Summer Dream 2006

Well, we’ve arrived in Minneapolis. Me and little Joe are sitting here sippin’ on corn squeezin’s and telling lies about the perils of the prairie. Joe can sure tell whoppers.

The day started at a leisurely 7am instead of 5:30. With a shorter day planned, a little more sleep, a little warmer start and the sun above the eye-peeping horizon. And the first sight on the road was this magnificent sunrise effect. Inspirational for me and it made for another great day. More miles of open land. The high desert gives way to the prairies. The prairies blend into range land. Range land is tamed and becomes grassland. And the Great Plains finally yields to civilization, to corn and irrigation and farms by the dozens.

As you probably know, bikers wave to each other. A quiet knowing wave that signifies a bond, sharing a motorcycle. And today I felt different, like I paid some dues and reached a different level. Call it the brotherhood of the road. Long haul truckers must feel it, a breed apart. When you put in the time you start to notice the town riders from the travelers. It feels nice to have stepped it up a notch. And seeing the country on the back of a Harley Davidson motorcycle is what marketing folks make their living writing about. It’s great.

1761 miles have rolled under those tires. Time for an oil change with the miles prior to departure. Yesterday was 570 miles. No wonder it felt tired. Today was a more leisurely 370, 7am to 4pm with an hour of stops.

It was a day of odors, of smells, some good… and others. First I forgot yesterday, the sun on the wooden boardwalks in Roundup, MT. This morning a fresh clover field with the heavy sweetness lasted a quarter mile outside Mobridge SD. Leather in a shop in Roscoe, SD. Asphalt on some new highway stretches, brought totally to life by a huge asphalt plant in Aberdeen, SD. And the streets there were literally running in oil. The smell of civilization. The decaying but restful aroma of a swampy, marshy land. The sour mash smell of silage in Webster. A chicken ranch near Ortonville, MN… breath gently here. And skunk, occasional but memorable. Corn fields, a different smell, but unique.

Another dichotomy like Day 1, there is so much water across the north yet the land lies parched, fed only by the fall of rain or the hand of man. The Missouri river runs wide and deep, yet the banks in Mobridge are dead grass as far as the eye can see.

So the day closes with snacks and beer and wine and a fantastic barbecue of veggies and meats , and the great company of my sister Barb.