CHAPTER SIX

Being almost the midpoint of the trip, we thought this might be a good time to shorten the days ride a bit and about halfway on the southern leg on Hwy 550 was a cutover road hwy 50 going directly to Salida. Less miles and a shorter day meant we could rest a up a bit more and get our mental as well physical states prepared for the second half of the trip which was mostly interstate riding after Denver, which was on our route the next day, to make time to get home on schedule. Breakfast was in a long narrow room in the back of the Hotel, it was very crowded, I had no idea that many people were staying there that night. But, the waffles were pretty good. Heading out to the bikes to load up, which were nice and dry because the night clerks had allowed us to park them under the shelter the night before even though we really weren’t allowed to.

Starting up the mountain, it looked like the mountains I was used to, trees and streams, very colorful (green, not the rocky landscape we had grown accustomed to) like our own Blue Ridge Mountains back home, except there were no overlooks to stop at where you could see several miles, and possibly two or three states, and the real beauty of the many mountain ranges. On our right the road we followed a stream; it was rocky and looked shallow but very wide, probably a small river. It was funny how even when we were riding downhill the stream seemed to be flowing uphill. Optical illusion, I guess. Early on, I found a spot to pull over for a little R and R right in the middle of nowhere. The temperature felt like it was dropping some, so we dressed accordingly and continued on. The route was gorgeous, some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen. Good call, from the guy at the Harley shop. There was not a sign anywhere of civilization, just mountains. I kept thinking about the first pioneers who must have traveled this Pass, and what they experienced seeing this part of God’s creation for the first time. Probably the first humans to witness such a view except possibly an Indian tribe living here since almost from the beginning of time. I wondered if they even appreciated its beauty. They probably did since they were always reportedly so conscious of taking care of the land. I also thought about the Donner party and their travels over whatever part of the mountain they took on their way across the mountain range to find a better life out west, and prayed we didn’t fall into their same fate.

Finally reaching the bottom, Joel pulled up beside me and said he was running on fumes. (I knew I should have stopped and gassed up in Aspen.) Soon we came upon some resemblance of the modern era although it seemed to be set back in an earlier time period. A store with a single old timey gas pump for which they had to turn on inside the store, pumped very slow, but at least it was petro. Being told there were no facilities inside, I never went inside but Joel said it wasn’t much and the bathrooms were outside across the street. Across the street there was a parking lot next door to a building of some sort of historic significance which was closed so I didn’t pay it much attention concentrating instead on the small building in back that held very much more importance to me. Labeled across the top of each of two doors was Men and Women signifying which one was for whom, so I headed for the Men’s. Opening the door, there was a sink and a toilet like any normal bathroom but when I lifted the seat there was no water and no bottom, inside it was open to the outside. It was an Outhouse. I hadn’t used one of those since I was a little boy one summer in Kentucky when we went to Saline Baptist Church and their bathroom was outside in an outhouse. It was an exciting for a young one, the first time experiencing the thrill of such old fashion technology, that is until I felt that cool breeze. That memory came back real quick.

Traveling on we soon came to a dead end, just like the man said, at hwy 24. We turned right and headed for Salida about 45 miles ahead. The rain started to get heavier and soon turned into a small downpour. Reaching the exit for Salida, we gassed up at the first gas station we came to, then on to the Holiday Inn. The clerks behind the front desk informed us of all the thunder storms and heavy rain we missed in Durango by altering our original course. The Lord was really looking out for us there. After our short easy day turned out not to be so much, we decided to stay in and order pizza, of which for obvious reasons shall remain nameless, and drinks. The hotel clerks were kind enough to open up the dining room for us and even brought us paper plates and napkins. They also agreed to leave the pool open an extra hour so we could enjoy the nightly pleasure of soaking in the hot tub, which was barely big enough for six of us.

CHAPTER SEVEN

As Time Goes By

We found the next day, Wednesday, to be very much overcast, but at least it wasn’t raining. The ceiling was high but visibility was poor at a distance and still a bit cool. On the way to Denver there was still one more big landmark to see before reaching Denver and hitting the interstate section of the trip. Pike’s Peak was one of those places that I knew little about but was very popular and not really knowing what to expect, was looking forward to seeing it. Our first segment not very interesting, straight, flat roads passing houses and fields like typical rural America. Occasionally passing a sign advertising ‘This particular Peak to the right’, or ‘That particular Peak to the left’, but not seeing anything in that direction because of the cloud cover, I assumed it was either a long ways off or not big enough to see therefore the need for the signs. Riding for about an hour and a half we stopped at a convenience store for gas and refreshments, and asked the young lady behind the counter as to the vicinity of Pike’s Peak. She told us we passed it about 20 miles back. I never saw a sign, which certainly there would have been one. So somehow I guess we missed it.

Continuing on toward Denver again brought big disappointment to me. Being stuck slap dab in the middle of the Colorado Mountains I expected it to be very hilly kind of like Bristol Tenn., but no, it was flat as a pancake, at least the part we went through. No particular personality to the part of the city we saw. It was about time for a stop so I began looking for a good place to stop. To my surprise there were no gas stations at any of the exits. We went all the way through Denver and not one place to stop at. By this time I was about to bust a gusset, as the saying goes, and finally we came to the airport exit and I thought surely there would be someplace somewhere down this exit. After about a mile or so all we passed was the back side of the airport where there was nothing but industry and gas companies like Valero and Standard, I hadn’t seen one of them for years. So giving up on that venture we made a u-turn and hit the interstate again. After several more exits I finally saw an exit with a shopping center and took it, There I saw a Chick Fil A and having to go all the way around your fingers to get to your thumb, finally found the secret entrance and first one in was Mark, he had to go bad. Feeling bad about using their facilities and not buying any food, I still had to go to the counter and ask if there was any gas close by. They told me "yeah, at the next exit". Figures.

After gassing up and resting some we got back on the interstate. Somehow we got separated probably a traffic light or something so I pulled over on the acceleration ramp and waited for them to catch up, and headed to Kearney, Nebraska our next nights stop.

The next day was pretty uneventful. Nothing to see just ‘Making Time and Headin Home’. Keith had taken the lead since he not only had cruise, which was helpful because my speedometer isn’t correct and the speeds on this stretch was often 80 mph. In Lincoln we took a cut through route from interstate 80 to interstate 29 which was long and straight and nothing but cornfields. From there on the biggest thrill was going through major cities I had never been through like Kansas City and Lincoln, and can now say I have been to. We ended up in Columbia, Missouri at a Holliday Inn Select for the night. For breakfast, the next morning, Jeff and I ate some $8.50 biscuits and gravy, and they weren’t fit to eat.

On Friday we hit the road headed for St Louis, Mo. Home of the infamous Arch, Gateway to the West. Early on, during the planning stage of the trip the only place I could think of I wanted especially wanted to see was the Arch. Almost as soon as we entered into St Louis, the St Charles area, we happened upon a Harley store so we stopped. This one was unusual, it was a Harley / Honda / Kawasaki / Suzuki dealership. I was kind of surprised Harley would allow them to share dealerships. It was a pretty big place but they didn’t have a whole lot in it. A few bikes, a lot of clothes, although nothing in the way of Kawasaki tee’s, and a huge parts and service area. In the way of bikes though there was one that caught Jeff’s eye. It was a Pearl white, 2009 Goldwing 1800 trike. I could see the saliva drooling from the side of his mouth. So much so he actually talked to a salesman about a trade. He was almost hooked. I could have probably pushed the issue a little more but I knew I would catch it from Momma when we got home so I didn’t. Instead, wiser heads prevailed and he had to settle for a bunch of pictures I took for him, I guess to remind him of what might have been.

After everyone had gotten their fill of bikes and T-shirts inside and checked out the custom made raffle bike outside, we moseyed over toward the bikes one by one; when we had all congregated there we had decided to try some of St Louis’ famous ribs. I returned inside to inquire as to where might be a good choice spot from which to partake thereof. Asking the first guy I came to, he said there was a place called Bandana’s across the hwy but didn’t think it was very good, so he went to find someone else who might know. Another gentleman came over and said he didn’t know of any rib place at all. So kindly the first guy went to find yet another who said Bandana’s was an excellent place, but for the good stuff we had to go downtown off Washington St. in the university area. I went back outside and announced to the gang that apparently St Louis wasn’t as famous for their ribs as their reputation. So we all voted to try Bandana’s. Sitting down in a nearly empty restaurant, being it was after rush hour, the waitress told us all the ribs came with a Memphis rub type seasoning and then whatever variety of BBQ sauce you wanted. Contented as we were with our meal everyone agreed it was some of the best we’ve ever had, but it was time to carry on.

Now, having previously noted the place I most wanted to visit, added to what I know what everyone is thinking "where are all these pictures being talked about throughout this story?" Well, let me tell you how that went. Heading back on interstate 70 south we were to cross the Mighty Mississip were therein lays the Arch. Keith was in the lead and I was second when in the distance to what do my wondering eyes should appear, the St Louis Arch. Wanting to take picture far away and close up I reached into my windshield bag where I stored my camera ever at the ready to just reach in, pull it out and snap to my heart’s content. I put my finger on the power button but forgot to hold on to the camera itself. Away it went tumbling to the road. Heart sick, I thought to myself "that was the dumbest thing I’ve done all day". Assuming it broken all to pieces what with all the busy traffic and the end of it, about two miles up the road most of the traffic disappeared and we came to a place Keith wasn’t sure where to go, so I motioned for him to take the exit we were coming up on. The exit came out right at the Cardinals baseball stadium parking lot, so I pulled in the parking lot and stopped, got off the bike and there right over my shoulder was the Arch. I comically asked if anyone happened to catch my camera as it went bouncing down the highway. I believe everyone was as grief stricken as I was but still they couldn’t hold back the wise cracks. They all took turns making fun of my stupidity, I just had to stand there and take it. Jeff’s biggest worry was for the pictures of his bike that was on it. While we stood with our backs to the Arch everyone else got to take pictures with their phone cameras, then I decided to go back and try to find the camera, I didn’t care if was in hundreds of pieces I just wanted the card inside. So back I went up to where I was sure I was far enough and turned around. As soon as I saw the Arch I started surveying the road for debris. Not seeing anything, I felt as though surely I had gone far enough and not seen any sign of a camera, I spotted something shiny on the left side of the road. We had been riding the left hand lane which had a shoulder of about five or six feet wide and then a row of concrete blockade dividers, on the other side of that was an old unused part of the highway I think they were widening. I pulled over quickly and parked in a rather dangerous spot and ran back to the item I had spotted only to find it was a square piece of chrome fallen off of someone’s car. Knowing we were already behind schedule, I decided to give up my search and go catch up to the guys. And so as we were trying to find our way back to the highway, south, which wasn’t very well marked, we ended up on the road going right beside the St. Louis Arch. As we sit there in front of it at the light, I felt like it was just more salt poured into my wound, but just had to laugh at myself.

Entering the interstate once more we crossed over the Mississippi River and into Kentucky. Immediately, we had to change highways to Interstate 64 and travel halfway across the width of Kentucky to our next destination,Louisville.