Day Nine - South Dakota Plains

The hands of the clock were just done announcing the passing of the second wee hour of the morning when I reluctantly pointed my steed in the direction of the soon to be rising sun. It was not long before the lights of Rapid City South Dakota receded in my rear view mirrors into the memory of what had turned out to be an adventurous time in the mountains.

Glancing up I could see some stars under the new moon sky and I figured that as long as I could see stars there were no rain clouds in the sky!

With the exception of three deer sightings alongside the freeway, there is not much to report on the happenings between the last traffic light and pulling up to the pump when the tank was drained after a few hours on the freeway. I also grabbed a hearty breakfast at Al’s Diner which was attached to the gas station.

As I finished up, a Gold Wing rider who had spent the night at the neighboring motel came in for breakfast and struck up conversation. He was very hard of hearing and repeated my every answer to his conversational banter many decibels higher than the level at which I had provided my responses thereby informing the entire gathered three tables that I was from Cleveland and was returning from a trip to Yellowstone, Grand Teton and Rocky Mountain National Parks.

When I was outside getting myself ready for the next few hours of riding he came outside for a smoke and introduced himself as Maurice, a retired trucker who had owned ten rigs in his day as well as all manner of motorcycle over the forty or so years he had been riding. It was his preferred form of travel and he had been to the Harley Davidson event in Milwaukee and was on his way back home to Santa Fe New Mexico.

He talked about how he had once owned a BMW but gave it to his son when he went off to college because he wanted his son to have a reliable bike and, he didn’t want him hanging out with Harley guys because, if the rest were anything like he was, his son would get into trouble in a hurry (protective father using lessons from his past to protect his progeny).

The next tank was as unremarkable as the first. I stopped at a gas station just outside Alberta Lea Wisconsin. There was no restaurant at this stop so I ate pre-made hot gas station subs with a cup of coffee standing out by the pumps.

As I was getting to my second sandwich a sparkling clean Harley Road King with a trailer and two-up pulled into the spot by the pump behind mine and I chatted to the couple for a few minutes. They were amazed at my trip mileage and also at the fact that I was doing it by myself. The wife then took a better look at the bike and said “well, of course he can do that, he is riding a BMW”.

A couple of miles up the road I turned south on interstate 35 for my run through Iowa before I jumped on I-80 east for the last leg home. The initial plan had been to try to get the trip home done in one long pull but just east of Waterloo Iowa I missed a freeway intersection and rather than heading south towards Iowa City on route 27 I was instead headed east on route 20 towards Dubuque. It was at that point that I made the decision that Cleveland would have to wait until tomorrow and I pulled over to book a hotel for the night.

Looking at the clock and the map I figured I would be in Davenport Iowa around 5:00 – 5:30 so that is where I booked a hotel and then continued to that destination for the night. I ate at Red Lobster (the prices have gone way up in the ten years since my last visit) and hit the sack with the intent of departing early in the morning for home.