Colorado Part 1: to

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Last... what was it? Saturday? ... I left for Colorado in the middle of an absolutely horrific thunderstorm that had seen fit to park itself over I-75 just north of Knoxville. By Kentucky, it had cleared out, and by Lexington, I was absolutely cooked. That night saw Bloomington, IN, where an old friend from college put me up for the night and dragged me (quite willingly) to Taste of Bloomington. Beer and burgers. Other things too. All excellent. With a pitcher of PBR and a late night trip to Jimmy John's, the night was complete. Aside from her roommate's brother and his wife (?) having a very loud fight and the resultant three hours of sleep, it was a great first stop.

(The lack of sleep will become an ongoing theme.)










The next morning, while nursing a mild hangover and planning my route, I began the ongoing process of helmet decoration thusly:






After a beautiful ride through southern Indiana (... seriously, who knew parts of Indiana were so beautiful... if it weren't for the winters, I'd probably want to move there), I met Delta Force at a truck stop somewhere along I-70.







... where we promptly began tearing apart Business Dan's bike to find out why his gauges and lights were no longer functioning.




Blown fuse replaced, we began a day of misery riding through the midwest heat. The highlight was a couple of cool cages at a truck stop somewhere in Misery. The lowlight was morons who couldn't figure out how to pass each other throughout the entire rest of that godforsaken state. Despite this, freeway combat mode allowed us a thoroughly inadvisable average speed, which, as I understand it was the absolute fastest Scotty's DL650 could manage.




Finally settling in Topeka for the night, our room number was an indication of the terror we were to inflict on the poor waitress with the big butt who served us dinner in the bar.






(Note Black Joe trying to hide his beverage.)


This is the happiest I've ever seen Scotty:




This is why:




The next day we woke up to Rench and Hunter making a poor attempt at toilet papering our bikes:




We later bumped into them at a rest stop and returned the favor by introducing them to some of Kansas's finest:




... which pretty much marked the end of our high speed run. Such is life. Kansas went on for miles upon miles. And miles. Terrible. The problem with Kansas is not so much the quality, but definitely the quantity. Weary at a rest stop:




That was the last before we parted ways and I led Rench and Hunter through brutal wind and miserable traffic to the DAG. What happened from there is another story for another day (meaning probably tomorrow). Stay tuned...