I had been watching the weather forecast all week. The outlook for my first day of riding didn't look good, as it was supposed to rain the entire day. This being my 18th year of taking annual motorcycle trips, I have accepted the fact that occasionally I'm going to have to depart in the rain. I came really close back in 2010, but up to this point in time I'd yet to actually have to put my rain gear on at home.
A half inch of rain did fall during the night. In June of 2023 our area of the country was in severe drought, so it was hard to complain about any rain that fell. I woke up a couple of times during the night and could hear it coming down.
I woke up for good at 6:45. My original goal was to be on the road by 8 AM. I checked the weather and it looked like the rains had just finished up, and miraculously there would soon be blue sky. I decided that if I didn't leave at 8 AM sharp, that wouldn't be the end of the world. It would give the rain a chance to move away from the direction I was riding.
I leisurely finished packing all the things that I needed in the morning and couldn't pack the previous night. I ate some cereal for breakfast. Then I finished loading the bike and backed it out of the garage.
The Tundra Girl couldn't sleep, which at the time of this writing is something she's been struggling with. Seeing as she was awake anyway, she decided to get out of bed and see me off.
About 8:30 I rolled out of the driveway. It was worth it to wait a few minutes as now the sun was coming out. I had to ride on wet pavement for a while, but it didn't rain the rest of the morning. The temp was in the low 70s, and there wasn't any wind of which to speak. Contrary to what I had anticipated, it was a beautiful morning.
Out on the road, I noticed a few things about the new motorcycle. First, it was really, really nice to have cruise control. No more sore hand from constantly having to squeeze the throttle. And no more slowing down going uphill and speeding up going downhill.
Second, it was really nice having tunes to listen to as I rode. Even though I was wearing earplugs and a full-face helmet, I could hear enough of the music to give my brain something to break the monotony. I had about 80,000 MP3 files on my phone, which was connected via Bluetooth to the motorcycle. I put the entire collection of songs on random play and enjoyed the variety.
And third, the stock Indian seat is miserable. Within an hour of riding I was getting very sore, even while using my beaded seat cover. Not even fifty miles in, I already knew seat comfort was going to become an issue on this trip. The seat looks like it should be comfortable, but apparently there is something about the shape or padding material (or both) that creates pressure points and makes my butt and legs ache after a relatively short amount of time. I finished the rest of the trip utilizing the "suck it up" method of butt pain mitigation.
Another change I made with this trip was the camera I was using. As I had done for the past 15 years or so, I had brought my trusty Sony "Bloggie" digital camera along with me. Seriously, that's what the camera is called. Don't blame me.
Previously I would keep the camera in my front right vest pocket, which made it extremely convenient to grab for a photo. This year was the first trip where I wasn't wearing a vest. I put the camera in the front right pocket of my mesh jacket, but given that the pocket opens from the side it didn't seem secure enough unless I zipped up the pocket. However, zipping and unzipping the pocket every time I wanted to use the camera would be slow, and would quickly grow old.
It wasn't a conscious decision (at least at first) but I found myself leaving the Bloggie in my pocket and just grabbing my cell phone off the handlebar mount and using that camera to pictorially log my trip. As it turned out, I didn't use the Bloggie a single time throughout the whole trip. I have a Tackform cell phone mount that allows me to attach/detach the phone in (literally) about a second. It was actually faster than using the old Bloggie, and the camera took better pictures than the comparatively antique Sony. Motorola beats Sony. Nandesuka! Konodesuka!
For those of you not old enough to understand the joke in those Japanese words, here's an old Sylvania TV commercial for context:
One little gotcha I noticed with my cell camera is due to the placement of the lens, it was easy to get my finger in the shot as I tried to hold the camera. Especially when I was wearing gloves. So you will see a few photos throughout the next pages with the occasional finger shadow in the top left hand corner. Oops.
Roughly ninety minutes into my ride, I decided to stop at a rest area in Sgt. Bluff, IA. I could use the stretch break, plus with the sun out I wanted to put on sunscreen even though I was wearing a full mesh jacket.
Then something weird happened.
Right after I pulled in, a tour bus pulled in behind me and parked. As I was taking off my helmet and gloves, people started streaming out of the bus and walked right over to me and started oohing and aahing over my motorcycle. A few people were asking me questions about it. They were quite enamored with the fact that it was an Indian brand, rather than a Harley Davidson.
After a couple of minutes, most of the bus travelers went inside the rest area. I followed suit and used the bathroom, then spent a few minutes putting on sunscreen.
When I walked back out, there was a crowd of people standing around the motorcycle and taking pictures of it. As I walked up, they resumed talking to me and asking me questions like I was some sort of celebrity. It was surreal.
One guy asked if he could sit on the motorcycle and have his picture taken. I gave him permission, and warned him about the hot pipes on his bare legs. He assured me he knew about hot pipes on a motorcycle, swung a leg over and immediately burned himself. Can't say I didn't warn him. Nevertheless, someone else in the group took his photo sitting on my bike.
The bus driver even stood there talking to me about the motorcycle. For some reason he really wanted me to tell him that Indians are a better bike than Harley Davidson. I just told him that both manufacturers make a good bike, and there are plusses and minuses to all brands. Eventually, the bus was scheduled to leave so the driver and all the travelers loaded up and took off.
I found this to be a recurring theme throughout the trip (although this was the only time involving a bus load of people.) Nearly every time I would stop for gas or a rest break, someone would come up to me and look at the motorcycle and ask me questions. I guess I didn't realize how exotic people consider Indian motorcycles. They are usually surprised to learn that they're built in Spirit Lake, IA, less than 100 miles from where I live.
With my Andy Warhol 15 minutes of fame behind me, I continued south on I-19. I originally planned a gas stop in Council Bluffs. When I reached Missouri Valley, my "low fuel" indicator had turned on. I probably could have stretched the tank to Council Bluffs, but opted to just stop for gas a little sooner than planned.
When I was on the South Dakota side of the border, there was no wind at all. Once I crossed over to Iowa, I was fighting a strong head wind. This combined with interstate speeds was probably the cause of the increased gas usage.
One thing I noticed on this trip is that my motorcycle fuel tank holds 5.5 gallons of gas. However, the "miles to empty" indicator hits zero with a full gallon left in the tank, which effectively means the motorcycle only holds 4.5 gallons. I strongly suspect this was by design, as the electronic fuel pump sits inside the tank and is cooled by liquid. Always keeping a gallon in the tank ensures that the pump doesn't overheat from lack of cooling. Also, engines that utilize fuel injection generally don't respond positively to having their fuel source run dry, so this is probably another reason the mileage estimation is so conservative.
I stopped at a gas station with which I'm familiar, and filled up the tank.
I was starting to feel pretty hungry. My bowl of cereal had worn off. However, I didn't want to completely pig out as I wanted to have a late lunch at Stroud's in Kansas City, and didn't want to show up with a full belly. I opted to get a hot dog to tie me over. Technically, it was a Chedderwurst. Either way, it was surprisingly tasty for a gas station dog.
After I ate, I spent a few minutes cleaning the bike just to take the top layer of bugs off. I went into this trip with good intentions about cleaning the bike at every gas stop and every morning, like I had done the previous year. I found it much more enjoyable to ride a relatively clean bike. However, due to a variety of factors including heat, rain and motivation, this would be the only gas stop on the whole trip where I cleaned the bike. And my morning cleanings only lasted until day four.
Lingering from last summer, there was still road construction in the Omaha/Council Bluffs area. Interstate traffic was being routed east on I-880 and then back down southwest on I-80. This was a significant detour, adding about 30 miles to the trip. I opted instead to get off the interstate in Council Bluffs, ride through town, then get back on the interstate. This is what I did last summer and it worked well.
Unfortunately, my Garmin GPS decided to freak out once I got off the interstate. I had programmed my route file to include this through-town shortcut, but for whatever reason the Garmin couldn't figure things out. It continuously recomputed over and over, constantly trying to direct me back to the interstate.
While the Garmin was in a state of confusion, I continued to ride and tried to remember the shortcut I had mapped out by memory. This didn't work as well as I had hoped, and somehow I made a wrong turn on what I thought was a pretty straightforward route through town. I found myself on unfamiliar residential streets. I decided that as long as I continued mostly south, I would eventually find the interstate again. That strategy worked, although I didn't take the quickest path to get there. Later on I looked at my map and figured out that I made one turn a block too early, and that's what threw off my whole shortcut.
About the time I found the interstate, the GPS completely flipped its lid and rebooted itself. Once it came back up I had to restart my route from the map file. After that it worked mostly fine the rest of the day, although this was a harbinger of Garmin woes to come.
Back on I-29 heading south, I settled in for a dull ride through southwestern Iowa and into Missouri. Along this stretch I was behind a pickup truck. Suddenly some unidentified object flew out of the truck bed and landed on the pavement. I saw it, and experienced complete target fixation. Part of my mind told me to swerve, but the part of my brain that controlled my muscle movements froze, and I ran over the object.
Not knowing what it was that I had hit, I flipped the Ride Command screen over and watched my tire pressure for a few miles just to make sure I hadn't punctured anything. Thankfully the pressures didn't move, so there were no major repercussions.
The day was quickly getting warm, and was now in the 90s. I was still wearing my full PPE (personal protective equipment) which included a full-face helmet, mesh armored jacket, armored pants, armored gloves and boots. While wearing all this gear helped with peace of mind should I crash, it didn't help with heat dissipation.
Once I crossed into Missouri, I saw dark clouds ahead. I strongly suspected I was going to get rained on. The temp dropped about five degrees which I welcomed. Then it started to sprinkle rain, which I did not welcome. It sprinkled for about ten minutes, then stopped. It didn't rain hard enough for me to stop and change into rain gear.
After the sprinkles had passed, the five degrees quickly got added back to the temperatures. My butt and body were hurting, so I stopped at a rest area for a short break. It felt good to take off the helmet, gloves and jacket for a few minutes.
Back on the road continuing south, it was now close to 1:30 PM. I had hoped to be at Stroud's in KC by 2:30, but was running a little bit behind schedule. That was no big deal, other than it would just get me to my hotel that evening a little later than scheduled.
A couple weeks earlier I had messaged my friend Brandon about meeting me at Stroud's. We had a great time when we got together for supper during last year's motorcycle trip and I thought it would be fun to meet up again. Unfortunately his schedule was busy on this afternoon, so he was unavailable. Without Brandon waiting for me, running a little behind on my itinerary didn't affect anyone but me.
As I rode, once again the clouds ahead looked menacing. And once again it started to rain. This time, however, it wasn't just sprinkles, but a steady rain. I thought about pulling over to don my rain gear. However, up ahead I could see blue sky approaching. I decided to gamble that I wouldn't get too wet before the rain stopped.
I don't like to wear rain gear unless it is absolutely necessary. It's a pain to get on and off, usually taking about 15 minutes each time. Once on, it's really, really warm to wear. It's great for protection against moisture, but I usually want to know its going to rain hard and long enough to make it worth the hassle.
Turns out my gamble paid off. It rained steadily for about 10 minutes, then stopped and the sun came out. Between the sun and the heat, my wet clothes quickly dried.
When I got to St. Joseph I was low on fuel again, so I stopped and filled up the tank. A guy filling up his car tank next to me asked which direction I was heading, and mentioned he had come from the east and his arms were hurting from fighting the strong crosswind. I told him I was riding straight into it. I actually prefer a headwind to a cross wind. Of course, tail winds are the best.
I went into the store and used the restroom. I was pretty hungry. My hope was that I would be eating Stroud's in about an hour. However, I decided a little snack would take the edge off my rumbling stomach. Given the temperature outside, ice cream seemed like a good choice.
Looking through the case, I didn't want anything too big. I picked out a "Mississippi Mud" ice cream sandwich that looked tasty. When I placed it on the counter to pay, the clerk commended me on my choice. He said that was his favorite ice cream treat that they sell.
Rather than walking outside where my ice cream would quickly become a melted mess, I stood inside the store in the A/C and ate the treat. The guy behind the counter didn't seem to mind that I was just hanging out. Once done I concurred with his recommendation and left.
It was about another hour ride to Stroud's. Once I reached the north end of Kansas City I took the 435 bypass around the east side of the city. Stroud's is located a couple miles off of 435 on I-35. The Garmin GPS went funky again. It had a dot on the map where I had added a waypoint for Stroud's, but the route just kept me on 435 ignoring the stop. Thankfully I knew the area well enough that I ignored the GPS routing and went to Stroud's.
When I arrived at Stroud's, it was 97°F outside, plus humidity. I peeled off all my gear and stashed it in the saddlebags. The parking lot was pretty full, which I didn't expect at 4 PM. I figured at this time of day things would be quiet. Oh well, if I had to wait for a table at least it would give me some time to enjoy the air conditioning.
As I walked up to the building I noticed every single person leaving had a bag containing their leftovers. Stroud's is known for their family-sized portions. They also have the best spicy fried chicken I've ever had, which was my whole motivation for coming here.
I walked in and was told it would be about a 20 minute wait. I sat down, but within three minutes was shown to a table. The Strouds building was originally a log cabin built in 1829. A couple of additions have been made to the structure over the years. My table during this visit was in the original cabin portion of the restaurant. This truly was an old cabin, as my table was on a portion of the floor so unlevel that it felt like my chair was going to tip over backwards. It certainly is a place with character!
I ordered a three piece spicy fried chicken meal. I had brought my book in with me to read while I was waiting for my food to arrive, but the room was very dark. I read about two pages, but was struggling to see in the dim light, even though I had also brought in my reading glasses. I eventually gave up on the book. My salad arrived and I dug in.
The remainder of my food came, and it was more than enough for a meal. Three pieces of chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, a whole bowl of gravy and the coup de grâce: a couple of their famous cinnamon roll biscuits. I actually showed some restraint, and only ate about half of the meal.
The waitress brought me a to-go box, and explained the best way to pack everything in the box for transport. I overheard her giving the same instructions to other patrons as well. I figured she knew best, so I followed her advice with one exception: I stirred the gravy into the mashed potatoes rather than keeping it separate as she advised. I reasoned that I didn't want liquid gravy running out of the box and all over the inside of my saddlebag. By mixing it in with the potatoes I was less likely going to need to clean up a spill.
After paying and leaving a good tip, I went back out to the motorcycle. It felt like it had gotten even hotter outside. Yuck. I put the food in my saddlebag with the intention of finishing it later that evening when I got to the hotel.
Now, the Tundra Girl would have been aghast at that idea. She doesn't like to leave food in an unrefrigerated state for any length of time. I justified my actions by rationalizing that it was hot enough outside that the saddlebag would act like a food warmer. In retrospect, I never succumbed to ptomaine poisoning, so it must have been ok.
I put all my PPE gear back on, which took quite a bit of self-motivation in the intense heat. When I put on the helmet, it was soaking wet from sweat. Yuck.
Back on the road, I headed down to I-70, and then started riding east towards Columbia, MO. The motorcycle seat was beyond uncomfortable at this point. I was starting to experience some mixed feelings about the trip. On one hand I was looking forward to seven more days of riding after today, but on the other I wasn't looking forward to sitting on this seat for that long. Not much I could do about it at this point, however, but to grin and bear it.
The temperature kept rising. I watched my thermometer go up to 102°F, then after a while it mercifully cooled off to 99°F.
While I was riding along on this stretch I got a text message from my wife with some unfortunate news: the mother of the singer in the Tundra Boy's band had been in a motorcycle accident earlier that day, and had to be airlifted to the hospital. That was the only information my wife had at that point in time. Of course this news was especially poignant with me riding on a motorcycle too. I spent some time in prayer as I rode, asking God to let Angie come out of this OK.
We would later learn that she wound up with some broken vertebrae which required surgery. She would have to go through some recovery, and rehabilitation, but there was no paralysis. Things easily could have been so much worse! I am extremely grateful they turned out as well as they did.
I had about an hour to go and was starting to feel the weariness of the day setting in. I was starting to doze off while I rode, which is never a good thing. As much as I wanted to reach the hotel, I reasoned that I didn't also want to be airlifted to a hospital. I pulled off on a side road and got off the bike for a few minutes.
I didn't have to stand around too long. Once I was walking around the fog lifted from my brain and I perked back up. About ten minutes later I pulled out and headed back down the interstate.
I reached my exit in Columbia. I was very tempted to just ride to the hotel and call it a night, but knew I would regret that decision in the morning. Instead I first found a gas station and topped off the tank. Then, as I was riding from the gas station I passed an Aldi, so I went inside and purchased some bottles of flavored water. With the day's heat and me still wearing all the PPE gear, I knew I had to have been somewhat dehydrated.
I arrived at the hotel at 7:15 PM and checked in at the front desk. I then rode around to the back of the hotel and parked.
My room was up on the third floor. When I opened the door I was relieved to feel cold air. After last year's hotel experience I had been slightly worried that I would get another hotel with inadequate A/C after a long day in the heat. The air in this room worked well. In fact, it almost worked too well as I felt cold at times.
I got settled, poured myself some water and finished my meal from Stroud's. It didn't settle very well and left me with a bit of a stomach ache. It didn't feel like the food itself had gone bad (which I suppose given its transport method was a possibility.) It felt more like I was overheated, under hydrated and my body was resisting taking in additional food over more important functions.
I called home and talked to my wife for a while.
One of the things I started doing during the last few motorcycle trips was to spend about an hour each night making notes about my trip that I later use as an outline when writing the trip report for my website (that you're reading now.) I find it's a lot easier to remember everything that happened on a multi-day trip if I'm only trying to recall a day at a time. I just need to be careful and keep it at the short, bullet-point level. It's very easy to start writing in detail, and then it sucks up a lot more of my evenings on the road. Even at an hour per evening, that takes up a good percentage of my relaxation time.
With my notes completed, I then showered, shaved and went to bed.
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This page last updated on 08/28/2023