Summer Dream 2006

Chapter III, family and friends closed yesterday. Chapter IV begins; a journey through the natural resources of the American West.

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good
with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

Traveling through America’s heartland inspires in its own unique way. If told to me I would not believe it, but it’s there. Like traveling through any part of this great land there are songs, stories, traditions… and people. Lil’ Joe led off with the Pledge of Alligence. Rolling westward we sang…. and sang… America the Beautiful, God Bless America and every patriotic song that came to mind. This Iowa country does it to you… it did to us. Iowa was remembered as a boring rush across the Midwest years ago; a different journey… a trip, Perhaps years in Oregon farm country have softened memories. Perhaps age brings patience and wisdom. Iowa is a beautiful state. A verdant palette upon which nature has bestowed its own majesty. Miles… thoughts… prayers.

In a search for the right words, I found this link. http://www.llerrah.com/america.htm If you click this link, take five minutes to just let it play. Like this motorcycle, don’t be in a hurry. Travel with me. Slowdown and open your mind. This is waiting for you. Lands seen, vistas yet to unfold.

Iowa is a lush green in the eastern part. Corn for miles, so much corn, that it has a fragrance of its own. Beautiful farms, gleaming silos like rockets poised. A faintly sweet, fresh green smell that lasts for miles. And this is heartland… interspersed every so often, faint and pleasant cattle smells, another mile. This is America.

The east slowly yields to dry as South Dakota encroaches on its western border. Corn still, but small patches; prairie grass and cattle ranches. South Dakota takes control. Straight across US Highway 18, just a half dozen higher than US12 that brought us east. A stop sign at a crossroad every 15 miles.

A detour.. north to I90. A hurried pace but too many detours and chopped up roads. And distance became important…

High speeds, tractor-trailers, and motorcycles everywhere. Fifty percent of the traffic is on two wheels, traveling at high speed. Everyones headed for Sturgis. They’re all in a hurry… we rushed. Joe, the bridle in his teeth, pushing onward, westward, faster…. A south wind tilts the bike hard to the left… another hundred miles. And finally, strength fading and ready for a rest, the bike rolls off the interstate at Murdo, another Super 8.


And I thank the Lord that as tonight' memories flow across the page, the words of America sprang to mind. Slow down; enjoy; see this country. A quick trip through the Badlands has just become the meander that was originally planned. Oh, how quickly our harried pace can take its toll.

And a good down home dinner - crispy fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy.

It was a good day.