I had set my alarm for 7 AM. I wanted to be on the road by 8 AM, so I could have some time to look around in Hannibal, MO and still make it to my hotel at a reasonable hour.
I think I woke up a few minutes before seven. Actually, I woke up throughout the night, but a few minutes before seven I decided it was futile to continue to lay there in the heat on the uncomfortable bed.
Having showered and shaved the previous night, my bathroom needs were minimal this morning. However as I was attending to them a guy opened the door and started to walk in. I said, "Occupied!" and he quickly closed the door before he saw the full price show. Seriously, if you're going to have shared bathrooms there needs to be a lock on the door.
The forecast for the day was supposed to be hot and sunny. I took a few minutes to liberally apply sunscreen. I really wanted to try to avoid getting sunburn on this trip, as riding in the heat is rough enough without adding the dull throb of a sunburn on top of it.
I packed up my luggage and got ready to leave. As I opened the door to take my first load out to the bike, Baby the cat was waiting for me. I tried to snap a picture of her, but discovered she kind of matches the carpet so it's not a real good photo.
As I stepped outside onto the stairway, I was dismayed to discover that the temperature was exactly the same outside as it was inside, only with more humidity. I was hoping for a cool morning to allow me to recover a bit from the sweltering night.
I precariously carried my gear down the rickety stairs and started to load the bike. The tires had sunk a little bit in the soft soil where it was parked. Thankfully the tile I had put under the kickstand did its job, otherwise I would have come outside to find the motorcycle laying on its side.
After I made a couple of trips and got the bike completely ready to go, I left my key in the door as I had found it when I arrived. I then decided to take a few more photos of the facility just for posterity.
Here's the stairway that led up to where my room was located. The photo doesn't do justice as to the disrepair they were in. And yes, those are roofing shingles nailed to the stairs, presumably in an effort to provide a non-slip coating.
This is the swimming pool and hot tub area. The carpeted parking lot was a nice touch that most places don't have. (That was sarcasm in case you missed it.)
Here's the patch of mud where my bike was parked.
As I pulled out I took one last picture of the front of the house as seen from the street.
Once I was rolling it was now 8:05 AM, which wasn't too far off from my goal. That's actually pretty good for me on a motorcycle trip. Most of the time I wind up hitting the road much later than my intended departure. Had I not stopped to take some additional photos I would have been right on time. I decided it was worth the five extra minutes to get pictures.
I rode down the street less than a mile, and then headed east on University Ave. This was a four lane street that turned into highway 163 after about eight blocks.
I continued to ride through the east side of the city. Being shortly after 8 AM, there was still some rush hour traffic but overall it wasn't too bad. I rode by the Iowa State Fairgrounds, which had not yet started up so things were pretty quiet there.
As I got further and further from the center of town the highway traffic got lighter. There were stoplights about every mile, and I think every one of them was red when I got to the intersection, so there was a lot of stopping and sitting.
I thought about breakfast. I was slightly hungry, but not ravenous. I decided a slice of Casey's breakfast pizza sounded delicious, and seeing as Casey's is headquartered in Des Moines, they're pretty easy to find in this area.
For those of you outside of the region, Casey's is a convenience store that specializes in pizza. They always have single slices for sale almost every hour of the day. You can even order entire pizzas for takeout if that's your inclination. For a while they were marketing themselves as a "pizza place that sells gas", although I haven't heard those specific commercials in a while.
I've spoken (well, technically I've written) before about how great Casey's breakfast pizza is. It's probably a good thing that they stop making their breakfast pizzas around 10 AM and switch over to traditional pizzas at that time. If they didn't, I would be tempted to swing in to Casey's and grab a slice of breakfast pizza even more often than I already am.
I saw a Casey's so I pulled in and parked. I then snapped a photo to log the stop. It wasn't until I got back from the trip that I realized I had also unknowingly captured a girl in the photo. She's looking at me like I'm some sort of creepy guy taking her picture. I suppose I was some sort of creepy guy taking her picture, but I swear I didn't know I was being a creepy guy taking her picture!
As I mentioned, I wasn't extremely hungry. One slice of pizza would have been plenty. I'm a pig. I bought two. I also grabbed an iced tea.
They didn't have any tables or benches to sit at, so I walked around to the west end of the building and sat on the curb to eat.
I really should have gotten one slice. By the time I had the 2nd slice 3/4ths of the way eaten this became apparent. In fact, in a rare moment of self control (like the meal the previous evening) I decided to stop before I had finished the 2nd slice. I could hear my mom's voice in the back of my head saying, "Don't waste food!" as I threw the unfinished piece of pizza in the trash, but it was the right decision.
Back on the motorcycle I continued east on highway 163. There were still a lot of stoplights, which continued much further out of town than I would have guessed.
At some point I made it far enough from the suburbs of Des Moines that the stoplights were no longer slowing me down. Traffic was light, and this was a four lane highway so I started making good progress.
I passed through Pella, IA. Pella is known for two main things: being the headquarters of Pella Windows, and for being where Wyatt Erp spent his boyhood. The highway didn't stop in the town, so I didn't either.
In Oskaloosa, IA, highway 163 merged with 63 and headed south.
A few miles further down the road at Eddyville, I got off the 4 lane highway. My route had me going on back roads for most of the rest of the morning. I took county road 137 and headed west. West was the wrong direction from this night's destination, but it was part of the route.
I only had to go in the wrong direction for less than a mile until I came to county road T59/T61, where I would head south. My directions told me that T59 would turn into T61, but I actually saw a T61 sign first and never did see a T59 sign. Oh well, both signs lead to the same place, I guess.
Being a two lane road in the middle of nowhere, there was actually more traffic than I expected. Not that it was super-busy, but there were more cars than I thought there would be.
Also not expected was the area was a lot prettier than I had expected. Lots of rolling hills, some gentle curves and more patches of trees than I'm used to seeing in Iowa. Scenic area, especially for IA.
When I pulled into Blakesburg, IA, I stopped for an extremely short stretch break. I didn't even get off the bike, I just stood up for a minute and moved around a bit. As I was doing this, a car with "Driver's Education" went by. When I took driver's ed nearly 40 years ago it was in the city. I can imagine that taking the class in a small village like Blakesburg is a completely different experience.
While I stretched I snapped a photo of a park across the street.
I was about to get back on the road when I suddenly noticed a cannon almost directly in front of me. Not sure how I managed to not see it until just this moment. I'm no cannon expert, but given the wooden wheels I'm thinking this is from WWI?
On the south side of Blakesburg, T61 took a one block jog to the west then headed south again.
During this trip I tried to make an effort to take a photo every time I changed highways or made a turn. I figured this would give me lots of pictures. In some previous trips I would go long stretches without any photos, and frankly a wall of text without interruption can be a bit off-putting to the modern generations. So not every picture is of anything particularly noteworthy, but hopefully it helps you, the reader, get a better feel for the journey.
There was a slight jog in Unionville, IA. When I pulled over to snap a photo I noticed this building across the street. It appeared to be an old garage with a lean-to added on the side. I'm not sure what the building is used for, but it's now decorated with flowers and Volkswagens. By the way, the VW nerd in me immediately recognized that this was not originally a Volkswagen convertible, but was a hardtop that had the roof cut off.
Here's a closeup of what was written on the side of the building: "When you forgive, you set a prisoner free and realize that the prisoner was you." Sage advice.
The route took a southeast turn on highway 2, but just for a mile.
I then headed south on highway 202 towards Moulton, IA.
Roughly 10 miles down on highway 202 I reached the Missouri border. The shoulder of the road had a lot of loose gravel and after last year's loose gravel incident where I dumped my bike I was extra careful while pulling over. I took a moment to get off the bike and stretch for a minute, and took a photo.
I also took a second photo to text to my wife and let her know I was still alive. She appreciates these.
To take pictures on my trips I've been using an old Sony MHS-CM5 digital camera that at this point in time is about eleven years old. My cell phone actually takes better quality photos, but I still use this camera for a bunch of reasons (in no particular order): first, by the time I resize the photos for my website the extra resolution of a better camera becomes a mute point. Second, this camera is a little smaller and fits nicely in my vest pocket. Third, the shape leads itself to more secure handling as I feel I'm less likely to drop this camera than my phone. Fourth, it uses actual buttons instead of a touch screen which means I can quickly take a picture without having to remove any gloves that I'm wearing. Fifth, it has a convenient wrist strap which I occasionally use if I'm going to be taking a bunch of photos in a short period of time, as I can just let the camera dangle from my wrist as I ride rather than having to put it away each time. And finally sixth, it's good to have a backup camera on trips in case something happens (like it did on day 3 on my trip to the four corners when my camera battery died.) In this case, the old Sony is my primary camera and my cell phone is my backup.
The old Sony is just a camera, without any ability to send photos. For anything I want to send to my wife I use my cell phone. So anyway, here's the photo I sent to my wife. Not super exciting nor very different from the previous photo, but it let her know my whereabouts.
As I rode into northern Missouri, it didn't look markedly different from southern Iowa. Not that I was expecting it to. And I've yet to see that big dotted line that Google says is at the border of every state.
Just outside of Glenwood, MO, highway 202 joined with county road AA and headed east.
Highway 202 ended at the intersection of highway 136. I turned south on 136 towards Macon, MO which was 57 miles down the road.
Highway 136 was busier than what I had ridden on for the previous couple hours. As I rode, the heat of the day was becoming apparent. It was warm when I left Des Moines, but at this point it could only be described as hot. Sweltering, actually. The air temperature was in the upper 90s, but the humidity index was also in the upper 90s. The heat was starting to wear on me. I was going to need gas in Macon and I thought it would also be good to try and find a cool place to relax for a few minutes.
I arrived at Macon, and stopped at a filling station called "Haymakers" that looked like it had some food options. I really wasn't super hungry, which was probably due to a combination of the breakfast pizza and the overbearing heat. But eating something would be a good excuse for me to get off the bike for a little bit.
I had come 184 miles since I left that morning. I hadn't yet hit the reserve tank, so that confirmed what I already knew to be true: my bike is probably running a bit lean.
After topping off the tank I rode the bike the 50 feet to a parking spot, and went inside. The air conditioning hit me like I had jumped into a pool of ice water, and it felt wonderful.
I browsed around at the food options. As I already mentioned, I was still kind of full. However, I didn't want to not eat anything and then find myself in the middle of nowhere without food. There was a make-to-order grill, and I was tempted to get some fried chicken. That sounded a little heavier than what I needed so I wound up selecting a small weird wrap meat and cheese thing and a sports water. The wrap had been sliced into four "pinwheels" and when put together probably only made up half of the pre-sliced wrap. But it was enough to hold me for a while.
There were some tables available, so I sat at a table and ate my snack. I checked my various phone messages, whether they were textual, email or voice. But mostly I just sat there and reveled in the glorious cool air.
As my break was coming to an end I took a few minutes to re-apply sunscreen. As I lathered myself up I got some odd looks from some other people sitting and eating, but I'm used to odd looks.
As I walked out the door, the temperature difference hit me just as abruptly as when I entered, only this time it was the opposite: it felt like I had just jumped into a smelting pot. It almost made me not want to get back on the motorcycle. Almost.
The next stretch of highway was to ride 60 miles east on highway 36 to Hannibal, MO. I had a planned stop in Hannibal.
Highway 36 was a four lane limited access highway. Not quite an interstate, but as close as you can get. Normally I prefer to avoid roads like this if possible, but today I didn't mind so much due to the heat. It got me to Hannibal faster.
The speeds on this stretch of highway were fast enough that in about an hour I found myself pulling into Hannibal.
Hannibal's claim to fame is that Mark Twain spent his childhood here, and because of this many of his most popular books such as Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer take place in a fictionalized version of the town. There is a Mark Twain museum here that looked like it would be a good destination to visit on my trip.
The museum is located in the historic downtown area on the east side, next to the Mississippi river. I found the general area, and then pulled into a parking lot and got off the bike. Originally I had planned for up to a two hour stop so I could really enjoy the sights.
For as hot as it was while I was riding, when I stopped it got even hotter. While riding there's quite a bit of air movement which does a nice job of keeping your body temperature in check. However on this day the wind was perfectly still, so off the bike there was no breeze to bring any relief. My weather app said the temp was 99 degrees, and the humidity was 97%, and I had no reason to dispute these numbers. There were few clouds and the sun was beating down. Add to this the fact, I was wearing jeans, boots and leather. It was brutal hot.
I wasn't sure where the museum was located, so I started walking hoping to get my bearings and orient myself to where things were situated. I found myself about a block from the river, so I decided to walk over and snap a photo. I had to cross some railroad tracks inside a fenced in area to get a better picture. The gates were open on the fence, and it didn't look like anywhere that was supposed to be off-limits. However, after I snapped the photo the railroad bell started to ring. My first thought was a train was coming, but looking as far as I could in either direction showed no signs of a train. When I crossed the tracks and left the area the ringing stopped. Weird.
Looking around for the museum, I came across a public restroom. I thought it would be a good idea to use the facilities as long as I was right here. However, my efforts were largely unsuccessful. I had a feeling I was dehydrated from the heat. It would be a good idea to find some water before I left town.
I located the museum. However, I also saw an arrow pointing to the "Mark Twain Memorial Lighthouse." That sounded interesting so I figured I should go see the lighthouse first, and then I could cool off inside the museum. So that being my plan I started walking to where the sign was pointing.
I passed an old house that had a plaque on the front, so I snapped a picture. The house really doesn't have much connection to Mark Twain himself, other than it was newly built about the time that Mark Twain was in the area.
About a block away from the museum there were steps that led to the lighthouse. When I reached the base of the stairway I suddenly realized there were a lot more stairs than I could see from the museum parking lot. The previous few months at work I'd been getting up from my desk once per hour and walking down, then back up three flights of steps just to get some exercise. I decided that I was used to walking steps, so this stairway, while large, shouldn't be that big of a deal.
I proceeded up the steps. They were fairly steep. About halfway up I could tell that wearing boots, jeans and a leather vest was making the task extra difficult in the heat. I persisted at a constant pace and soon found myself at the top of the stairs.
Or so I thought. There was no lighthouse in sight.
What I did see was a road, across which was another steep set of steps at least as long as that which I had just traversed. Ugh. Well, I'm in pretty good shape so I decided that I could do it again.
When I reached the top of those steps I was in the same predicament: no lighthouse, a road I had to cross, and another set of steps. "You've got to be kidding me!" I thought to myself. By now I was committed to the endeavor, so I walked across the street and proceeded up the next group of steps. I really hoped I wasn't going to continue repeating this scenario too many more times.
At the top of those I could finally see the lighthouse. However, I wasn't quite there yet. There was a small parking lot, across which was another (albeit smaller) set of steps up to the lighthouse.
As it turns out, I could have ridden up to the lighthouse. The roads I kept crossing were the switchbacks on the steep street that would have allowed me to bring my motorcycle up and avoid the steep steps that went directly up the side of the cliff.
After climbing the last set of steps, I finally arrived at the lighthouse. I was drenched in sweat and sucking air like a vaccuum cleaner, but I made it.
What were my impressions after making the trip up the stairs? The lighthouse wasn't as big and grand as I expected.
It wasn't even a real working lighthouse, just a smaller commemorative model of one. It was maybe 30 feet tall? I took a photo of it to send to my wife.
There was a sign telling the history of the lighthouse. It was originally built in 1955 in honor of Mark Twain's posthumous 100th birthday. The current lighthouse is the second one erected at this site. The sign said it was 54 feet tall, but there was no way that was accurate unless you're also counting the height of the hill it sits on in relation to the parking area.
After reading all the text on the sign, at the very end, it said that there were 244 stair steps from the statue at the bottom up to the lighthouse. Really? Now you're telling me this tidbit of information? That sign should be at the bottom of the hill!
I was miserable hot, however I still needed a few minutes for my heart rate to come down from the ionosphere, so I walked around for a few more minutes. I climbed the steps, darnit, I'm going to take pictures!
I tried the door just out of curiosity. As I suspected, it was locked. I took a picture of the river from the base of the lighthouse.
After staying at the lighthouse for about five minutes, I had recovered enough to attempt the trip back down the stairs. Going down was easier than coming up, but by this point I was physically spent. The lack of any breeze was taking its toll in the 99° heat, and the high humidity meant that the sweat wasn't evaporating, it was just rolling off of me. Every bit of clothing I was wearing was soaking wet. Even my leather vest was getting damp with sweat.
At the bottom of the stairs I paused to try and regain my facilities. As I stood there I noticed a statue of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.
At this point in time I was completely wiped out. My underwear felt soggy from perspiration. I was undoubtedly dehydrated, very likely suffering from heat exhaustion, and the thought of heat stroke was looming heavy on my mind. Heat stroke is bad, and I needed to take prompt action to avoid this scenario.
I no longer had any interest in going into the museum, which is kind of sad because that was the whole reason I planned my stop in Hannibal. My number one concern right now was to find water, air conditioning and a chair. Much of the museum grounds was outside, so I opted to skip the museum and find somewhere I could take shelter from the heat for a few minutes.
As I was looking for a suitable rest spot I happened to pass some of the houses in the museum area. As long as I was right there I went ahead and took pictures.
This is the house where Huckleberry Finn lived.house. More accurately, it's where Tom Blankenship lived, the person on whom Mark Twain based the Huck Finn character.
Here is the fence that inspired the whitewashing story in the Tom Sawyer book.
Here is Becky Thatcher's house, or Laura Hawkins as she was known in real life.
This is the law office where Mark Twain's father worked.
I also passed Grant's Drug Store where Mark Twain's family lived for a while during hard times. All of these buildings had signs describing them, so that was nice that even though I didn't go into the museum I still could see some historical monuments.
Across the street from the parking lot where I had parked my motorcycle I found a gift shop that advertised ice cream. I figured if they had ice cream, they also likely had water, air conditioning and somewhere to sit and eat it. I went inside.
It was air conditioned, and as soon as I walked through the door I felt the cool relief of the refrigerated air hitting my skin. Of course, once that happens you start sweating even more profusely as your body tries to take advantage of all the cooling that the evaporation process produces. A typical person has somewhere between 2 million and 5 million sweat glands. I'm not sure on my body's exact number, but I am quite certain that every one of them was currently active.
Sweat was literally pouring down my face and arms. My clothes were drenched. My hair was wet. I was still breathing hard from the heat induced stress. On top of that I was at the point where my brain wasn't firing on all cylinders, so I probably had a confused look on my face as I stared at the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter.
"Can I help you?" a woman behind the counter asked as she eyed me suspiciously. I'm sure I was an interesting sight.
As I panted I told her I wanted some ice cream and some water, but I needed a minute to figure out what kind of ice cream I wanted. My overheated brain wasn't letting me make a quick decision.
She kept looking at me like I was a complete oddity, and finally I had the energy to explain that I had just walked up and down the stairs to see the lighthouse. Her face changed from one of suspicion to one of amazement. "Really?" she said, "Nobody ever walks up to the lighthouse in the summer!" No kidding?
I ordered an ice cream cone and a large cup of ice water. She charged me for the cup of ice water, which I thought was a bit odd. I wasn't going to argue a dollar at this point.
There were chairs, and I found one that happened to be sitting directly over the air conditioning duct. I ate my ice cream and chugged my water. While I was sitting I took off my leather vest. It felt wonderful.
As I sat recovering, the woman behind the counter told me a story about the Eiffel Tower. She said there is an elevator that you have to pay for, and stairs that are free. Many people opt for the stairs, which they discover is a difficult climb. These stairs then end at a platform where to go any further you have to pay to use an elevator, and the fee is the same as if you took the elevator from the bottom.
I probably sat there for about 20 minutes cooling off. I texted my wife and checked my emails and messages. After I had been in Hannibal for about an hour, I decided I didn't want to stay any longer. It was now roughly 2:15 PM, and I had about 100 miles to go to get to my hotel. I figured I could probably get there about 4:30. I just wanted to get to my hotel where I could fully relax and get out of these wet clothes. This was the motivation I needed to go back outside and climb onto the bike.
The day hadn't cooled off any during my brief rest break. However, once I was moving on the motorcycle the flowing air was enough to keep my body temperature in check.
From Hannibal, I rode south on highway 79. This road follows the west bank of the Mississippi river. There were a lot of curves and hills.
This turned out to be a very scenic and fun road. The only downside was the curves had a lot of rocks and freshly cut grass strewn across them. Hitting fresh cut grass on pavement is a lot like riding over ice. It was too easy to come around a corner and be surprised by the debris, so I kept my speed in check. I'd rather arrive at my hotel slightly later in the day than to not arrive at all.
As I was riding I saw a sign for a scenic overlook. Although I was in a hurry, I reasoned that scenery was the main reason I go on these motorcycle trips. So I opted to pull over and snap a picture of the Mississippi river valley.
When I pulled up at the scenic overlook there were four guys standing outside an old pickup truck. I gave them a friendly nod, and they did so in return. As I was leaving, all four of them wedged into the single cab of the pickup. They were not small guys either, so it was a really tight fit in that truck.
I got an odd vibe from them. I'm not even sure what caused it, just something in my brain's radar that found them a bit unsettling.
The road was getting even more curvy, and there were lots of trees. This really was a cool stretch of highway.
I came across another scenic overlook, so I pulled in. This one took me further back into the woods, about 1/8 mile until the trees opened up and I could take a photo. As I did, the truck full of guys pulled in to the overlook area behind me. They proceeded to get out of the truck as I rode away.
A few miles further down the highway I saw a sign for another overlook. This one was even further back in the woods on a path that was somewhere between pavement and gravel. There was a beautiful canopy of trees covering the path.
Once I got to the overlook, I discovered it was mostly overgrown so there was very little to see.
As I was taking the picture, once again the truck full of guys pulled in. The whole situation just felt weird. Maybe my brain was still foggy from the heat exhaustion, but something didn't seem right about them. For one thing, wedged into the little cab of this truck they didn't look comfortable enough to be on a casual journey just to check out the scenic overlooks.
Whether they had ill intentions or not, I decided not to stick around to find out. This little rest area was remote enough that I can't imagine too many people travel down the path, so as a result it's not somewhere I want to be if the guys happened to be looking for trouble. I decided to hit the road, and try and put some space between me and them.
I got back on the highway and rode as fast as I dared to go with the rocks and grass. Really, with a good pavement sweeping this would have been an awesome motorcycle road. And thankfully I never saw the guys in the truck again. Maybe I was just paranoid, but like I always say, "A paranoid is better than just one noid."
32 miles south of Hannibal I reached the town of Louisiana, MO. My directions said I had about 53 miles to go until I would reach the outskirts of St. Louis.
South of Hannibal the road straightened out some, the trees thinned a bit and everything got a little less interesting. I focused on keeping my speed up and making good time.
When my odometer clicked over to tell me I had come 53 miles since Louisiana, it didn't look like I was anywhere near St. Louis. Traffic was busier on the highway, but it was still pretty rural. I decided to pull over and and check the map on my phone. As it turned out, my mileage was somehow off by about seven miles, but at least I was on the right track.
Meanwhile, as I had been riding it looked like a storm was brewing up ahead. The closer I got to St. Louis the more it looked like the storm would arrive at the same time I would. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with a storm (not that I ever am, I guess.) I was already very wet from sweat, so I decided if I hit rain I wasn't going to bother putting on my rain gear unless it was a complete monsoon. My biggest worry was I didn't want to mess with riding in St. Louis traffic in the rain.
As already mentioned, I prefer to avoid interstates whenever possible. However, to get to my hotel in St. Louis there really wasn't a practical route that didn't involve using interstates. So when I finally reached I-70 I merged onto it heading east.
I only had to ride on I-70 for twelve miles. I rode precariously, with one eye on the heavy traffic and the other eye on the approaching storm. The storm really didn't look good.
Rain just started to sprinkle as I reached the I-270 interchange. I only had four miles to go at this point, so maybe it would hold off? I then noticed that the roads were very wet. I was getting sprayed from the cars around me, but very little was falling from the sky.
At this point I realized that I was following the storm, and had just caught up to the tail end of it. I had been hurrying trying to beat the storm, when in fact had I slowed down I probably wouldn't have gotten any rain on me at all.
I found my exit where my hotel was located, and pulled off the freeway. There was still lots of standing water from the storm.
My hotel was only a few blocks away from where I got off the freeway. Tonight I was staying at the La Quinta.
I went inside and checked in. The hotel clerk looked at me and asked if I had gotten caught in the storm, and I briefly explained how I had just come into town on the tail end of it. He said it was severe enough that I was lucky to miss it.
After receiving my room key I rode around to the side door and brought my luggage in. I must say, compared to where I had stayed in Des Moines, the La Quinta felt like a palace. My room was spacious. The king bed was comfortable. The TV worked. I couldn't hear people in the other rooms. But most bestest of all, the air conditioning was ice cold.
I turned the air on full blast, stripped off all my clothes and just basked naked in the magnificent cool air. Sorry for the disturbing visual this may have caused, but I'm being honest. I sat for at least a half an hour doing nothing but letting my body temperature regulate.
I was in desperate need of a shower and some clean, dry clothes. Afterwards I felt very tired, but at least human again.
I rested for a while longer and then decided to find some supper. I was in that weird state where I was hungry, but due to the physical stress I had gone through I didn't really feel like eating. As a result nothing sounded overly tasty.
I looked on the map to see what food options were available in the area. One of the places that caught my eye was called "The Trainwreck". Still, I was unsure so I wandered down to the lobby and asked the clerk where his favorite place to eat was. He told me the name of somewhere that wasn't very close, but then listed a few options that were more accessible without having to ride across town. He mentioned a place that he hadn't eaten at before but many people recommended. It turned out the name of that place was "The Trainwreck." That made it a pretty easy decision and I decided to go there.
I grabbed the minimal items I would need to ride to get supper. As I walked out of the hotel the sheer intensity of the humidity became immediately apparent as my sunglasses fogged over to the point of being useless.
It was now almost 7 PM. The storm had come through about 4 PM. Three hours later the roads were still wet as the air was so damp and still that there was nowhere for the moisture to go.
The Trainwreck was only a couple miles away, if that far. I parked and tried to take a picture of the restaurant but my camera fogged up from the humidity.
I walked in only to find the place nearly empty. I could only see one other table in use that had a large group sitting together. The host asked me where I wanted to sit. I noticed that there were TVs all over the place, and it just so happened that the Twins were playing the White Sox on ESPN, and the game was just starting. I asked for any table where I could see the game. He looked a little put out, like I had just asked him to mow my lawn. He gave me a table where I could barely see a TV about 40 feet in front of me. I found if I turned sideways and looked behind me there was another TV showing the game that was only 15 feet away.
Usually on my motorcycle trips I bring books and do a lot of reading. I hadn't yet started my book on this trip, but I brought it along to the restaurant so I pulled it out and started to read between pitches while waiting for my food. I also drank about three glasses of water.
On this evening I ordered a more traditional burger as compared to the previous night. It was pretty good overall. The fries weren't as good as Zombie Burger's fries, but good enough for me to eat all of them.
The Twins pitching staff made it obvious early on in the game that this wasn't going to be their night, so I wound up reading more than watching the game. After I finished my meal I paid and left. As I went out the door I tried to grab another photo of the Trainwreck, but once again my camera fogged over so I just wound up with a cloudy mess of a picture.
I rode back to the hotel. There was a gas station next door, so I pulled in and filled up my tank. I was wanting more hydration, and craving something sweet so I looked around in the convenience store for something wet. I hadn't had a soda in almost two years, and was trying to keep the streak going so that wasn't an option. Iced tea had caffeine, and I didn't want to risk it so close to bedtime. I settled on a couple bottles of "Vitamin Water" which I had never tried before. I also grabbed a big cookie that looked good.
Back in my hotel room I turned on the Twins game, ate my cookie and drank the water. The cookie turned out to be not very good, which surprised me. I mean, you almost have to try to make a bad cookie. Also, after I drank the water I read the label and realized that it had caffeine in it as well. Whoops.
The Twins really tanked that night, so I mostly read my book. I also called my wife and we compared our day's events. Once the baseball game ended I finished a chapter in my book and then crawled into bed. It felt wonderful. I must have been exhausted, as I slept very well despite the caffeine.
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This page last updated on 11/05/2021