Day 1.
Sunday July 20th, 2014.

The ability and opportunity to indulge in my passion of Long distance touring is something I do not take lightly or for granted. I am very appreciative and I work diligently and strive to indulge myself in this passion.
The plan today is to try to ride as far as I choose to. No constraints, no deadlines no limitations but only by how I feel. That is another nice thing I find about Lone riding. I reserve the right to make these decisions based solely on personal factors only.
At the beginning of every journey I try to get as far away as possible in the shortest amount of time. This influences my getting on the turnpike/interstate and “pounding the pavement”. As much as the interstates take away from me with respect to scenery and quiet environment, so do they reward me, in another sense, with their ruthless efficiency!
The night before, my granddaughter and I stayed up late checking out functionality of my newly purchased tent/camping equipment. Her plan was to be with me on the trip, camping each night in the new tent.
How could I break her heart by telling her she would not be along for the ride? My own heart hurt at the mere thought of that.
I promised myself at this time that I would make it up to her in the coming future with a camping trip together – Good Lord permitting.
I would “sneak” out of the house whilst she was still asleep in the a.m.

I am up, loaded and ready to leave. It’s 7:00a.m.. The odometer on the ST13 shows 19,743mi. She fires up at the touch of the start button. The fuel-injected engine needs no “choke”. The patented “Honda V4 Engine Whine” fills the morning air as she gradually comes up to operating temperature.
We share a prayer for my safe return and I kiss my wife goodbye, after she takes of photo of me prior to departure. With the Honda’s engine warmed up to recommended operating temperature, I head out of the driveway making a turn onto OH6 West, another onto OH83 South, which in about 6 minutes, puts me on the on-ramp to join I90 West. This highway would launch me into the bowels of the Midwest. Smack dab into the heartland of this country.
My heart pounding with excitement and anxiety, I settle down to a comfortable and legal speed limit of 60m.p.h..
I have no idea of how this day will shape up. All I find myself thinking about is what a lovely feeling it is to be out on the open road, heading west.
I begin to relax, knowing that with each passing minute I am putting distance between myself and the urban sprawl of the inner city.
It is a foggy morning out on the highway and visibility is not that great.
I do not need to look at my own face in the mirror because I know exactly what that big broad smile looks like! I can feel it in my being!
With the dull sunlight behind me urging me on, my faint shadow leads the way, tugging me along.
Without realizing it 2 hours go by. I am oblivious to time.
The road seems noisy. I hear much more of my surroundings than I feel I should be. In my excitement when I left home, I failed to insert my earplugs. (Out on the open road, these are a very important part of my safety gear and should be part of yours as well - if you ride. Over time, the sound of rushing wind like a lot of other noises and sounds can and will degrade and/or damage my ears/hearing.) So I pull over to put them on.

Out in the fields, some farmers are already hard at work.
I watch for several minutes. I am in no rush to get anywhere at any particular time. So what if I make it wherever I am headed an hour later, or sooner? I appreciate hard work and respect smart, hard working folks – like myself!
That is one of the nice things of planning and making ample provision of time. It affords me time for unrushed moments. Time I cherish and use to “take in” my surroundings.
Ear plugs inserted, safety gear donned, head checks for approaching vehicles, double-check for approaching vehicles, I join the stream of vehicles on the highway and settle back down to 60m.p.h.. (Ohio highways have a 60 m.p.h. speed limit. So if you pass through these parts anytime soon, be cognizant of that fact. Besides, the L.E.O.’s (law enforcement officers) would be more than happy to “make your acquaintance”.)
I begin to penetrate what could be a very low hanging cloud over the road, rolling into the fog which is gradually becoming more and more dense with each passing mile.
Whoosh, whoosh. Vehicles go by. In the fog they seem to appear out of nowhere. Then just as quickly as they go by, they disappear! They’re all “running” +5 m.p.h. at the very slowest.
The fog condenses as it makes contact with the relatively warmer windshield of the ST and “beads” off nicely (the result of my keeping the shield very well cleaned, polished and protected with a good quality product – I use Plexxus), allowing me to maintain a decently clear view through the shield. Visibility, in my estimation could be around 100 yards or so.
The ST’s windshield does a fine job of keeping the elements off me. At 60 m.p.h. in the highest position/setting, weather and surrounding conditions as they are, the bike remains rock-steady and creates a great cocoon/envelope around me by forcing the wind and fog around and over me. (At 7+ inches of travel and 13o rake angle, the ST windshield has the highest travel of any of the bikes with this feature out there, making for probably what is the best wind and weather protection of any bike on the market to date. “Thank you Honda”!)
Rolling on with this V4 engine so quiet, smooth and powerful, my Honda delivers a very relaxing and stress-free ride. (I offer a more technical description and personal opinions of this “fine” machine in a dedicated section of my journals.)
We finally break through the fog after a seemingly short time and before long, I arrive at the Indiana State Line.
With my personal, customary state-line crossing photos dispensed with, I push on.

Statistics have it that from Cleveland, driving in any direction for one full day you are within 60% of the total population of America. I am experiencing it. The flow of vehicles is unrelenting.
At this time the sun has done a good job of burning off the morning fog and no doubt it begins to feel more like summertime in the Midwest. The temperature climbs and the memory of past cold winter weather is nowhere in my mind. It is now an archived byte of data in my mind!
Pushing on, the miles continue to roll by effortlessly. Interstate 90 and Interstate 80 (Ohio Turnpike) share this section of the route together.
The ST has not even broken sweat!
I find myself a section of the highway between a “slug” of cars on the highway, making sure I have more than enough space around me for a quick safe exit/out if need be and settle into this stretch of road for the next stage of the ride. I always look for a place when I’m on the highway where I’m a good distance from vehicles and not too tightly boxed in, as a way to increase my personal safety margins. I call it my space of life. Almost always though, I’m either way ahead of these “slugs” or well behind them. Today though, the pace I need to get and stay well ahead of them is more than I care to ply at. I have no desire or need for speed at this time. Falling in behind them is presently not a very good option either, because the congestion is just more than I care for. Besides the Little Honda Civic to the left and rear of me is holding his speed and holding off any others who might want to suddenly cut in front of him. The F150 Pickup ahead and to the left of me is doing the same. I’ll still be boxed in unless I decide to do otherwise. Occasionally it will be necessary to leave vehicles behind as the dynamics of my space of life become altered. (Nothing that a light twist of the throttle on the ST cannot handle on any given day.) But for now, all is well and my safety margin is adequate.
I maintain good situational awareness.
Hakuna Matata!
With as much time I have spent in the saddle journeying, I find it very beneficial to take mandatory breaks every couple of hours, whether fatigued or not from being in the saddle. Although I do not feel like I need to make a break in the journey at this time, I take the upcoming exit and find myself just beyond the Indiana/Illinois Stateline, approaching Calumet City.
Eyes peeled on the lookout for the state line welcome sign, it was a chore. The Illinois Stateline sign, just as I saw it, went by in a flash. Shucks, I will have to make time somewhere else to be able to capture it for my photo collection/library.
My eyes and attention were totally on the road when I caught a glimpse of it. To my disadvantage it had been placed right at the side of the highway, on an almost non-existent concrete shoulder.
Pulling off the highway at this point was not an option.
Oh well. I make a mental note as a reminder to myself to look for another at the other end of the state!
Good time to take a break and fuel up, even though the gas gauge on the ST does not indicate the need at this time.
I find a gas station after much frustration over the last 3 miles. It is overcrowded. The only 1 out of 5 stations I drive to that has fuel. Crowded in the likes of which I have not experienced since I was a teenager in Ghana, W. Africa during the fuel crisis of the 1970’s. Patiently, I wait in line for four vehicles ahead of me on either side of the pump. At least I do not have to “sleep overnight in line” in order for a chance to fuel up. I am okay with that. Ghana taught me a lot of patience in this respect.
I fuel up and make a quick exit out of this locale. It leaves me no desire to cruise around and see the sights! So far it’s been nothing but railroad tracks, crossings, rail yards and lots and lots of uncut grass/weeds, abandoned buildings and un-kept properties. Not a very warm welcome for a stranger’s first time in this part of town! A certain kind of sadness and disappointment sets over me. This is America! How can this be? This shouldn’t be!
Finding my way back to I80, I turn west again and settle-in for the next haul.
Crossing into Illinois was nothing but sheer congestion on the highway. I found myself having to maintain a relatively high rate of speed in order to not get “run over”. This is crazy! I’m on vacation! But I’m making good time.
All of a sudden I find myself in the middle of a “slug”!
OK fellas, enough of this. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises.
Mirror check, head check, mirror check again, another head check, lane change, a slight twist of the throttle and the ST launches me ahead so smoothly and effortlessly such that within a very short time (and I mean very short!) the “slug” is now just a dot in my rear view mirror. I maintain this rate for a while. The ST “munches” several of these passing miles without even a hint of indigestion! LOL!
As a result, Illinois passes by rapidly.
The day wears on. As mid-afternoon approaches the traffic is still relatively heavy but not too much like traffic from earlier this morning.
I see an exit sign. Good time for a short break. I find myself pulling into the Great Sauk Trail Rest Area.
Home made Tuna fish sandwiches and a bottle of water go down very well! I take the opportunity to call home, let my wife know that all is well and register my GPS coordinates with her. Potty break out of the way, I suit up, mount up and get back onto the I80. I’m about 2/3 of the way across Illinois by this time and fast approaching the outer city limits of Davenport, IA – my next scheduled fuel stop. I80 forms a loop around the city of Davenport, IA. Crossing the Mississippi River, I know for sure that I am crossing into Iowa from the Illinois side.
I seize a brief chance on the crossover bridge to take my customary stateline pictures, where coincidentally I am literally straddling both states.
The ST is very capable of “returning” 340 mi to a full tank of gas and allows me to ride for the best part of a day if I so desire, without the need to stop for re-fueling. That being said, the ST is also very capable of delivering much less mileage to a full tank of gas. (For fear of not wanting to incriminate myself, allow me to leave you with just that statement)! And although I do not need fuel at this time, I will use it to force myself to take a break.
Breaks have become an anticipated part of my tours. I find they are good for my health, making me move around to keep blood in good circulation through my body, a chance to rehydrate and also presenting a chance to meet others and strike up conversation and friendship.
I never know what to expect and never expect anything. This way I am always pleasantly surprised. It adds to the adventure of my tour.
One thing I will say though is that as I travel around and make these friendships and engage in friendly conversation, I realize that everywhere I have been, we are all very similar in who we are and what we wish for in life. (That statement being made, there are of course exceptions to this rule as there are with many others in life).

So with photo op dispensed with, I make the full crossing and take Iowa Exit 306, which loops me around and filters me onto the South Cody Road. The south Cody Road becomes East River Drive and runs along the banks of the Mississippi River and makes for a very appealing and scenic drive, which is such a contrast to the seemingly endless and drab pavement of the Interstate system I have just relieved myself of. I expect this though, so even though I’d prefer the more scenic roads anytime anywhere, I have no choice on this trip but to utilize it for the greatest advantage it provides me!
I roll into Davenport. People are outdoors. A gathering of folks at a ballpark. The Lindsay Park. That’s what the sign reads. People walking around the commerce district of this area, enjoying the beautiful warm weather. I truly do not miss the cold Cleveland days at this time. I make the effort to cast those memories from my mind, even if only for a short period of time.
Before I know it I’m right back to my starting point of where I turned into the town. A small place, I muse. I guess I’d better find a gas station, take care of business and go about my own business!
Exiting the store after paying for gas dispensed, I am suddenly taken back in memory at the sight of a 1965 Honda 90. Oh, those were the really early motorcycling days. That’s close to when it all started for me. This machine is in mint condition, all original and no doubt the owner is very proud! We chat for a while. Actually, we reminisce for a good while! He is kind enough to let me take a few photos of it. I do not dare ask him to let me have a ride on it! It’s too precious. What if I drop it? I shudder at the thought.
But there for a short while, I am transported back in time to an age when 40 m.p.h. to me was “warp speed”! Turning my head left, I look across to The ST and reflect on differences and similarities of the 2 bikes and how technological advances in this area have come such a long way! The solid quality of engineering and design, the clean lines of styling and the aesthetic appeal of this bike of his that is obviously one of the great forerunners of mine! Seeing one in this condition in these times is a very rare technical treat, let alone seeing it on the road (outside of a museum) in almost perfect physical and technical condition – in all it’s vintage glory! I know he is a very proud owner. And to rub salt into my “wound” of admiration, he tells me: “and I have another one just like this in the garage at home. I just came out to fuel this one up and “stretch its legs a bit”.

Wishing each other well, we part ways. I watch him ride off till he is completely out of my sight. What a trip down memory lane for me!
Getting back into the saddle I hightail it back to I80 and on towards Des Moines, IA.
I’m beginning to breach the limits of urban sprawl!
Several passing drivers give me a thumbs up. Others wave. In combination with the smiles and expressions on their faces I can’t help but smile back and try to imagine just what is going through their minds. Do they really want to be like me, doing what I’m doing at this time?
If that is indeed the case and if I would have a chance to respond to them, I would no doubt say to them exactly what Michael Parks, playing the part of Bronson on the 1969/1970 TV series “Then Came Bronson”, would say to them: “Well, hang in there”!
This TV series ran for just 26 episodes/1 season and portrayed Michael Parks as Jim Bronson, becoming very disillusioned about life and work after witnessing the suicide and experiencing the loss of his best friend. As a way of maintaining a physical connection to his friend, Jim buys his friends’ motorcycle from his widow – a Harley Davidson Sportster.
Unhappiness, job dissatisfaction and questions about the meaning of life, prompted Jim to quit his inner city job as a journalist and embark on a journey in search of the meaning of life, across America on this motorcycle. (I know he was looking for a way to renew his soul.)
Tales of his travels across the country, his interactions with people of all walks of life, sharing his values and helping others in whichever way he is able to, is the setting for this show. So like a vagabond he sets off. Jim’s adventures start as he crosses the Bixby Bridge in the Big Sur region of California (one of my “must go, must see” places – part of Motorcycling Mecca for us traveling motorcyclists today).
His story, no doubt, captivated many others like myself and continues to influence the wandering spirit that is so much a part of our motorcycling lives.
So ………. One such driver has now “been with me” for a little over 40miles. His constant smiles and high revving 4 cylinder fellow-Honda engine, keep us company in the heat of the afternoon as the temperature gauge on the ST reports 95’F.
As the sun continues it’s descent in the western sky, clouds have long given way to a wide open and beautiful blue sky. As I continue westward, the now setting sun forces me to squint. I slide the internal sun visor on my helmet down to the lowest position, giving me maximum glare protection. (Thank you HJC). Riding west into the low-hanging late afternoon sun is quite a challenge. Time to slow it down a bit. I am beginning to feel the effect of having been on the road for the best part of the day. So I nudge back to a sedate 75 m.p.h., finding a quiet, safe zone in the slow lane. The accompanying Honda is still with me!
It’s well after 7 p.m. local time when I arrive at the Des Moines, IA city limits. I find a Mickey Dee’s (McDonalds) and pull in. Patronizing the establishment, I take full opportunity of “riding” their internet signal and use it to find and book a place/hotel to bed down for the night.
About half an hour later, I pull into my chosen hotel here in Urbandale, IA and dispense with the formalities. I will treat myself tonight. Tomorrow it will be a campground.
It’s been a long 14-hr. day. Many hours in the saddle and hot afternoon sun. It’s going to be more of the same tomorrow as I carve my way through Missouri, Nebraska, Kansas and part of Colorado. That is the plan anyway. So a comfortable nights’ rest and lot’s of drinking water to rehydrate will go down very well.
Calling home, I give my wife the run down of the days’ events and “e-kiss” her goodnight.
With an odometer reading of 20,440 mi., the ST has transported us 697 mi. on this day.
I try to make a few journal entries for the day after a lovely and welcome hot shower but sleep has the better of me after only a few minutes.

Next - CS Day 2.