New member contribution

[mhershon]

Two Thousand Miles in the Midwest

In June I rode to my high school reunion in Indianapolis, 1100 miles each way on "old road" US36, mostly rural two-lane highway. Thirty-six is not as celebrated or colorful as Route 66 but it's more intact.

I left Denver in the afternoon after the Silverstone MotoGP broadcast and rode 200 flat, desolate miles through eastern Colorado to Saint Francis, Kansas. At my motel I learned that the only place to get dinner was a Pizza Hut down the road. And the only place for breakfast had recently been set up in a convenience store near the Pizza Hut.

At breakfast I sat diagonally across from a friendly old guy, maybe 75 years old. I told him I'd come from Denver and was on my way to Indiana for my reunion. We talked about his daughter in Denver and how long it'd been since he'd visited her. He told me about his wife, in a care home for six years with Alzheimer's.

The first couple of years his wife had lived there, he'd visited every day. He and she would talk just a little, and she knew the kids. Soon though she only sat in her wheelchair and stared across the room. Been like that for four years, he said. She doesn't worry, he told me, got no problems, so she's healthier than she ever was. Now he visits once or twice a week.

He'd farmed all his life, he said, and saved a little money. His last crop had been hailed out, was how he said it, every stalk of wheat destroyed by hailstones. Discouraged, he divided up his farm and gave it to the kids.

Costs me four thousand dollars a month for that care home, he said. My Social Security and hers and some more. Maybe it would have been better if she'd had a heart attack and just been gone. As it is, he said, I won't have anything to leave anyone and she doesn't know me when I sit with her in that place.

Sad as that sounds, I want to say that the old dude and I had a good talk, made a bit of a connection right there at the breakfast table in the convenience store. When I began to feel I should get down the road, I shook his hand and told him I'd look for him at breakfast on the way back if the timing was right.

As I left, I asked the guy taking money if my friend seemed like he was doing okay. We try to look after him, he said. I think I'll buy his breakfast, I said, and paid the two or three dollars and a dollar tip. And walked to my motel and my waiting motorcycle.

I rode 400 rolling miles across northern Kansas, a couple of hundred miles each across somewhat more scenic Missouri and Illinois and then halfway across Indiana to Indy, all on the same road. Could be 1970 on Highway 36 but some of the cars are newer.

All the intercity traffic is on roughly parallel I-70. Only local traffic on 36. Small towns you'd ride through on Main Street. Very few shunts onto the interstate. Independent service stations, some still without pay-at-the-pump. Small-town cafes. Lots of religion, evinced by anti-abortion billboards, at least one in each of the 13 Kansas counties. I should have counted the McDonalds but I didn't; not many, I'd say.

In both directions, I got caught in afternoon gully-washer thunderstorms in Missouri. On the way home, I watched huge lightning bolts flash straight down right in front of me. Barely able to see, I found my way to a tiny town a mile or so off the highway. Only thing open was a cafe. I parked under their awning and walked in - in my faded Aerostich one-piece suit, dripping on the cafe floor. Everyone saw me; no one looked at me.

I ordered a burger and a coke and finished them. At a table not far away, six older ladies and a young woman were celebrating something. There was a cake on the table. One of the ladies got up and brought me two small square pieces of cake. Aren't you sweet, I said. After I ate the cake, I went to a window and watched the water roaring in the gutters. Dark as night outside.

Then I went to the table with the six ladies and the one young girl and asked the lady who'd brought me the cake what she'd do if she were me. I'd stay here, she said. Someone told me that there's no motel but there is a laundromat open until nine PM. Rain won't last, someone else said. Wait it out.

The lady who'd given me the cake asked me if I wanted anything else. I'd love a coffee, I said. I'll get it, she said, and hopped up to do that. I can get it, I said, but she shushed me and told me to sit down. Wouldn't let me pay for the coffee. I sat with those ladies for an hour, I guess. The rain subsided. The lightning stopped.

I won't forget you guys, I said as I put on my helmet to leave.

The next day, I met and rode with an Indiana couple on two big-twin Harleys. They were on their way to a national Motor Maids rally in Cody, Wyoming. The Motor Maids are a folksy organization of motorcycling women, founded in 1940. I used to see them riding parade laps at flat-track national championship races 40 years ago. I'd heard that at first they were wives or girlfriends of guys in the motorcycle business, Harley shop owners or mechanics.

I'd never met a Motor Maid. Dotty, I hope you had a terrific trip!

I reached Saint Francis, Kansas, the next day, shifting the last couple of hours from cheek to cheek. I stayed at the same motel and walked down to the convenience store for breakfast. Sure enough, my friend was there, sitting with a couple of local ladies. He saw me and pointed, saying Hey, I know you. He came to my table and we resumed our chat seamlessly a week and a day after we'd begun.

A guy rode up on a nice older Gold Wing. When he came in, I commented on the bike and we began chatting. My friend said he had to leave. We shook hands again and wished one another well. I talked to the Gold Wing rider for a few minutes and walked to the counter to pay my bill.

Oh, Floyd paid for your breakfast, the cashier said.

[kingoffleece]

Reads like one of your columns I enjoy so much.

[oldbike54]

 Nice work mate 

 Dusty

[stonelover]

Good story & WELCOME!

[Kiwi_Roy]

Nice story, I enjoyed that.

[Shorty]

Enjoyable ride, great story, thanks. 

[Guzzistajohn]

Welcome, I've ridden 36 from St. Joe to Colorado and back a few times. Nice stretch of road. The Mo-Kan rally is just north of 36.

[DesertPilot]

That is a great story.  It brightened both our day.  Thanks!

Of course, now She Who Must Be Obeyed will want to ride that route.  While I follow carrying all the gear... 

[Dave Swanson]

Great stuff.  It sure would be nice to be able to write like that. 

[pebra]

Welcome!
Good to see we've one more great storyteller on the board. 

What are the columns mentioned by Kingoffleece  -  guess I've missed something?

[et18]

Thanks, Maynard.  This is why I read your column first when the latest issue of MSL shows up on my iPad.  The latest issue just showed up last night:  How could anyone ride a Triumph and never have heard of Norton?  But that's another story..

[john fish]

Good story.
Thanks.

[oldbike54]

 Maynard is coming to Cedar Vale , here is your chance to meet him .

 Dusty

[Scout63]

You make writing look so easy and seamless Maynard.  That must take a lot of work. We are blessed to have you with us. I will donate 2.00 to Luap for every story, including this one. 

[oldbike54]

You make writing look so easy and seamless Maynard.  That must take a lot of work. We are blessed to have you with us. I will donate 2.00 to Luap for every story, including this one.

 Hmm , a challenge maybe ? I like it 

 Dusty

[Gliderjohn]

Thank you for the story, well done. 
I have been on 36 (mostly in KS) a number of times. Bit further south is 24 which also has many of the same charms. Too bad so many people avoid travel on these kind of roads. Lets one still feel the communities.
GliderJohn

[80CX100]

      Tks very much for sharing your gift and that piece, not a wasted word   

[guzzler]

Thanks for that mate!
Really enjoyed reading it.
Cheers Guzzler

[greer]

What a great way to enjoy my first cup of coffee, thank you.

Sarah

[Aaron D.]

I've ridden 36, great road.

And a great story. Once again when we get away from our computers and busy lives, we can see how wonderful life is, and how great it is to meet the rest of the country-or world.

[Chuck in Indiana]

Thanks for the tale.   It really captures the "feel" of a solo motorcycle trip, and why I like them so much. 36 will get you to Denver plenty fast enough.. and is a pleasant experience compared to 70, my most hated highway.

[kingoffleece]

He has a monthly in the UK publication MotorCycle Sport and Leisure.  That along is worth the price of admission.  I've been a fan of his stuff for years.  But the entire magazine is great.  That and BIKE from the UK are miles ahead of the remaining US motorcycle publications.