The first day of this year’s trip was going to be the longest, both in miles ridden and total time in the saddle. Because of this, I had set my alarm for 5 AM, with the hopes I could be on the road and rolling by 6 AM.
In previous years, this wouldn’t have been too much different than my normal wake time. However, I haven’t been getting up early to exercise as much this year. These days my alarm typically goes off around 6:00 or 6:15. I’m still faithfully riding my bicycle back and forth to work every single day, but in previous years I would usually go for a walk or run before I hopped on the bicycle. I guess lately I’ve just been lazy.
In any event, when the alarm went off at 5 AM I was still pretty tired. The previous day being the 4th of July meant we were out late watching fireworks. Consequently it was after midnight before I actually crawled in bed. I was really hoping that the excitement of the trip would be enough stimulation to keep me going all day on less than five hours sleep.
I usually enjoy (well, I usually want to enjoy) a big breakfast. I’ve noticed this doesn’t hold true on mornings after I haven’t gotten much sleep. I wasn’t really all that hungry. However, I knew if I didn’t eat something I would be feeling ravenous after an hour or two. So, I forced myself to eat a bowl of cereal just so I had a little fuel in my stomach.
I finished packing all the items that I couldn’t pack the night before because they were needed this morning (toothbrush, pill container, laptop, etc.) With my luggage packed, I carried it out to the bike and attached it. I remembered how everything connected faster than I did last year.
I rolled the bike out of the garage, started it up and made my final preparations. I selected the first segment of my route on the GPS, and I was ready to go. Glancing at the clock I saw that it was straight-up 6 AM. I actually was rolling at the intended time. In my day-to-day life I usually try to run a few minutes early, but for whatever reason on my motorcycle trips I tend to run late. I felt nice to actually hit my departure time goal this year.
On this particular morning when I left it was already 77 degrees. We were in the middle of a stretch of hot weather. Later on this day in Sioux Falls it was supposed to be in the upper 90s. However, where I was heading it was supposed to be pushing 100°F.
Today’s destination for the night was to make it down to Joplin, MO. This more or less is a straight shot south from Sioux Falls. On the way down, however, I had a few stops planned. First, I wanted to stop at a motorcycle dealer in Omaha, NE that had a motorcycle I had seen online but wanted to look at in person. The second stop was in Olathe, KS (suburb of Kansas City) that also had a motorcycle I wanted to see in person. The third stop was to eat lunch at Stroud’s in Olathe, KS. And the last stop was to visit the Rainbow Bridge in Baxter Springs, KS which would start my journey east on old Route 66. Hopefully these planned stops would break up the day a little, and bring some interest to an otherwise unremarkable trip.
From Sioux Falls to Olathe I would be taking the interstate. Then the remainder of the way from Olathe to Joplin, MO my route had me on the highway. So I started the morning by getting on I-29 heading south from Sioux Falls.
Much to my chagrin, about 20 miles south of Sioux Falls was when I first noticed my left shoulder hurting. While I wasn’t expecting to be able to go the entire trip pain-free, I really didn’t consider the possibility of encountering the pain so early in the trip. This really had me concerned. At the moment my only options were to turn around and go home, or to press on and hope it didn’t get too bad. I picked the "press on" option.
Another issue that I started to notice rather early on is a bit embarrassing to admit. My butt wasn’t as comfortable sitting on the motorcycle seat as it had been in years past, even with the beaded seat cover I use. I could make any number of excuses or even feign ignorance as to the reason, but in the spirit of honesty I have to fess up that I’m pretty sure it was due to my weight.
In early 2015 I had lost a significant amount of weight. My weight loss slowed but continued through October 2016 culminating with my brother’s wedding. Knowing there would be a ton of photos of me, I worked hard to get myself in great shape. Overall during this time period I had lost close to 70 pounds.
I mostly kept it off for a couple of years, then things began to slip. Various life circumstances have made my day-to-day existence very stressful these last four years, and I have developed an unhealthy (both in the mental and the physical sense) habit of dealing with stress by eating.
In the TV cartoon "King Of The Hill" there was an episode where Bill Dauterive made a statement, "At least when I’m full, I feel something." Within the context of the TV show this was intended to be funny, however when I heard this line it hit me like someone had just dropped a pile of bricks on me.
That hit the nail on the head for my situation. When life overwhelms us with stress, we often become numb. However, numbness is not an emotion we are designed to experience long term. We as humans need to feel something. When our normal sources of stimulation become too painful to deal with, we seek out alternative methods. Some people resort to casual sex. Some people resort to chemicals. Some resort to cutting themselves. I happen to resort to eating.
I’m not telling the internet this information in an effort to garner sympathy, merely as context to help put the rest of my story in perspective. I will admit that sharing some of these details is cathartic. I will spare you, dear reader, most of the details and save those for my therapist (and yes, I’m not ashamed to admit that I have been seeing a therapist.)
So long story short, in the last few years I had regained 60 pounds of the weight I had worked so hard to lose, and as a result my butt was hurting more than it has during previous trips. Also, I noticed that my vest was tight enough that the snaps would pop open after a few minutes of road vibration. Eventually I admitted defeat and re-installed my vest extenders that I had retired six years ago.
In addition to my weight gain, the constant stress has caused me to struggle with some other health issues such as high blood pressure, random spots on my head where my hair has fallen out, and chronic diarrhea. I only mention that last item because it comes into play later on in the journey.
Enough with my personal issues. Back to the story.
About an hour and a half down the road, just south of Sioux City, IA, I decided a quick rest break would do me some good. I pulled into a rest stop and took a quick bathroom break and stretch session.
Once stopped I noticed the temp was getting warm quickly. Although it was only around 7:30 AM, the temp had already climbed to 80°F.
Back on the road, I noticed some threatening clouds to the southwest. Using the cool weather overlay functionality on my fancy new GPS, I popped up the radar. Just for clarification, when I say "cool" I am referring to my opinion of this functionality (i.e. "nifty") and not the actual temperature range associated with weather. From the radar I could tell that it looked like the storm was moving northeast, and I was going to skirt around the edge. That was good news.
Interstate 29 between Sioux City, IA and Omaha, NE is a rather unremarkable 90 mile stretch of road. For all practical purposes, it is straight and without hills. There isn't much scenery, and there are very few towns or even overpasses. Unfortunately, my trip itinerary had me riding this section twice: once on the first day of the trip, and once on the last. Bleah.
As I drew close to Missouri Valley, IA, my low fuel light came on. Usually this means I have about 40 miles until I hit my reserve tank, at which point I have about another 40 miles until I'm completely dry. My initial plans were to wait and get gas in Omaha.
However, I started thinking about this. (And why not? What else is there to think about on this stretch of road?) If I stopped to gas up a little early in Missouri Valley, it wouldn't change the total number of gas stops I would need on this day. And stopping for gas in Omaha wouldn't save me any time versus stopping for gas now. However, stopping for gas now would space the three gas stops more even throughout the day.
I opted to change my plans and make a fuel stop a few miles early in Missouri Valley. I pulled in, topped off the tank, and completely forgot to snap a photo. Oops. Not that a gas station in Missouri Valley is all that photogenic, however an occasional picture does break up the wall of text that I tend to write.
A couple weeks before I left on this trip I had given my motorcycle an extremely thorough cleaning. One of the decisions I made before this year's trip was to try and keep the bike as clean as I reasonably could, as riding a clean bike is a lot more fun than riding one completely plastered with dead bug guts, water spots and mud splatters. Don't ask me why it's more fun, but it is.
I had packed cleaning supplies in my saddlebags. I decided that on this trip I would allow a few extra minutes at each gas stop to "touch up" the bike. I also decided that before I hit the road each day I would give my bike a more thorough cleaning. So I stayed true to my commitment and spent about 10 minutes cleaning the grime from the bike, which at this point was mostly confined to dead bugs stuck to the front half of the motorcycle. In addition to a clean motorcycle, it also forced me to get off the bike for a little extra time to let my body rebound.
With the bike clean and full of gas, I got back on the interstate. As previously mentioned, there was a motorcycle for sale at Dillon Brothers Motorsports in Omaha. I had seen pictures of it online, but wanted to look at it in person. Seeing as I was passing through Omaha anyway, it made sense to stop now rather than make a dedicated trip some other day. The only downside was the dealer is located in the far northwest corner of the city. This little detour would add about 20 extra miles in each direction. However, if by chance this turned into my next dream bike, I decided it was worth the additional 40 miles.
It was on this little detour that I ran into my first issue with the GPS. Or at least I thought it was the GPS that was the problem. But more on that in a minute.
I rode through the north side of Omaha, and the GPS eventually led me off on a street on the west side. The exit it had me take seemed slightly different from what I remember when I looked at the map a few days before I left on the trip, but memories can be faulty. The GPS should know better than me, right?
Here's where I was intending to go:
As I rode along, something didn't seem right. But like a good sheep I continued to follow the GPS's directions until it told me "You have arrived at your destination."
Hmmm… I couldn't see a motorcycle dealer anywhere in the area. Maybe it's a small shop hidden on the backside of a building or something? I rode circles around the neighborhood for a few minutes, looking for a sign or anything that might look like Dillon Brothers Motorsports.
I was confused, and decided I needed to seek a second opinion from my phone. Plus, I was in need of a bathroom break, and perhaps a few minutes of air conditioning. There was a convenience store in the area, so I parked and went inside.
First I used the bathroom so I could think a little more clearly. Then I consulted Google maps on my phone. As it turns out, my GPS guided me to a place about five miles away from the address that I had entered when I first designed my route.
I was somewhat irked. What's the point of a GPS if you enter an address and it takes you to a completely wrong location?
Here's the map of where the GPS took me. The pink dead end spot is where I wound up. The actual place I wanted to go was closer to where the green dot is shown in Elkhorn.
For the rest of the trip I blamed the GPS for this foul up. It wasn't until about a week later when I was back home that I discovered where the true blame lay. I initially created all of my routes for the trip on my computer while I sat in air conditioned comfort in an easy chair. From there I followed a process to export those routes and import them into my GPS. I went back and opened the route I had created in Google Maps only to be completely surprised by what I found once I looked closer:
Here's the evidence that exonerated Garmin. I entered the correct address for the dealership into Google Maps. For some crazy reason, the Google Map software placed the waypoint at the wrong location on the map. The Garmin GPS correctly took me to the coordinates indicated by the waypoint as it was instructed to do. It turned out to be 100% Google's fault.
Even crazier was that after the fact when I went back and reopened my Google Map link it was still calculating incorrectly. I suppose I was lucky that it did, otherwise I would have never figured out which company was ultimately at fault.
Back in the convenience store in Omaha, I was not yet aware I was blaming the wrong entity. All I knew was that I felt miffed I had wasted a bunch of time riding to the wrong place. I briefly considered forgetting about the motorcycle dealership and just resuming my trip, but then I decided I would have ridden the extra miles for no reason. So I decided to accept the lost time and find the dealership.
I entered the dealership's address directly into the GPS. Much to my relief, following these new directions it took me directly to the correct location.
I had seen online that the dealership opened at 9 AM. My original itinerary had me arriving at the dealer right at 9 AM. When I pulled up in front of the building it was now 9:50 AM. About 15 minutes of that time discrepancy was due to the extra rest stop I made, and the 10 minutes I spent cleaning the bike. However, the remaining 35 minutes could be attributed to wandering around aimlessly due to the Google Maps bug.
After parking, I walked up to the dealership door and pulled, only to discover it was locked. That was unexpected. Upon looking at the hours printed on the door, it said that they don't open until 10 AM. The internet was wrong again.
Had I known that the dealer didn't open until 10 I probably would have skipped the visit altogether. As long as I was here, however, I decided to go ahead and wait the extra 10 minutes. I used the time as an excuse to apply another layer of sunscreen.
At precisely 10 AM someone came out and opened the door. I went in and started to look for the motorcycle I had seen online. A salesman came up to me and asked if I needed help. I told him the bike I was wanting to look at, and he directed me up to a second floor. Once I went up the stairs I immediately saw the bike in person:
This was a 2018 Indian Roadmaster. It had some of the accessories I desired, but would need some additional accessories to be added by me. It had about 12,000 miles, which was in the range I was seeking (less than 15,000 miles was my ideal.) The color wasn't my favorite, but wasn't completely objectionable. Unfortunately, once I saw it in person I could see a few spots here and there that made me think it hadn't been cared for as much as I hoped. Nothing super glaring, just enough little things that I wasn't getting a good vibe off the bike.
Another strike against it was the price was a bit on the high side of what I wanted to pay. However, at this time it had sat in their inventory for at least three months, so I thought they might be ready to deal a bit to get it to move.
As much as I wasn't getting a good vibe from the bike, I was getting even less of a vibe from the salesman. He gave me a brief spiel about Indian Roadmasters in general, but didn't give me any information about this specific bike (service history, local trade, etc.) There was no offer to start it up so I could hear it run, let alone any offer of me taking it on a test ride. There wasn't even any "get to know you" small talk that most salespeople employ. It almost seemed like he didn't want to sell me a bike.
I mentioned that I thought the price was a little steep and that I knew it had been in their inventory for a while. Rather than explaining the reason for the price, or hinting that there could be some negotiation, he said nothing. He just stared at me. Not getting any response from him, I quickly ran out things to say.
After about 15 minutes of mostly awkward silence while I looked at the bike, I decided that it would have to be a pretty special deal on a pretty special machine to make me want to purchase a motorcycle from this guy. And frankly, my gut wasn't telling me that this was a special machine. So I thanked him for his time and went on my way.
I went back outside, got on my bike and was preparing to hit the road. A guy who had just parked his bike walked over to me. My internal "weirdo radar" started to go off and I wondered what he wanted. As it turns out, he complimented me on how my pipes sounded and wanted to know what kind they were. After a brief conversation he wished me well and went about his business. So that actually turned out to be a positive interaction.
I hit the road, now nearly an hour behind schedule. Because of the salesman, the stop at Dillon Brothers Motorsports was a little quicker than I had originally estimated, but the Google Maps issue had really sucked up some time. Plus, upon recollection I don't think I properly accounted for how far out of the way the motorcycle dealership was as compared to the direct route through Omaha, even without the unintended detour.
I took I-680 down to I-80, headed east and then got back on I-29 heading south. As I rode it seemed like it took way longer than it should have before I was heading south again. It turns out it was 25 miles. I really underestimated that distance, probably because when you look at a map it's only a couple of inches.
I was getting pretty sore and tired, which was concerning so early into my trip. Also, my bowl of cereal had worn off and I would have really liked some food. Because of how behind schedule I was running I decided to suck it up and push through the discomfort.
About the time I crossed into Missouri, for about an hour I was getting pelted with lots and lots of grasshoppers and June bugs. These things were making a mess of my nice clean bike, and even worse, the ones that didn't hit the bike were smacking me in the arms and face. When you get hit by a June bug on the interstate it will wake you up really quick. I had welts from some of the impacts. I was really hoping that this wasn't going to continue for all five days.
My fuel light was on when I got to St. Joseph, and I decided I had pushed long enough; it was time for a rest stop. I was hoping to find a decent sized convenience store where in addition to filling my tank I could get some real food. Unfortunately, at the exit I took there was only one option for gas and it wasn't a very big station. Rather than getting back on the interstate and searching for another place I decided I could make due with what they had.
I gassed up the bike, then went inside and used the restroom. Upon looking at the options for food, I saw they had a rotisserie with a couple slices of pizza spinning on it. This wasn't the kind of station that had a kitchen where they made fresh pizza, and those slices looked like they had been under the heat lamp for a long, long time. I decided not to risk it.
In a fridge there was a ham and cheese sandwich. I decided that would do. There was no price on it when I pulled it out, but how expensive could a simple ham and cheese sandwich be? As it turns out, $6. I was too hungry to argue, though, so I paid the money and left.
As I started to eat the sandwich I realized it was still partially frozen. I didn't have a whole lot of options so I gnawed on the frozen sandwich the best I could.
The bike was looking like a disaster zone from all the insects. I took about 15 minutes cleaning the majority of the bug guts off the bike. I didn't try to make it pristine, as I knew I would probably be hitting more bugs in the very near future. But at least I could get the top layer of them off and make it so I could see through the windshield again..
The frozen sandwich wasn't great, but it at least was a little bit of food to settle my stomach down. My next planned stop was RideNow Olathe which had another Indian Roadmaster I had been looking at online. It would take about an hour and fifteen minutes of riding to get there.
That hour and fifteen minutes easily felt like twice that amount of time. A portion of that feeling was due to heavy traffic, a portion was due to the 99°F heat, and the remainder was the general soreness and weariness I was feeling. Given that this season I had ridden many more miles on my motorcycle prior to leaving on the trip than I had in years past, I thought my body would have been better prepared. I guess I was mistaken.
I pulled into the dealership in Olathe, KS. I was somewhat familiar with this area, as back in 2017 my son had attended the Mark Wood Rock Orchestra Camp and Music Festival which is held about a half mile from where this dealership is located. My wife and I made a couple of trips to the area to drop our son off, and then to pick him up.
On this trip to Olathe, it was hot. Really, really hot.
I walked through the doors of the dealership and started looking for the bike I had seen online. A salesman greeted me, and unlike the one at Dillon Brothers, was actually friendly and helpful. He even saw the state I was in and offered to get me a cold bottle of water, which I eagerly accepted.
Unfortunately, the motorcycle I was wanting to look at in person had been sold. However, they did just get in a 2019 Roadmaster Icon, so as long as I was here I decided to go ahead and give it a look.
The only difference between the Icon series bikes and the regular models is the addition of custom paint. This particular bike was done in a two-tone matte. I'm generally not a big fan of matte finished motorcycles, but I have to say that I didn't mind it as much with this color scheme. I definitely wouldn't have turned the bike down for color reasons alone.
The salesman started up the bike so I could hear it run and had me sit on it. Overall it was in good condition, particularly compared to the motorcycle I had looked at earlier in the day.
I talked with the salesman for a while longer. He stated that all their bikes go through the service department before being sold just to make sure everything is working and to have all the fluids changed. This bike, having just been obtained, had not yet gone through the shop. And at the moment the shop was running about a month behind their inventory. So if I was interested I could put $500 down on the bike to hold it, then they would call me when the bike was ready and I could come back and finish the purchase.
I was somewhat interested in this motorcycle. Ultimately there were three things of concern. First, the price was a bit higher than my budget (the bike I originally came here to see was within my budget.) Second, the mileage was a bit higher than I was wanting (28k miles.) And third, I noticed it was a bike originally sold in California, which meant it had all the weird emissions and other things required by vehicles made to be sold in California.
Ultimately, I told the salesman I would think about it. He said if I decided (and the bike was still available) that I could call and we would work out a way for me to get them the money to hold it. I thanked him for his time and headed back outside to the furnace.
It was now nearly 3 PM, but the sun was still beating down hard. I decided "better safe than sorry" and took a few minutes to put on more sunscreen. It was interesting as the heat was making me smear sweat on my body as much as sunscreen.
Back on the road, I was really hungry. The next stop on my itinerary was Stroud's restaurant. I had eaten there last October and had the best spicy fried chicken I'd ever tasted. Since that time, I've been dreaming of that chicken, which is why I put a stop at Stroud's on my list.
Originally I had optimistically calculated to be at Stroud's around 1 PM, thinking that 1:30 PM would be a more realistic time. Now that it was 3 PM, I wasn't sure I wanted to stop for a long lunch this late in the afternoon. They cook their chicken fresh to order, so It would probably take at least an hour to eat and I wouldn't get to the hotel until around 7:30. Also, a heavy meal this late in the afternoon would most definitely spoil my supper, and there was a barbeque place in Joplin that I had been eyeing.
I reluctantly decided to skip eating at Stroud's. That's a bummer. Weeks later as I'm writing this I'm dreaming of their spicy fried chicken and wishing I had stopped. For what it's worth, as I rode by I did pull over and take a picture:
From Olathe I got on highway 69 heading south. I had ridden/driven from Kansas City to Joplin many times, but had always done it via I-49 on the Missouri side of the border. On this trip I decided to go down the Kansas side of the border. The two roads are only about 15 miles apart so I wasn't expecting any significant difference in scenery, but it was nice to ride a new road.
One interesting thing I noted on this trip was with the addition of the GPS, it would show me the exact speed I was moving. I could then compare this to the speedometer on my Yamaha. I learned that at highway speeds the Yamaha's speedo runs about 4 mph fast. That is, when the Yamaha told me I was going 65 mph, the GPS said I was only going 61. I believe the GPS is probably more accurate.
I also noticed that I quickly started to use my GPS to check my speed instead of the speedo on the bike. I think that's because where the GPS was mounted was higher than the bike speedo mounted on the tank. As I would move my eyes downward they would reach the GPS first. Frankly, I've never thought the Road Star's instrument cluster was in a very ergonomic spot. I'm sure they put it there more for aesthetics than for rider convenience. This is one of the few complaints I've had about this bike, so I guess in the grand scheme of things it's pretty minor.
Not having anything to eat since that frozen ham and cheese sandwich, my stomach was really complaining. I was going to need one more gas stop before Joplin, so I decided to try and find somewhere where I could grab both gas and a snack. And preferably a snack more appetizing than a frozen ham and cheese on white bread.
Roughly an hour down the road I came across Louisburg, KS where I saw a sign for a Casey's convenience store. They usually have slices of pizza ready to go. A slice of pizza would do an exemplary job of filling the void in my stomach, so I opted to pull over.
First I filled the gas tank, then I scrubbed some bugs off the bike. To my surprise, there weren't as many as I expected. Apparently I had finished riding through Junebug-a-palooza when I cleaned the bike during my previous gas stop. There were a few bugs to cleanse here and there, but it didn't look like I'd painted the bike with bug guts like before.
I went inside and used the bathroom, and then went to peruse the pizza. There was a slice of veggie pizza spinning in the rotisserie, and that looked pretty good. I bought it along with an iced tea.
I now hit the road for the last stretch of the "get to where the ride starts" part of the trip. Given where I live in South Dakota, there's not much interesting riding nearby. Most of my trips have a certain number of miles I have to log in a very utilitarian fashion before I get to the place where it really feels like the ride begins. On this trip I was considering the Rainbow Bridge the starting point. All the riding up to that point was straight-line and high speed, just trying to put the miles behind me.
Louisburg to the Rainbow Bridge were about 100 miles apart. My body was screaming, my body's thermostat was pegged and my brain was wanting the day to be over, but I powered through this last stretch.
As I rode down the highway I suddenly saw a possum laying in the middle of the road. I don't know if my mental state wasn't as sharp as it should have been, or if I just didn't see it in time, but either way I rode straight over the top of the thing. If it wasn't dead before I hit it, it most certainly was after I hit it.
One of the cool features of the Garmin GPS was that when paired with my phone it will display and/or read me text messages. It does not allow me to respond to text messages, which I was perfectly fine with. I can pull over and respond if necessary. However, it's nice to be able to quickly see a text so I can determine whether it's something that can wait, or something that requires me to stop and respond.
Along this stretch I started getting text messages. First, was an emergency alert text message stating that a tornado warning had been issued for Sioux Falls. Well, there's not much I could do about that situation being 600 miles away, other than pray that the tornado doesn't touch down, nobody gets injured and that nobody has any property damage.
Shortly after that message, I started to get text messages from our electric company notifying me that my home address was within an area that was experiencing a power outage. And shortly after that my wife started texting me that we indeed had lost power.
I continued to ride. The electric company would occasionally send an update about when they estimated service would be restored, so I would pull over and forward that message to my wife. She was on the verge of going out to buy ice and start filling coolers with the contents of our fridge when the power came back on. She even had gone so far as to pull the quick release and manually open the garage door, as the electric garage door wasn't functioning during the blackout.
With everything settled down back at home, I was able to focus on my ride again. Frankly, although the circumstances weren't ideal, thinking about the situation back home was a nice diversion as I put the last 100 miles of highway behind me.
So here it was: the iconic Historic Route 66. The highway of legend that has been immortalized in both song and prose.
Joplin lay to the east. However, before I turned to head that way I would first take a three mile detour to the west to see the historic Rainbow Bridge.
I'm not sure why it got named the "Rainbow Bridge". These days that term has taken on new meaning as the metaphorical transition our pets make when they die. Unlike that one, when I crossed this bridge it did not take me to a higher plane of existence. Nor did I see a bright light or any dead furry friends.
The bridge itself is quite narrow. I'm not sure exactly when it was retired as the main bridge over Brush Creek on this highway.
When the new bridge was constructed, the original plans were for this bridge to be demolished to make room for the new crossing. A local historical preservation group successfully lobbied to leave the existing bridge in place and have the highway rerouted about fifty yards to the east and the new bridge built there.
The new bridge, while more functional, does not have the aesthetic charm of the old bridge.
As you can see, I walked around and took a lot of pictures. Although I only had about a half an hour of riding left in the day, it felt good to get off the bike and take a break for a few minutes.
Back on the bike, I rode over and crossed the river using the current route. I stopped and took one final photo of the Rainbow Bridge as seen from the new bridge.
Now I was on the home stretch. I only had about 25 miles to go to get to the hotel. The fastest way to get there would be to drop south and take interstate 49. However, at this point I wasn't interested in the fast route. I wanted to begin my ride on Historic Route 66.
As I rode east through the towns of Riverton and Galena, I immediately noticed that there were many businesses taking advantage of being located on historic Route 66. The marketing made it obvious that I was following the correct route.
During this stretch there were a couple instances where the GPS demonstrated an odd quirk that would happen occasionally throughout this trip. Every once in a while the directions would tell me to take a turn, make a short, odd and unnecessary detour, and then return to the same street or road on which I was already riding. Sometimes this odd detour would be on a back street, and sometimes it would be through an alley or a parking lot.
In these cases the strange detour would be obvious enough from the GPS screen that I would ignore it and just stay on the current road. I took a screenshot of where the GPS had two of these little jogs in a very short distance span. In both cases I didn't follow the GPS route and used common sense instead.
I entered Missouri about two miles from the west edge of Joplin. Run down city
Back in 2001, eleven years prior to my arrival on this day, an EF5 tornado came through Joplin killing 158 people and injuring more than a thousand more. The massive tornado touched down and stayed on the ground for many miles. About 25% of the city was destroyed, with complete destruction of more than 7,000 homes and 2,000 businesses. It was one of the most devastating tornadoes in US history.
Having never previously been in the city of Joplin itself, I only had my imagination as to what I would see. In my mind, knowing that such a large portion of the city was destroyed, I was expecting a lot of new buildings and houses replacing the old structures that had been ruined. I also assumed that there wouldn't be many old growth trees left standing.
Instead, following old Route 66 what I found was a lot of old, run down buildings. I saw no new construction, nor did I see any evidence of buildings that had been destroyed and not rebuilt. And there were plenty of trees still standing. Obviously, my preconceived notions about what I would find were wrong.
Later on after I returned home I investigated and learned that the tornado passed through the south end of the city. I rode through squarely in the middle, so I was to the north of the devastation and subsequent area of rebuilding.
I rode through town, which I can most succinctly describe as "very blue collar." I'll just say the areas of Joplin I went through on this trip were far from upscale. I'm not sure how representative this was of Joplin as a whole.
At long last I arrived at the hotel. Or at least the hotel sign. I turned into the parking lot, got confused with all the buildings in the area and managed to ride past the main entrance. After a few hundred yards I figured out that I must have missed something, so I turned around and found the lobby area.
Entering the lobby, I found things to be rather busy. There were two lines a couple people deep between two different desk clerks. I waited my turn, and then a nice older woman checked me in. She gave me my key and explained how to get to my room. It wasn't as simple as walking down the hall.
This hotel was impressively large, and consisted of several buildings joined by smaller hallway structures. It looked like they kept adding additions to the hotel. My room was in the building farthest away from the lobby building, so I got back on the bike and rode there rather than just walking.
I've stayed in sketchier looking hotels, but this one was definitely on the lower end. It looked like a large percentage of their clients were of the transient worker type. There were a lot of construction company vehicles in the lot, and people walking around wearing hi-visibility shirts. I speculate they would come into town during the week to work, then return home on the weekends.
In any event, I didn't get a real great vibe from the area. I was hesitant to leave anything on the motorcycle that wasn't secured, or worth so little that I didn't care if it got taken. Although it would be a lot easier to make two trips to carry all my luggage and gear inside, I opted to try to do it in one single trip. I didn't want to risk coming out for my second trip and discovering someone had helped themselves to my stuff.
Carrying all of my gear at once was a challenge. I probably looked similar to Dagwood Bumstead from the Blondie cartoon when he was carrying all of the ingredients from the fridge to make a sandwich. For those of you too young to remember this cartoon, let me give you a visual:
Speaking of ingredients, when I walked into the door of the hotel there was a guy carrying a bunch of food. He nodded as he walked by, then went out a back door where there was a little courtyard area. Just outside the door, a group of guests had set up a barbeque grill and were cooking their supper.
My room was up on the second floor. I lugged all of my gear up the stairs, and found my room. Plopping my stuff on the hallway floor, I opened the door to my room and immediately noticed a fog. That was weird. It was thick enough that it was difficult to see the curtains on the other end of the room. I pulled out my camera and tried to get a picture, but I've noticed that fog rarely shows up in photos as intense as it is in real life. The picture looks more blurry than foggy.
It wasn't just fog I was greeted with; there also was a very strong chemical smell in the room. I stood there with the door open for a minute, debating what to do. The weary part of me was wondering if I could just tough out the fog and smell for a night. It wasn't long before the practical side of me realized this was a bad idea. I was going to have to go back to the lobby and see if I could get a different room. So, I lugged all of my gear back to the bike and then strapped it all back into place so I could ride around to the building with the lobby.
Back at the front desk I waited in line again, and got the same clerk. I explained how I opened the door to the room and saw the fog and smelled the chemicals, and asked if I could get a different room. The lady looked at me for a minute, and then got saucer-eyed. She said, "Oh no! I forgot that we're fumigating that room and I wasn't supposed to rent it out until 7 PM!"
I glanced at the wall clock and noticed that it was now 6:45 PM. There was no way that room would be inhabitable by 7 PM unless she was talking about 7 PM next Tuesday.
She gave me a different room, which turned out to be three doors down from the first one, but across the hall. So I got back on the bike and rode to the building, then carried all my gear inside and up the stairs again.
This second room was much more acceptable. Considering what I paid for the night, it really wasn't bad at all. The best part was that the A/C was blowing cold and strong. And whatever unwanted creature they were fumigating out of the first room didn't appear to hold residence in this room.
I unpacked, and did some self-maintenance stuff, and spent a few minutes relaxing in the cool air to bring my body temperature back into check. I also drank a bunch of ice water, which was nice because most of the day I had been drinking from my water bottle that had been sitting in the sun and had gotten quite warm.
I estimate on this trip I was drinking around three to four gallons of liquid a day. However, when I would use the bathroom barely anything would come out. I'm sure I was losing most of it via my sweat glands.
Bodily functions aside, now it was time to think about supper. By now it was 7:30. I looked online at the BBQ restaurant where I had originally planned on eating and noticed that they closed at 8 PM. Hmmmm. I don't think I would have time to ride there, order and eat before the restaurant closed. Bummer.
Had I known this would have happened, I would have gone ahead and had that late lunch at Stroud's. I probably wouldn't have even needed supper and could just stay in the room for the evening. Double bummer.
I checked out a couple other restaurant options in the area, but frankly by this point I was running out of motivation to go too far or do anything too fancy. Plus, being out in the heat all day really sapped my appetite, even though I hadn't eaten a whole lot this day. I was a little hungry, but not starving.
I remembered that while I was waiting in line to check-in, I noticed that there was a Chick-Fil-A across the street, and they had a sign out front that said, "Try our new Peach Shake." A peach shake really sounded good. It wasn't exotic, but it was just across the street so I decided to grab some supper there.
Given the size of the hotel buildings, Chick-Fil-A was just a little bit farther than I wanted to walk. Plus, I wanted to fill the bike up with gas this evening so I wouldn't have to worry about it in the morning. So I hopped back on the motorcycle and rode over there.
Now some of you are probably thinking I'm a horrible bigot for even thinking about eating at Chick-Fil-A, and others are applauding my decision like it's some sort of religious statement of freedom. Both fringes can believe what they want to believe. I hold no interest in Chick-Fil-A outside of what food it provides. Frankly, at this point Charles Manson himself could have had an ice cream stand across the street selling peach shakes, and I would have given him my business. I was just tired and hungry and wanted a peach shake.
As far as the food at Chick-Fil-A itself, I can take it or leave it. I've eaten there probably a half dozen times in my life. The sandwiches are OK, but nothing to write home about (Popeye's chicken sandwich is much better.) The waffle fries are good. I know some people who act like Chick-Fil-A's food is some sort of magic elixir. I don't understand the fascination.
One thing I will give honest props to Chick-Fil-A is their service. I've always received top-notch service every time I've gone to one. The restaurants are impeccably clean, and they have no shortage of people working there. Now that I think about it, a chicken restaurant that is well-staffed, has great service and is extremely clean…I wonder if Gustavo Fring secretly runs the Chick-Fil-A company?
I ordered a spicy sandwich, waffle fries and a peach shake, along with a big cup of water. As I sat waiting for my food I noticed my face and arms were hurting. Upon inspection, I could see that despite putting on sunscreen three times I was sunburned, somewhat badly in places. Particularly on the inside of my arms, my neck and my nose.
As I sat I thought about it. One of the things I had done was try the approach of putting on a thin layer of sunscreen more frequently. I decided this wasn't a successful method. For the remainder of the trip I was quite liberal with how much sunscreen I applied. I also made sure to get all sides of my arms regardless of whether or not I thought they would see sun or not.
My food arrived and I ate. It was what I expected: the sandwich was OK, and the waffle fries were good. The peach shake was good, but not to the level to which I had built up my anticipation in my mind. I did notice that it had real peach chunks in it, but those tended to clog the straw. They also were frozen so they really didn't have as much flavor as unthawed peach chunks would have had.
After I ate I went out to where the bike was parked. As I was putting on my helmet a cop walked over to me. My initial thought was, "Uh oh… what did I do?" It turned out that he rode too, and just wanted to talk about motorcycles for a couple of minutes.
Across the street next to the hotel was a gas station. I made a quick stop and topped off the tank, then rode around to the hotel building where my room was located. There was a parking spot directly outside my room, so I selected that one. I have talked about this before on my site that we bikers like to park where our motorcycles are visible to us, even though it's kind of pointless. We're not going to sit and stare out the window all night, and if someone did mess with my bike by the time I got dressed and made it downstairs and out the door they would have had enough time to do anything they wanted.
In the spot next to where I parked were two guys sitting on the back of a flatbed trailer drinking beer. I questioned whether or not it was a good idea to park my motorcycle next to them, but decided they were no more likely to do something nefarious than anyone else in the area.
I took a shower and got cleaned up. It felt really nice to be out of my sweaty clothes. I called home and talked to my wife for a while. She gave me the replay of the day's events back home, with the storm, tornadoes and power outage. Other than our yard being covered in little sticks from our trees, we had no damage. Not everyone in the city was that lucky, however.
While severe storms aren't unusual in our area, the storm that came through was particularly nasty. One of the unusual things that happened is that when it rolled in it turned the sky green. This is an unretouched photo of the storm over the Sioux Falls Courthouse Museum:
In addition to producing several tornadoes, this storm also produced a derecho. A derecho is basically sustained hurricane force winds that blow in a straight line. It can do as much damage as a tornado, over a wider area. This was the second derecho to hit Sioux Falls this year, as we also had one back in May which did a lot of damage as well.
Of course, the internet did its part to bring some levity to the situation. The photo of the courthouse museum went viral and Photoshop enhanced versions started popping up:
After I hung up the phone it was pretty much time for bed. I had brought a couple books along with me. Normally on my trips I'll do a lot of reading. On this trip, however, I wound up not even opening my book. I think the extended miles I was riding on this trip left little extra free time. By the point of the day I was in my hotel room each night I just didn't have a lot of time to sit and relax. I barely even watched any TV.
Before I went to bed I glanced out the window. The two guys were still sitting on the back of the truck drinking beer. It was now 11 PM.
I turned out the light, crawled in bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
Around 3 AM I got up to use the restroom. Out of curiosity, I looked out the window again and noticed that now there was still one guy sitting on the back of the truck drinking beer. It really made me wonder what time he needed to be at work in the morning.
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This page last updated on 11/03/2022