The World According To Guitarguy

Well today was my first day of truly heading homeward.

I had a nice stay at the Best Western, which was the first motel that I’ve stayed in with a totally handicap accessible room.

This one had all the bells and whistles !

A two stage height adjusted shower head with fold down sitting board, handrails galore and even a lowered peep hole on the door so that vertically challenged folk could see any evil doers outside in the hallway. (or at least their evil crotches)

The desk clerks said that I had claimed the new record for locking myself out of my room, about two minutes after I checked in. (my personal best)

Then my second card wouldn’t open the door.

The clerk asked me if I had a cell phone in my pocket.

I wanted to quip that I was just happy to see him, but restrained myself.

He explained that cell phones can actually erase the entry codes off of the card.

I didn’t know that ! 

I stayed up a little too late watching “School Of Rock” , starring Jack Black and a host of musical moppets.

Woke up at seven, did the morning chores and had another waffle…..because it was there.

Fetching the porter’s cart on the way back to my room, made packing the bike one trip instead of three.

I exited outside into the parking lot and was troubled to observe a cloud front moving rapidly in a south easterly direction, complete with gusting winds !

Things started blowing off of the cart, which itself became mobile and rolled across the lot.

Not a good sign I thought.

I did after all, decide to reverse my direction yesterday to get away from the mighty winds .

Without taking the time even to call dear Ma, I saddled up and tried to beat what appeared to be oncoming rains.

Route 60 East is a fairly wide, built up highway, which made the wind gusts all that much more challenging.

The speed limit ranged between 65 and 70 mph and my bike sailed the roadway like a Sunfish on wheels.

I became used to it after awhile and learned not to clench up so much and to go with the flow.

Right before my first fill up, I passed through a town who’s name escapes me, that looked as though it had just been hit by a tornado .

Roofs torn off houses and a swatch of trees about a hundred yards wide, that looked like giant freshly trimmed hedges.

The remaining 20 foot tall stalks were still green with May foliage.

You see stuff like this on the television all the time, but it pales in comparison to actually viewing it up close.

Crews were busy cleaning up the aftermath as I rode by and It somehow didn’t seem appropriate to stop to take their pictures.

Later on, in another town, I stopped to photograph a tower with the name Granby painted on it , having lived for some time in a town in western MA. by the same name .

My friend Howard also lives in a Granby located in CT.

60 opened up to a full four lane highway and I poured on the speed, confident in my new found sailing prowess .

At Cabool MO., I headed North on 63 to a town named………….are you ready for this ?

“LICKING” MO.

Of course I had to stop to take pictures of the “Licking Cattle Auctions” billboard . (wouldn’t you ?)

Leaving Licking behind (sorry, pun intended) I took rural route 32 into the Mark Twain National Forrest.

This is where Missouri started to give me the creeps a little .

There was not a lot to see up in the desolate, windy hills of The Mark Twain Forrest and when I did come across someplace, it tended to be “biblical in nature”. (literally).

All sorts of bible camps and signs proclaiming this or that .

I felt like a fish out of holy water.

The higher the route climbed , the shorter the trees and the heavier the winds !

Upon reaching the crest of a mountain, I saw an old mill of some sort, with it’s stacks spewing forth black smoke.

The smoke was blowing horizontally instead of rising upwards due to the winds.

Some of it got into my eyes as I passed, which burned until I finally found my eye drops much later at a rest stop .

I felt bad for the few  homes I saw down wind from this place.

32 split off into 72 East which I rode for the remainder of my journey.

The clouds seemed to be traveling in a circular motion, sometimes leaving blue sky in the center .

I met this fellow biker somewhere along where routes 72 and 21 meet.

He had also been riding all day but from a different direction. (I believe he said route 34)

We were in a one horse town, minus the horse and he was searching for food.

I myself wanted gas.

We talked for a bit and he told me that he was joining a large group of fellow Jewish bikers later on this week.

He had an awesome looking VICTORY cruiser in my favorite color scheme of taxicab yellow and black.

As I left him to fill up down the street, he invited me to join him for an ice cream at this little shop right in front of where we were parked.

I told him that I’d meet him as soon as I filled my tank but did not follow through .

I’m afraid my visit at the gas station further strengthened my desire to get the hell out of these backwoods and into civilization before darkness fell.

The gas station looked like it had been around for ages.

The dirty, brown building was crumbling and the pavement broken up.

The pumps were of the olden days, with the rotating number wheels and the lever that you had to pivot sideways to start the pump, then return upright to shut them off again.

Most of the painted lettering had long since worn away, leaving you to kind of guess what the spinning numbers were supposed to signify.

After topping off, I went inside to meet a nice old man, sitting back in his chair, wearing a t-shirt, who asked me “How much do ya owe” ?

I was going to ask him why the amount didn’t show up in here, looked around the place, said nothing and walked back to the letter less pump to try and figure out my bill .

Upon re-entering the station, I told the man $6.60 and wondered if anyone ever gyped the poor old guy when he wasn’t checking.

I asked about the motel down the road as I paid him and he said “See that liquor store over across the street” ?

“You go over there and ask for a room and then they’ll walk over to the motel and set you up” .

That did it for me, I was outa here and fast !

I waved at the ice cream shop window as I rode quickly by, hoping that my fellow biker would notice me leaving.

Nothing much happened after that, a few stops for gas and water until I finally reached my latest motel (Madison Inn Lodge) and I’m going to be honest with you, I haven’t a clue what town this is in !

I think it’s called Junction City, but don’t quote me on that .

(Update: It was actualy Fredricktown)

That’s what the edit feature is good for.

Good night.