June 25, 2009 Crying in Buenos Aires

5 AM Wake-up call; Hiking the Appalachian Trail; Highway littering; Storm chasing: Quiz

La Crosse Comfort Inn. A knock at the door. The room is dark and we are asleep. I wake up, see it’s 5:08 AM and go to the door to see who’s knocking on our door at this hour. And it’s......Bobby, fully clothed in his leather jacket and his helmet in his left hand. And why? It happens that we had spoken the night before about how Bill and I had to wait 40 minutes on the street in Sault Ste. Marie the prior morning waiting for Bob to get ready to go to breakfast with us. And to avoid that, we had said that we would go to breakfast at 6 AM sharp. Bob told me later that he had woken up, afraid that he had overslept and not having his contacts in, he grabbed his insulin pump that has the time on it and read “5:50.” So he scrambled to dress and rushed to our room. But he had forgotten that we had moved into a different time zone, and he forgot that his pump was still on Eastern time. Tonight we made sure that he understood that we had moved into another time zone, making two hours difference from Eastern time. So hopefully he won’t be knocking on our door at 4 or 5 tomorrow morning.

I know that Robyn is telling people that I have gone hiking on the Appalachian Trail to get away from all the stress of my job. But I’m here to tell you that is not the reason for my unexplained absence. In fact, I’ve spent the last five days crying in Buenos Aires. No, no, I have that wrong. That’s Governor Sanford (of the “family-value Republicans” ). As for me, I have been away on a motorcycle trip, and have made it safe and sound, although a little sunburned and beat up, to Rapid City, SD, our initial destination. But the news does give us great stories to mock the high and mighty. I think on our trip to South America, it was Gov. Spitzer (of the “I’m going to clean up New York” Democrats) who got caught with his pants down. Great stuff.

It was a long day for the last 645 miles from La Crosse, starting in very dense fog at 6:45 AM , breaking out as Billy said we would several miles after we crossed the Mississippi River. We had done about 300 miles by lunchtime, and I had only lost a neckerchief and my magnetized tank bag with my map in it by then. The kerchief came untied from around my neck and I tried to stuff it beneath my butt. It worked out from under me, flew onto my left arm, and then, while I was thinking how I could retrieve it while going 75 mph, it flew away never to be seen again. A half hour or so later, I lifted my right leg off the highway peg and accidentally hit the tank bag, the wind caught it, it struck me in the shoulder and flew off to God knows where. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what had hit me and tried to look my bike over to see if it was missing any important parts, like the front wheel, or the footboard. Only later when we gassed up did Billy tell me that it was the tank bag. Since it only had a map in it, he didn’t think it was worth stopping for. And later still, during a long construction area, I took an exit that I shouldn’t have taken just following a dump truck and a car that I had been following for miles and miles. Just another example of how we’re (or how I’m) getting fatigued.

To cap it off, the last 94 miles started with a race between us and a very black thunderstorm cloud. I was sure we wouldn’t escape being caught in it, but the Interstate turned to the right by 20 degrees and I floored it seeing a glimmer of hope that we could outrun it. We really had no choice. The nearest town was Wall, about 20 miles away, and we were in the wide open plains. We made it, a fact that became clear only after 10 miles of frantic riding at 75-80 mph (the speed limit is 75 mph). Then the winds kicked up and our ride for the last 20 miles into Rapid City was in strong, gusty winds. Passing big trucks became even more difficult and we were really buffeted around, not something we needed after almost 13 hours since we left La Crosse.

And here’s a quiz for you. The blog is called “To Look For America.” What is the origin of this title? Hint: She thought the man in the gabardine suit was a spy.

Sleeping in tomorrow and then to the Fort Meade museum to confront the Imposter who, I understand, is staying in Sturgis.