I had set my alarm for 6:30. My usual wake-up time when I'm not on a motorcycle trip is around 6 AM. On this particular morning, I woke up on my own at 6:15.
I was still tired, but felt alert enough that maybe I should just get out of bed. I decided to lay there and relax until the alarm went off.
When the alarm did sound, I had managed to fall asleep hard. Now it felt like I had just woken from a coma. I should have listened to the voices telling me to get out of bed 15 minutes prior.
I really wanted to sleep in, but I needed to get home at a reasonable time. My band was playing at 7 PM, which meant I needed to be leaving the house with my gear around 4 PM. That meant I should be home by at least 3 PM in order to give me time to unpack my motorcycle gear, shower and re-pack my equipment for the gig. The schedule wouldn't afford any lollygagging on this day.
I got dressed and headed down to the hotel breakfast area. The selection was pretty limited: waffles, cereal and yogurt. I ate waffles and yogurt.
As I was eating, I noticed there was a door off the side of the breakfast area. The door was open slightly, so out of curiosity I peeked inside. It was a little maintenance closet, but what surprised me was the weird guy who came up to me in the parking lot when I arrived the previous night. He was sitting inside this closet fast asleep.
I didn't wake him. Both out of courtesy and also out of selfishness, as I didn't want to have another awkward conversation with him. I did wonder if the staff of the hotel knew he was in there?
Following my usual routine on this trip, after I finished breakfast I went outside to clean the motorcycle. I didn't get too anal about it on this morning, as it looked cloudy and was humid like it was going to rain. No sense making the bike perfectly shiny if it's going to rain, or at least that was the excuse I was making. I hit the highlights and removed the major bugs, then called it good.
I went back up to the room and finished packing. Normally I would put on sunscreen, but because of the clouds and the 72°F temperature combined with the humidity, I decided to throw on a sweatshirt. I knew once I hit the interstate that humid air would make the temps feel chillier than normal.
I checked out of the room and loaded up the motorcycle. When I pulled out of the parking lot it was a few minutes after 8 AM.
As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I saw an amusing bumper sticker on a car. So I stopped and snapped a quick photo:
The route today was as simple as it gets: a few blocks from the hotel, get on interstate 29 heading north and then ride a mostly straight line until I reached Sioux Falls. It's about a six hour trip with no stops. I was going to need to stop for gas a couple times and perhaps a stop for some lunch.
My shoulder still hurt. Thankfully not as bad as the previous day, but still bad enough. Only 350 more miles of suffering and then I would be home. Then I could recover for a few days and then make a decision about my riding future with a clearer mind.
Traffic on the interstate was pretty light, which was OK by me. There isn't a whole lot to see on this stretch of interstate. I've traveled it enough times that I know the boredom well.
When I reached the southern border into Iowa, I saw a Casey's sign. Now, I wasn't in the mood for pizza, but a short break and topping off on gas would be beneficial. Plus, I was really in need of a restroom.
I probably could have pushed it and made it home on two tanks of gas, but adding an extra gas stop makes things a little less stressful. I don't have to worry about how far I can push my mileage range on a tank, and I get a few minutes off the bike which is a welcome treat on this fifth day of riding.
So I pulled off the interstate and looked for the Casey's that was advertised. I didn't find it right off the interstate, so I rode into the town of Hamburg, IA.
Hamburg has an important spot in my personal history. It happens to be where I was having lunch when I heard about the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. In fact, I rode by the Pizza Hut where we were eating when I learned of the tragedy. Well, I rode by what used to be the Pizza Hut. It looked rather unused these days.
After riding around the Hamburg area for a few minutes, I never did find the Casey's. Hamburg isn't that big, so I couldn't imagine where it was hiding. I gave up and decided to travel further north on the interstate to the next gas stop. Later on I checked Google Maps and learned that while I drove up and down Main Street, the Casey's is actually two blocks further east from where I snapped my photo. It's over on Washington Street. I guess now I know for the future.
About five miles up the interstate was the Nebraska City exit. There were a few gas stations here to choose from.
After topping off the tank and using the restroom, I went back outside. I was starting to get warm. However, due to the humidity I decided to leave my sweatshirt on. I was pretty warm standing next to the gas pump, but out on the road I was about right.
I continued up the interstate towards Omaha, which was about 40 miles away.
I-29 was shut down in Omaha, and the detour signs were routing traffic via I-80. Taking this path added 15-20 miles to the trip. If those were scenic miles I wouldn't mind so much, but it was just extra miles of dull, boring interstate.
Thankfully, Brandon had sent me a top secret map I could use to go through Omaha, avoid the construction and not add a tremendous amount of distance to the trip. He had used this route a few weeks prior, and it was open at this point in time.
I decided to modify his route slightly. Last year when I was riding through Omaha I had an unusual craving for a Runza sandwich, but never wound up getting one. I can't say I was still "craving" one, but I wouldn't mind a lunch stop. I decided to cut through Council Bluffs and have a Runza.
I used the GPS to pull up the location of the Council Bluffs Runza, and added the waypoint to my trip. It took me right there on a route I never would have known existed.
As I was riding through Council Bluffs I hit some railroad tracks. And when I say "hit", that is the most accurate term I can use. This railroad track crossing was the absolute roughest I have ever experienced. It felt like I smacked a curb at speed. The bike bottomed out, and I cringed for several blocks after hearing the horrible noise of the impact.
Thankfully the motorcycle seemed to come through unscathed. I'm glad that railroad crossing isn't on a route I regularly travel. Weeks later as I'm writing this I'm still grimacing when I recollect that sound.
I found the Runza and stopped.
I ordered a traditional Runza sandwich. Because Brandon had said they were good, and because I'm a pig I also ordered a cheeseburger.
For those of you unfamiliar with Runza, it's a fast food chain local to the Omaha area. Their specialty is the Runza sandwich, which is a mixture of beef and cabbage wrapped in a puffed pastry. It's like a really fancy hot pocket, or a more eastern European version of a pastie.
I ate my Runza and kind of questioned why I was craving one the previous year. It wasn't bad, but it's rather bland. It could really be spruced up if it had some sort of sauce. The cheeseburger was better. The best part of the meal was the fries. I also drank several glasses of iced tea.
I texted my wife to let her know I was alive and so that she could have an ETA. I then decided it was now warm enough to ditch my sweatshirt, so I slathered myself in sunscreen.
Back out on the motorcycle I tried Brandon's construction avoidance route. It was successful. I found myself back on I-29 heading north. As a bonus, because most vehicles had been routed the long way over on I-80, for many miles the road was nearly empty.
The next hour and a half were about as uneventful as you can get. Between Omaha and Sioux City, IA there are hardly any hills, trees or even overpasses. Just miles of dull. I sat there and watched the odometer slowly click away the tenths of miles.
While it probably wasn't the safest thing to do, this stretch was dull enough that I snapped a couple of pictures while I rode. I decided that playing with my camera was safer than falling asleep.
On the south side of Sioux City, IA I stopped to top off the gas tank. At this point I was about an hour and a half from home, and while my body was wanting a break from riding, my mind wanted more to finish this trip. I didn't even take off my helmet or remove my earplugs, just filled the tank and hit the road again. The stop clocked in at about four minutes, which I think is the fastest gas stop I've ever logged.
From Sioux City, IA to Sioux Falls, SD (two cities with similar names but very dissimilar everything else) the interstate speed limit increases to 80 mph. I don't like to ride that fast, just because my motorcycle drinks so much more gas at those speeds. I held the bike around 70-75 mph for this stretch.
I made it to Sioux Falls, and stopped at a gas station near my house for the final mileage tally and to top off the tank. I pulled in at 2:43 PM.
I took this opportunity to give the motorcycle a final, thorough cleaning. I was going to return from this trip with the cleanest bike that just rode 2,200 miles.
From the gas station, it was only a mile further to my house. I pulled in and, as predicted, had just enough time to unpack, shower and then load my equipment to head to the gig.
See the summary of the trip...
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This page last updated on 11/03/2022