tomorrow we head north for Scott's Bluff, Neb. With any luck we'll leave the wind behind us.
Grits reports from the West:
The third day stared out great! The weather was perfect—mild, with just a hint of cloud on the horizon. We climbed along the river’s edge, going up while it rushed down. When the river turned the road turned and we turned with it. And the snow-capped peaks and the tumbling water kept us company all the way to Denver. But in Denver the mountains gave way to the plains and the cool mountain air to the stifling, hot and thick mass of only partially breathable muck laced with smog and agricultural fragrances of the bovine kind. But the road was the greatest heartache. The beautiful, sensual curves became rigid, rectilinear and flat. The only difference between this spot and that spot were the mile markers beside the road—and they were changing with enervating reluctance. Not to mention the headwinds which cut my already pitiful range to 80 miles. I went on reserve a ways out of Limon, Colorado and, after a few tense miles, pulled off at Genoa to get gas. The only trouble was Genoa hadn’t had gas in thirty years. Back on the road—slowly—another 12 miles to Arriba. We tempted fate again and won.
Razz and I were making good time. We were clocking along at around 90—95 miles every hour, but it still seemed slow. It was hot. It was @#$%$*& HOT! Plus I was getting cramped on the Magna. It wasn’t really set up for the road—no highway pegs, no sissy bar, no luggage rack—and to make it even harder, the passenger pegs were set so that I couldn’t use them either. I was stuck sitting like a preacher on a buckboard going to Sunday services. The Great Plains were becoming a Great Plain in the Butt. Hourafterhourafterhourafterhour. Finally, Hays Kansas became an actual town and not just some theoretical spot on a map! Razz, Porqua and I pulled up to the Fairfield Inn expecting to meet the group riding in from the east. They weren’t at the motel. We rode over to the Golden Corral but they weren’t there either. Odd. We rode back to the motel and, as we got off our bikes, nine assorted Harleys and Hondas and Buells spilled off the highway and into the parking lot. We were a full compliment at last! And that was the third day.