Wednesday, October 29, 2003
Wednesday -3rd Entry-
Woke up this morning and found my rear tire tired and hunched under the pressure of my kitchen, closet, medicine cabinet, bathroom, garage, library and office
Hobbled across the road to a trucker gas station. Yes, they even have there own filling stations with special trucker gear and special trucker foodstuffs.
I discovered that they even have there own brand of air. With a quick squeeze of the free air-station my 41 psi tire inflated beyond the needle of my gauge (over 60) in 1 second flat.
Hey man, are these things working right, I almost blew my tire up for Christ’s sake
Well, it should be working. Maybe it is frozen
Uncertain if this was long-haul humor or not I let it rest. Deflating/unflating/uninflating my bloated tire back down to civilian-grade levels I swing onto I-70 West and punch it in spite of my broken hoof.
The fog is burning off slowly at 7 a.m but manages to hang onto the tree tops with fading fingers until past 10 a.m. Sure does look lie smoke, how far away is Illinois from So Cal anyways? Is their world still on fire? Is Hollywood burning? I wonder if my friends and family are awake? How’s that song go? Was that an armadillo? Man or women? What state am I in again? Need gas and more air.
OFF/ON-- like that it happened; for the first time in this entire trip I reach into my tank bag and pull out my shades. I found the Sun; it was waiting for me at the Missouri border. I missed you my beautiful inferno that I cannot look at I missed you so much. This is where Jesse James & Co. holed themselves away for a spell, it was from here that Lewis & Clark braved the uncertain and embarked on a journey into a land where many had already been and let’s not forget the arch.
Face mask up, jacket unzipped, tank full and crappy cigar fighting for life against the wind this is why I am so far from home. If only I could get my tire to hold wind, I would be even more happy. Like a peacock roosting in Midtown Manhattan I saw a familiar face in a very strange place. The distinctive wings of my BMW’s Italian cousin the Moto Guzzi were nested in the sweeping, absolutely remote landscape. I could have passed the shop and just enjoyed the ride, but I knew deep inside that no matter what, the proprietor would be excited to see my road-warrior in his territory and to talk of life on two wheels. I was right. Two hours later I rolled out of his shop with a patched tire, repaired windshield (drop I did not mention just forget about it), ear full of stories and a bunch of odd coincidences acknowledged.
Missouri- Sun, outlaws, explorers, vistas, stand-up people and most importantly, plenty of fresh air and it is free
posted by Xavier - RoadWarrior on 3:28 PM
Woke up this morning and found my rear tire tired and hunched under the pressure of my kitchen, closet, medicine cabinet, bathroom, garage, library and office
Hobbled across the road to a trucker gas station. Yes, they even have there own filling stations with special trucker gear and special trucker foodstuffs.
I discovered that they even have there own brand of air. With a quick squeeze of the free air-station my 41 psi tire inflated beyond the needle of my gauge (over 60) in 1 second flat.
Hey man, are these things working right, I almost blew my tire up for Christ’s sake
Well, it should be working. Maybe it is frozen
Uncertain if this was long-haul humor or not I let it rest. Deflating/unflating/uninflating my bloated tire back down to civilian-grade levels I swing onto I-70 West and punch it in spite of my broken hoof.
The fog is burning off slowly at 7 a.m but manages to hang onto the tree tops with fading fingers until past 10 a.m. Sure does look lie smoke, how far away is Illinois from So Cal anyways? Is their world still on fire? Is Hollywood burning? I wonder if my friends and family are awake? How’s that song go? Was that an armadillo? Man or women? What state am I in again? Need gas and more air.
OFF/ON-- like that it happened; for the first time in this entire trip I reach into my tank bag and pull out my shades. I found the Sun; it was waiting for me at the Missouri border. I missed you my beautiful inferno that I cannot look at I missed you so much. This is where Jesse James & Co. holed themselves away for a spell, it was from here that Lewis & Clark braved the uncertain and embarked on a journey into a land where many had already been and let’s not forget the arch.
Face mask up, jacket unzipped, tank full and crappy cigar fighting for life against the wind this is why I am so far from home. If only I could get my tire to hold wind, I would be even more happy. Like a peacock roosting in Midtown Manhattan I saw a familiar face in a very strange place. The distinctive wings of my BMW’s Italian cousin the Moto Guzzi were nested in the sweeping, absolutely remote landscape. I could have passed the shop and just enjoyed the ride, but I knew deep inside that no matter what, the proprietor would be excited to see my road-warrior in his territory and to talk of life on two wheels. I was right. Two hours later I rolled out of his shop with a patched tire, repaired windshield (drop I did not mention just forget about it), ear full of stories and a bunch of odd coincidences acknowledged.
Missouri- Sun, outlaws, explorers, vistas, stand-up people and most importantly, plenty of fresh air and it is free
posted by Xavier - RoadWarrior on 3:28 PM
