I woke up laying in bed on my stomach. While historically this has been my favorite sleeping position, in the last four years or so it has become a "no-no" for me to do. My lower back was screaming. Most nights I've trained myself not to roll onto my stomach, but I'm guessing I was so out of it that I turned to that position without realizing.
So, the very first thing I did upon crawling out of bed was groan and pop a couple of Tylenol. Then I proceeded to get dressed and prepared for the day.
I decided to give the bike a cleaning before breakfast. I didn't make it immaculate, I just tried to get the major bugs off. Even the "quick cleaning" still took half an hour which is a little more than what I anticipated.
While cleaning the bike, an issue with my pants became apparent that would annoy me for the rest of the trip. As I mentioned earlier, for this trip I bought a brand new set of armored, kevlar jeans. They were the most expensive pair of pants I had ever purchased, but I reasoned if I ever went down and slid on the pavement I would be glad I spent the money. In addition to the kevlar material, they had CE level 2 armor in the hips and knees.
Lots of people ride in regular cotton/denim jeans. Prior to this trip, I always had as well. Unfortunately, they give the illusion of protection should you hit the ground. Upon abrasion, regular jeans will rip and disappear in an astonishingly quick amount of time. Frankly, there is very little difference between wearing regular jeans, and shorts. As evidence, how many times as a child did you trip on the sidewalk and tear a hole in the knees of your jeans? If it happens that easily at human speeds, you can imagine how fast it happens at highway speeds.
Anyway, after a lot of years of riding in regular jeans I opted to buy a nice pair of protective cycling pants. While they have the obvious benefit of better protection, they have the disadvantage of weight. With the armor installed, my one pair of motorcycle jeans weighs at least as much as three pairs of regular jeans. Maybe four.
The weight isn't that noticeable, except for the fact that it causes the pants to fall down. Constantly.
When I first bought them and tried them on, they were a bit on the tight side but wearable. After my first day of riding in them they loosened up considerably.
A smart man would have worn a belt. I'm not a smart man. But I know what love is.
With the bike kinda-sorta clean, I went in to see what the breakfast buffet had to offer. Lots of great options to choose from, and certainly more than I could try in one meal. As I've mentioned many, many times on my web site, I like a big breakfast. Often times on my trip I will have a large breakfast and then skip lunch, often not eating anything else until supper.
I loaded up my plate (well, plates) and picked out a table to sit and feast. As I set down the plate containing my waffle, I noticed a trail of syrup from the plate to the edge of the table. Then I looked down at the floor and saw I had left a trail of syrup from the dispenser all the way over to my table. Then I looked at my pants and boots and discovered that they were covered in syrup as well. Not sure how I did all that.
While I am far from perfect, I try not to be completely uncouth. Leaving all this syrup on the floor for others to step in would be rude. Plus, it would be very obvious as to who caused the mess as the trail led right to my table like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs.
I grabbed handfuls of napkins and proceeded to clean the floor the best I could. I managed to stop one little girl from stepping in the syrup. She was just wearing socks, so that would have been a sticky mess for her parents to deal with. It took a surprising amount of napkins to sop it all up. Once the floor was as clean as I could get it without a mop, I tried to remove the syrup from my pants and boots the best I could. I wondered if there was any syrup left on my waffle?
With the syrup fiasco dealt with, I went to grab myself a couple of cups of decaf coffee. There was only enough coffee left in the carafe for one cup. So I did one cup of decaf, and one cup of regular. I hadn't had any caffeine for a couple of months, so I hoped I wouldn't regret the decision.
I enjoyed my breakfast, then went back to the room where I brushed and finished packing. After that I loaded up the bike and headed out. It was about 8:30 AM when I hit the road. Not too bad.
As I pulled onto the interstate, I saw that the cops had someone pulled over on the side of the road. This in itself isn't that remarkable, except this looked like it involved a lot more than just a ticket. There were several police vehicles there, and had the driver of the car out and standing with the cops.
Although it was morning, it felt warm already. Google said it was supposed to be 72 degrees when I left the hotel. The thermometer on the motorcycle said it was 84°F. The way it felt to my skin I believe the bike thermometer was closer to reality.
This being a Sunday morning, traffic wasn't too bad. That was actually part of my plan. I-70 across Missouri can get crazy with vehicles, especially once you get to the St. Louis area. A fringe benefit to leaving a day earlier and reversing my route was that it allowed me to get most of the interstate riding done on Saturday and Sunday morning. One would speculate that traffic would be a little calmer on the weekend.
Saturday's strong head wind out of the south had shifted to now be a strong tail wind from the west. That made for very pleasant riding at speed (less air turbulence) and some great gas mileage.
After an hour of riding I stopped at a rest stop to stretch. Even though I was still wearing my jacket, I put on sunscreen. I noticed from the previous day that the mesh material must not block all UV rays, as I was a little bit sunburned on the arms.
I did some stretches, which always makes onlookers wonder, "what's wrong with that weird guy?" The temperature was now up to 88 and rising. I persevered and still was wearing all of my PPE.
As expected, traffic picked up the closer I got to St. Louis. There was some gridlock where I-70 was closed for a large construction project of some sort. Traffic was backed up for at least a mile as every vehicle had to exit, drive on a side road around the construction and then reenter at the next on-ramp. I can only imagine during weekday rush hours that this detour gets the interstate clogged for many miles.
Once past the construction, traffic started moving faster. It actually was uncomfortably fast for a South Dakota boy like me who isn't used to every car doing 80+ mph in the city. I'm sure it was calmer than normal being a Sunday morning, but it was still unnerving at times. I tried the best I could to ride at the lower end of normal traffic flow speeds and stay out of everyone's way.
In the downtown area, I-70 branches east and crosses the river. Shortly before I got to the turn I started seeing the St. Louis Gateway Arch. Unfortunately, the interstate took a left turn prior to me reaching the arch. And also unfortunately, there was no good place to pull off to take a picture. You would think there would be a "scenic overlook" area, but I saw none. Consequently, once again I didn't get a picture of the arch. That makes four times I've ridden my motorcycle through St. Louis, and I've yet to get a photo. Here's a stock photo from the internet. Make me feel better and pretend that I was the one who took it:
I-70 took me to I-64 heading east towards Mt. Vernon, IL.
Once I got past the St. Louis metro area I stopped at a rest stop for a break. The temperature was now up to 99 degrees with no clouds. It felt great to take off my helmet, jacket and gloves.
The visitor's center was air conditioned. That felt even greater. I hung out inside for a while, and did my stretches there. I'm sure to onlookers I looked rather strange, but I'm used to that.
I went back out to the bike and couldn't bring myself to put my jacket back on. It was just too hot. I had ridden through the heat for the entirety of the previous day without taking off any of my PPE. Today, I had reached my limit. Although the jacket would give me better protection if I were to go down, I had reached the point where I needed the air flow more than the piece of mind. I still wore my full-face helmet and gloves.
In Mt. Vernon, I-64 merged with I-57 for a few miles, then split again. My route would take me south on I-57. I was in need of fuel, so I stopped at a gas station alongside the portion of interstate where the two roads merged.
When I pulled up to the gas pump there was a 68 Corvette sitting at the pump next to me. The driver and a woman were having what looked like a serious discussion. The woman walked away, got in another car and drove off. After the woman left, I tried to strike up a conversation with the driver about his car, but I could quickly tell he wasn't interested in talking so I let it go.
After topping off the tank I went into the restroom and reapplied sunscreen. Despite all the sunscreen I had been wearing, I still would wind up getting a pretty good burn on the inner portion of my arms, especially the left one. Not sure when or why that happened.
Heading south on I-57, the thermometer kept rising. It was hovering between 102° and 104° as I went up and down hills. To borrow an old phrase, it was "powerful hot." I was getting very uncomfortable, and not just from the torturous motorcycle seat.
There was quite a bit of construction along this stretch of interstate, which brought out lots of idiots driving way too fast and weaving in and out of traffic. Despite all the signs stating otherwise, I didn't see any police pulling over these people for making things unsafe for the rest of us.
I-57 forked, with I-57 heading towards Memphis, and I-24 heading towards Nashville. I took the I-24 branch of the fork.
I finally reached the exit where I would get off the interstate. Except for a few short instances, I was intending to mostly be done with the interstate for the rest of the trip. My plan was to get all the dull interstate riding out of the way early in the trip. As you will later read, this didn't exactly happen exactly as intended.
Now that I was off the interstate, I rode east on highway 146 towards Goncolva. The slower speeds and improved scenery made riding immediately more enjoyable. Interstate riding is great for getting to a destination quickly, but with rare exceptions it's not the most enjoyable method to use.
For those who read last year's trip report, you may recall that I rode the Ohio River Scenic Byway from Cairo at the southern tip of Illinois, up to a point just south of Goncolva, IL. At that place a large storm had developed just ahead of me, and I decided to bail out of my original route in an effort to avoid the storm. I rode down a side road to Homberg, IL, then backtracked and took a different way to my hotel that evening.
This year I was planning on completing the remainder of the Ohio River Scenic Byway (hereafter abbreviated ORSB so I don't have to type all of that every single time) starting where I left off last year, continuing through the remainder of Illinois, then through Indiana and Ohio ending at the Pennsylvania border.
The quickest way to get to the point where I stopped riding the ORSB the previous year was to take the Homberg Road. I had ridden part of this road while fleeing from the severe weather, and it seemed to be taking me more into the storm than away from it, so that's why I turned around. This year I pulled off highway 146 onto Homberg Road heading south, and at the moment there appeared to be no rain in sight so I had hopes that I was going to make it this time.
The road was just one step up from gravel. It was very narrow, and in rough shape. There were lots of places where the pavement had deteriorated, and rather than patching it they just filled the holes with gravel. I only felt comfortable going about 30 mph, and even then I was slowing down quite a bit and weaving around holes in the pavement. I only encountered one oncoming vehicle, and it was tight letting them go by. I can't imagine how two oncoming cars would fit if there were to encounter each other on this road.
Homburg Road was only about six miles long. At this point I turned north onto the ORSB heading towards Goncolva. It was more scenic than I remember it being, but honestly last year once I reached this portion of the ORSB I was in panic mode trying to beat the oncoming storm, so I probably wasn't doing much rubbernecking at the scenery.
When I reached Goncolva, I was more than ready for a break. Goncolva is not a large town. I'm not sure what the population is, but it does include one dinosaur.
I found a gas station and pulled in. As I parked the motorcycle I noticed the thermometer said 104°F. It's no wonder I was ready for a break.
I went inside and to my relief found the store to be air conditioned. I immediately headed to the refrigerated drink section. I was looking for something that had no/low sugar and no caffeine. Those limitations greatly reduced my available options. I finally settled on a "Smart Water" that had a flavor that looked appealing.
Next, I wanted something to eat. I looked around at the various snack items, and nothing was really jumping out at me. I had a hankering for some more ice cream, as yesterday's ice cream sandwich really hit the spot. I started hunting for the freezer case.
I finally found the freezer case over in the corner. The only problem was there was a rather sketchy looking guy sitting at a small table next to it. His head was down on the table and he appeared to be passed out. I hesitated for a moment, but my desire for ice cream outweighed my desire to avoid an awkward encounter.
I walked over to the freezer and started looking through the door at the various ice cream treats. Then the guy raised his head, pointed down at my shoes and said, "Your penis is untied."
"Excuse me?" I replied.
"Your penis is untied," he repeated, then he started laughing hysterically.
Not sure how to respond, I smiled and laughed, pretending he had actually told a funny joke. Then I quickly picked out a snack and got out of that section of the store.
I walked up to the counter. There were two young girls running the store, and neither one of them seemed too fazed that there was a half coherent odd guy hanging out in the back of the store. I paid for my drink and ice cream.
The store had kind of an odd vibe to the whole place, and had it not been so ridiculously hot outside I probably would have left and had my snack outdoors. Instead I hung out near the door and took advantage of the A/C while I ate and drank.
Yesterday's Mississippi Mud ice cream bar was tasty enough that I bought another one for today's snack. It was just as good as I remember it. I ate and drank and caught up with my correspondence on my phone. While I was standing there, I noted that every single person who walked through the door exclaimed how unusually hot it was outside.
With my snack finished it was time to hit the road again, so I walked back out to the motorcycle. My helmet was still very wet inside from the sweat. Also, I noticed that my hands had been sweating pretty profusely inside my gloves and were starting to get chapped. I decided that it was time to set the gloves aside for a while to let my hands recover.
The OSRB had some scenic spots. I pulled over to snap a couple of quick pictures.
As I rode I noticed the temp had now climbed up to 106°F. Much to my dismay I could see a big storm brewing up ahead. I wasn't sure if it was a coincidence that I was hitting another storm, close to the same location, at close to the same time of day as last year? Perhaps this was a common late-afternoon occurrence for this area? I wasn't sure. In any event, given my evening's destination there was no option to ride around the dark clouds. I pressed on and hoped that the clouds contained more bark than bite.
I wasn't sure if it was actually going to rain or not, as there was some spots of blue poking through the clouds. I hoped that perhaps the storm was in the "brewing" stage, and I could get past it before it started to rain.
That hope was dashed a few miles up the road as I started to feel raindrops and within a couple minutes the temp quickly dropped to 84°F. While the twenty degree drop in temperature felt nice, that's never a good sign when it changes that fast. The rain grew more steady, and pretty soon I decided it was coming down hard enough to warrant putting on my rain gear. I started looking for a safe place to pull over. The road had no shoulders and steep ditches, so I couldn't just pull to the side.
I saw two motorcycles riding in the opposite direction. Upon seeing them, I suddenly realized how hard it was actually raining. They looked like they were getting soaked, and that meant I probably was getting soaked as well.
Suddenly, up ahead I could see what looked like a gas station. I pulled in under the canopy. Because I wasn't getting gas I pulled forward ahead of the pumps so I wasn't blocking anyone from obtaining fuel. After I got off the bike, however, I noticed that the pumps were no longer operable and this was more of a cafe than a gas station.
I pulled out my camera and started to video some of the rain and wind. Then the hail started, and the wind was blowing it into me which kind of hurt, so I retreated inside the cafe.
Walking inside, there were a couple of girls behind the counter and a couple of customers at a table. I was obviously wet. They looked at me inquisitively, and I explained that I was trying to escape the hail and asked if I could take refuge inside for a few minutes. They gave me permission. Their expressions made me think I was the most interesting thing they had seen all day.
I shot a little more video through the window of the cafe. One of the locals struck up a conversation with me. He was really interested in where I was from, where I was going and what I was doing.
After about 20 minutes the rain stopped and the sun came out again. The temperature quickly climbed back into the upper 90s. I got back on the bike and hit the road again. From here I only had about an hour of a ride remaining to get to my hotel.
The roads were wet for about 15 minutes but with the temp back up to 97°F the sun quickly baked the roads dry in no time. It also baked me dry too.
I saw some more really dark clouds ahead in the Evansville area to the east. They appeared to be moving south so I was hoping that I could head north first and then come in behind the storm. It worked. I saw evidence of recent rains, but didn't encounter any more rain during that day's ride.
Later I saw a report on how huge of a storm it was that came through the Evansville area. It spawned some tornadoes. It was probably good that I didn't arrive any earlier than I did, otherwise I may have been caught in an even worse storm. I captured a screenshot of the radar showing the storm that came through:
At the Indiana border I wanted a picture of the "Welcome" sign but there was no shoulder and there were cars behind me so I didn't want to just slam on the brakes. I decided for safety reasons not to get a picture. When it was safe, I pulled over and snapped a photo.
Throughout the ORSB there was quite a bit of construction and maintenance being done.
I made it to Evansville around 5 PM. My hotel was on the east side, so I rode through the city to get there. It actually took me longer to ride through Evansville than I expected. Evansville is a city of about 120,000 residents.
I stopped for gas before I headed to the hotel. As happened so many times on this trip, a guy came up and expressed interest in my motorcycle. To my surprise, he had never heard of Indian motorcycles. He said he himself was an American Indian so maybe he should get one too.
As we chatted, I mentioned I had just ridden through some rain. He said he would like to ride through the rain because it would feel good. He was surprised when I told him it actually feels like thousands of needles hitting you in the face. Apparently not liking to have his facts contradicted, he abruptly walked away. He was kind of weird, so I wasn't all that upset about him leaving.
I found my hotel, which seemed to be in an odd spot. It was out about 1/4 mile in a secluded area rather than up situated closer to the restaurants and stores that the guests would probably want to use.
I checked in, then went down the hall to my room. When I opened the door I was surprised to find I had been given a two room suite. I'm not sure why, as I didn't pay for a suite. There was a back bedroom with a TV, then a front room with a desk, couch and a TV. It seemed to be a waste for what I needed. Even though I had two TVs in the suite, I didn't turn on either one during my stay.
I rested for a few minutes in the A/C, then rode out to get some supper. I needed to ingest some Vitamin K.
Now that may seem like a strange thing to hear someone say, so let me explain. This is the Cliff Notes version of the story: If you haven't already read previously on my website, I had open heart surgery in 2019 and received a mechanical aortic valve. While the valve does an excellent job of keeping me alive, my body actually sees it as an intruder. The way the body deals with intruders is to scab over the area, which basically means forming a giant blood clot. A blood clot that forms in your heart and suddenly breaks loose will cause a stroke. Therefore, to keep blood clots from forming I will be on blood thinners for the rest of my life.
Now, in order to keep my blood from being too thick or getting too thin, I have to balance my blood thinner medication with a proper amount of Vitamin K intake. Vitamin K is a natural blood thickening agent and is primarily found in green leafy vegetables like kale and spinach. They have adjusted my blood thinner dosage to match the typical amount of Vitamin K that I eat every week. Consistency in my diet is key. I then get my blood thickness tested every 2-6 weeks (depending on the results of the last test) to make sure I'm within the prescribed range of blood thickness.
At home, it's pretty easy. I buy a bag of spinach every week, and as long as I've eaten it all by the end of the week then I know I've ingested the right amount of Vitamin K. The tricky part happens when traveling, as it's difficult to haul a bag of spinach with me without it getting funky. So while traveling I need to find alternative sources of green leafy vegetables.
Not too far from the hotel was a Golden Corral. They have a big salad bar where I could get a plate full of spinach. Plus, oddly enough on Google this particular location got 4.7 review stars, which is an unusually high number for a chain buffet like Golden Corral.
I rode over to the Golden Corral and parked. When I walked in I didn't feel the expected cool of the air conditioning. Instead, it was just as warm inside as it was outside. I learned that the A/C was broken.
Well, that was disappointing. I was looking forward to a relaxing meal in the cool air. I decided to stay because I needed vitamin K.
While I was eating, I noticed that a couple women had stripped down to their sports bras. That's dedication to a buffet. Either that, or Golden Corral is the WalMart of restaurants.
I had a giant plate of spinach salad, then hit the rest of the buffet. Somehow, I managed to not completely stuff myself. I was full but didn't feel damaged like I often do after leaving a buffet.
I rode back to the hotel. On the way I noticed the motorcycle seemed to be complaining a little, especially with shifts that were no longer smooth. I'm guessing it was the heat. For the remainder of the trip the motorcycle never shifted as smoothly as it did the first two days.
The next time I change my oil I'm going to switch to a 20w-60 full synthetic as I've heard from other Indian owners (that always sounds wrong) that have had success with that kind of oil smoothing out their shifting. On this trip I was using factory Indian synthetic blend 20w-40 oil. I'm speculating that the engine got so hot in the 106°F weather that it thinned out the oil, which is also shared with the transmission.
I also noticed the motorcycle wouldn't start just by hitting the starter button like it normally would. I had to first hit the power button, then press the starter button. It only exhibited this problem on this night; the next day and for the rest of the trip the bike would again start just by pressing the starter button.
I suspected that maybe the FOB battery was getting weak. This suspicion was reinforced later on the trip when a couple of times I got a "Key FOB Not Detected" error that quickly went away. I've never changed the FOB battery, and supposedly they last about a year which was roughly how long I had owned the motorcycle. I did bring some spare batteries, but realized I didn't bring a tiny Phillips screwdriver that was needed to change the FOB battery. I wound up milking the FOB for the rest of the trip.
Back in my hotel room I showered and cleaned up. I texted the Tundra Boy to answer some questions he had about twelve string bass bridges, not that I'm an expert in that field. I called my wife and spent some time working on my website.
On this night I tried to get to bed at a reasonable hour which (for a change) I was somewhat successful in doing. Not turning on the TV really helped in this regard.
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This page last updated on 08/28/2023