As I mentioned before, I didn't sleep well. Lots of bad dreams where I was in peril. Not necessarily nightmares (I rarely ever have those, thankfully) but just the kind of dreams where there's a lot of uncertainty and dread for my life. I woke up a lot, and when I'd fall back to sleep I'd have another bad dream.
I really think it was all the anxiety I'd been feeling and was still feeling that was catching up to me. Yesterday was a long day, with a lot of worry. We were worried about Jon's bike. I was worried about my son's golf. Weather had been threatening, and it took four hours longer to get to our hotel than we'd expected.
Today still had worry. I really, really wanted to be home in time for the concert tonight (note to self: never again plan something important for the night you're supposed to get back from a trip.) My tire tread was getting down to the "I'm really not sure I should be riding on this" level. Jon's tires weren't as bad as mine, but still not in great shape.
I'm sure the dreams were a reflection of the anxiety, but in a self-perpetuating cycle, the dreams themselves were disturbing enough that it added to my anxiety.
We had our alarm set for 7 AM, but Jon started stirring around 5:30. He woke up remembering something he'd forgotten to do at work, so he had to send some texts regarding that. By that time he was awake. I heard him stirring and wasn't sleeping well, so I went ahead and got up too.
It was interesting. I think we were both ready for this trip to be over and get home. On our previous trip's final mornings we had always wished we had a few more days to ride. While I don't recall that either one of us actually stated it out loud, I think this year we were glad this was the last day.
So as long as we were up we decided to go ahead pack up and hit the road. The hotel didn't have any breakfast available, so I ate the leftover pizza from the previous night. The bad pizza didn't improve by sitting uncovered in the mini fridge.
Around 6:30 AM we hauled our luggage out to the bikes and strapped everything on. Crossing time zones would mean we'd lose an hour so it was probably good we were heading out early anyway. We got in so late the previous night that we broke from our tradition of topping off our gas tanks. So our first stop wouldn't be too far down the road. Gas availability is limited in Keystone so we decided to ride the 20 miles into Rapid City and gas up there.
I spent some time closely examining my tire. It hadn't yet started to throw rubber and expose the cord. I was really hoping I could get home before it did. If it were to do this halfway across South Dakota I'm not sure what I would have done.
Once loaded, we hopped on the bikes to leave. Or that was the plan anyway. I reached in my pocket and discovered my motorcycle key was gone. Drat. Jon waited while I retraced my steps back to the room. I thought maybe it had fallen out when I pulled out my gloves. I searched the ground up to the hotel, then I went in and up the stairs looking for my missing key. Nearly all the way back to the hotel room I put my hand back in my vest pocket and this time discovered the key was there right where it should have been. Not sure why I didn't feel it the first time.
Sheepishly I went back to the bike and explained to Jon that I'd had the key the entire time. I put the key in the ignition and climbed on. Our bikes were parked on a pretty steep incline, so I pulled in the clutch and backed out of our parking space. Then I flipped on the ignition, pulled out the choke, hit the starter button and... nothing.
The bike didn't do so much as click when I hit the button, and all the lights went out. It acted like a dead battery. I audibly lamented that, "I think God is telling me I shouldn't try to ride home today." Between my bad dreams, my feeling of dread, my anxiety about my tires, the lost key and now a bike that wouldn't start, I was really questioning the wisdom of attempting to ride across the state.
Now that I was sitting in the middle of the parking lot I was hoping I wouldn't have to try and push the bike back into the steep parking space. I climbed back off the bike and popped my seat. I wiggled the battery cable and discovered the positive pole was loose. That happens sometimes on my Road Star. The bike vibrates so much (which it was designed to do) that screws and bolts sometimes loosen. I grabbed my screwdriver from my tool stash, tightened the cable, hit the starter switch and the bike roared to life.
They day can only go up from here, right? We rode back around to the office. I went in to check out and discovered even at 6:30 in the morning there was a long line of people at the front desk. Then I saw a big fishbowl full of room keys and a sign stating that people who are checking out can just throw their keys in the bowl. So I did and skipped standing in line.
We pulled out of the hotel parking lot and headed down highway 16 towards Rapid City. The morning was chilly but not freezing. More concerning than the temp was the threatening clouds that we could see in the east, the direction we were heading. They didn't look good. And it didn't help that I was still pretty spooked about rain from the monsoon we rode through on Tuesday.
There have been many years where I don't experience a single drop of rain on the entire trip. On the trip when I have bad tires I hit rain for six days in a row. Go figure.
Coming from the west into Rapid City on highway 16 there are two main ways to get through town. One is to stay on 16 and ride through the center of the city, the other is to take the 16 bypass and skirt around the south edge. I wasn't sure which would be better. Looking back at it now, it seems like a pretty inconsequential decision. But for some reason it seemed like a monumental choice when I was making it. Probably due to my overload of stress. Both routes would get us to the I-90 interstate, and both routes had gasoline available. I'm not sure why I was so indecisive about which way to go. Finally at the last second I turned and took the bypass.
We stopped at a gas station and topped off our tanks. I hadn't yet had coffee and thought about grabbing a cup, but decided to wait. The clouds didn't look good and I just wanted to keep pressing towards home and get this day over with. Not the proper attitude one should have while on vacation, but hey, I'm human. Sometimes things like this happen.
I made a quick final bathroom stop and we were back on the road. Once we were on I-90 the freeway was full of bikes heading home from the Sturgis rally, even though the rally was still officially going for two more days. The speed limit across South Dakota is now 80 mph, but I held closer to 72-73. My bike gets better mileage, it's easier to let others pass me rather than constantly trying to pass and most importantly I was getting completely paranoid that my tires were going to explode at any second, and the irrational side of me just knew if I went 7 mph faster that I was welcoming death.
The clouds looked more and more threatening as we got closer to Wall. A very light drizzle was coming down. Bikers were starting to pull over and put on their rain gear as it looked like things were going to get nasty. We had thought about donning our rain gear back in Rapid City when we filled up with gas, but opted to wait until we were sure we needed it. The drizzle grew heavier, and pretty soon it was raining. I pressed on for a few more miles until we reached the rest stop in Wasta when I finally conceded and pulled over.
Jon pulled up next to me and I explained that I decided we should finally admit defeat against the elements and put on our rain gear. I don't remember the exact way the conversation went, but after a short discussion and noting that we could now see blue sky in the east, we opted to just forego the rain gear and keep riding.
Sure enough, back on the interstate within 5 miles the rain stopped. By the time we reached Wall we were completely ahead of the storm and the road surface was dry. Jon pulled out in front to take the lead for a while, I think so he could use his cruise control. That didn't last for very long though. He knew that I was really in angst about my tires. He started to worry that if I was behind him something may happen to me and he not realize it right way. In less than five miles he motioned for me to take the lead again. While from my perspective I was perfectly fine following behind him, I appreciate the kind thought extended by one good friend to another.
We originally had thought maybe we could get as far as Chamberlain before stopping for gas, which was a hair over 200 miles. By doing this we'd only need a single gas stop to get across the state and get home sooner. This distance is usually well in range for my bike when riding on 65 mph and slower highways. Once I get above 70 mph though, the big jet in my carburetor opens up and my mileage decreases by quite a bit. However we had a favorable wind, and looking at my gas gauge I thought it would be close but I could make it.
As we approached Murdo, only 140 miles from our last fill-up, I started to have doubts. I knew pushing all the way to the Missouri river would be a stretch. I couldn't remember what gas was available between Murdo and Chamberlain should we come up short. I was already stressed about my tires. I knew for sure there was gas available in Murdo. In a sudden moment of clarity I thought, "Why would I cause more stress for myself to keep pushing all the way to Chamberlain. It might take a few minutes extra for another gas stop but I'd feel better." So I hit the exit ramp.
The gas station was busy with lots of bikers and vacationers. I pulled in to an open pump and Jon pulled into the one on the other side. I immediately started to apologize that I didn't push on to Chamberlain like we had planned, but he said that I made the right decision. He needed a break anyway, and when we had talked about Chamberlain he was thinking about his normal stop when driving a car across the state.
We gassed up, then moved our bikes off to the side to allow the people waiting for pumps to take our spots. I went in for a restroom break and bought a Cliff bar and a soda for a snack. Coincidentally, we were about 50 yards from the hotel we stayed at on the first night of our first trip together back in 2014.
When I came out, I gave my tires a thorough examination. The good news is that there was no noticeable wear that had occurred since we left Rapid City. This gave me a glimmer of hope. We only had to go about 250 more miles to get home. Certainly the odds were starting to swing in my favor that I'd have enough rubber to make it, especially if the weather held.
I actually started to feel a little better. Like the some of the weight was starting to lift. I knew that we just had to make it to our next gas stop in Mitchell and then I'd be home free. If we could make it to Mitchell I was pretty sure I could limp the bike the remaining 70 miles home slowly on back roads even if I had cord showing. And if I did flat in those last few miles, I was within easy rescue distance (assuming I wasn't lying face down in a ditch, of course.)
My mood gradually started to shift. Weeks later as I write about this trip and look back on my mood the last couple of days I can realize how much all the stress was affecting me. I probably seemed like a sourpuss to Jon without me even knowing.
In any event, now that I was starting to feel like I was going to get home alive the mental cloud was lifting. Jon had struck up a conversation with some other riders stopped for a break. We stood around and chatted for about 15 minutes. They were from North Carolina and had ridden out for the rally, and now were on their way home. They'd hoped to get to Madison, WI by that night, which was 800 miles from Sturgis. They had a long day ahead of them.
While chatting we watched a guy trying to pull a 5th wheel camper through the crowded gas station without destroying anything. Then we watched an older woman have equal difficulty maneuver her much smaller compact SUV through the same area. It was a bit concerning from a biker's perspective that we have to share the road with people so challenged with routine driving.
We bid our new friends farewell, then headed back out on the road. The next 150 miles to Mitchell wasn't scenic. But the weather was looking decent and my spirits were lifting. I was tired from the poor night's sleep and sore from thousands of miles of riding, but overall I was doing pretty well all things considered.
About twenty miles down the road our new friends passed us. They were keeping a faster pace. We waved at each other as they went by. A few minutes later they had disappeared ahead of us, and this would be the last I'd ever see of them. It was weird because they seemed like really cool guys that had we lived closer to each other I'd probably enjoy spending time with them.
The next couple hours passed without incident. An hour down the road we crossed the river at Chamberlain. After another hour we reached Mitchell for our last gas stop before home. Riding across South Dakota there's not a whole lot to describe. You just sit on the bike and twist the throttle.
When we pulled into the Mitchell gas station at 12:45 (Central Time), once again we found it very busy. Lots of Sturgis traffic, even though we were more than 300 miles away from the rally. I found an open pump and topped off my gas tank. The weather had warmed up quite a bit and the sun was peeking out. I still had my jacket on from earlier that morning so I removed it. Jon opted to leave his on.
Like we did in Murdo, after filling up we pulled ahead into a parking spot to allow others to use the gas pump. I asked Jon if he wanted to catch lunch in Mitchell or just press home. I owed him a lunch because he'd paid for the pizza the previous night. He opted to not spend the time and just keep pressing towards home. So I gave him $10 to cover my part of the pizza, which probably wasn't enough because that was an expensive pizza.
I was pretty hungry though so I needed to grab a quick bite. I went into the gas station and bought a turkey sandwich. I then came back outside and ate.
While I was eating we were talking with some other bikers also on a break. They too were riding towards Sioux Falls, but from there they were heading south on I-29. They were watching the weather on their phones as there was a big storm coming up from the south through the Sioux Falls area. It looked like we were on an intercept course.
From Mitchell we could see the threatening clouds in the distance. Once again we debated putting on our rain gear now, or gambling that maybe we'd luck out and not need it. If it was colder I probably would have leaned towards putting it on now. Because it was warm, I voted to go without. Who knows, maybe we'd actually get lucky and not need it?
We pulled out for the last leg of our journey. And coincidentally it looked like I was going to make it home in plenty of time for the Journey concert that evening. My tires at the gas stop were holding up. They only had to last for another hour. I felt like I was home free.
As we rode the skies grew darker and darker. There was no doubt a storm was coming. The only question was would we beat it to Sioux Falls or not? I snapped a few pictures of the weather. It's funny how pictures of clouds never look as menacing as they do in real life.
Ten miles outside of Sioux Falls we started to hit wet road surfaces. Five miles out we started feeling some drizzle. At this point though I had decided that unless the skies unleash and I see an ark floating by, I wasn't going to bother putting on my rain gear. I was close enough to home that even if I got soaked I could easily change into dry clothes when I arrived.
Thankfully we never got more than a light rain. The storm had come through about ten minutes ahead of us, and we just rode through the tail end of it which wasn't bad at all. Thank you turkey sandwich delay! We were now inside of Sioux Falls city limits and I knew I was home free. My tires were going to make it.
Finally we reached our exit and pulled off at what has become our regular farewell point on our trips. We said our goodbyes for the day and I took a final photo of Jon.
I rode towards home and stopped to fill up the bike with gas. I also bought a large coffee as I had yet to have any that day. Then I rode home.
When planning the trip I had estimated that I'd be home about 4 PM that afternoon. I actually pulled in at 2:30, which makes sense because we got up an hour and a half earlier than expected.
Being home a bit early turned out to be a good thing. This gave me plenty of time to unpack and relax. Around 5:30 PM I took the family out for a chicken dinner at Popeye's. At 6:30 we left the restaurant and headed for the Dave Mason/Doobie Brothers/Journey concert. Dave Mason was good. Journey was very good. The Doobie Brothers were excellent. They should have been the headliners. But regardless it was a great concert.
So this ends yet another motorcycle saga. My big takeaways from this trip:
Western Colorado is extremely beautiful. I'd been on the east side of the Rockies a few times. The west side is even better.
Never schedule a trip where you get back the same day you have something important planned. In this case, the concert which I really, really wanted to see. It added undue stress to the whole trip worrying about whether or not I'd make it back in time.
And finally, if my tires are on the edge of their useful life, it's not worth trying to eke out one more trip from them. I knew I was going to have to replace them after I returned anyway. Sure maybe I'd have discarded $100 worth of good rubber left on the old tires. Had I just gone ahead and replaced them before we left my stress level would have been greatly reduced. And that would have been worth the $100 I "saved."
Live and learn.
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This page last updated on 06/28/2018