July 11, 2009 Amber Waves of Grain

How long; What we learned; What we endured and survived; What we found

So, we’re home. 6,099 miles. We drove from Syracuse to Scarborough on Thursday, 420 miles or so, and the bedlam of the traffice on I 495 through Lawrence, MA was offset by the discovery of the Mohawk Trail (Route 2 through northern Mass after exiting I 90 right before Springfield onto I 91). Once again, a Little League game and great hospitality at Bill and Donna’s were our welcome. Then, sadly leaving Bill behind, Griff, Bob and I departed Friday morning. We made our last gas stop in Augusta, with hugs to Bob who would peel off at Dysart’s to go to the Harley dealership in Hermon to have his bike fixed. Griff and I continued thereafter and made it safe and sound.
NO TICKETS. NO ACCIDENTS. That was our mantra all the way and we did it to the relief of spouses, girl friend and family members.
We learned most recently that the friendliness of a waitress is in inverse proportion to her breast size. Of the larger, the waitress in Rapid City in the Irish Restaurant (where they didn’t have Irish beer or Irish coffee) was most disagreeable and even Bill’s charm couldn’t melt that heart of lead, as opposed to Heather (at TGIF in Onalaska, WI) and Sara (at Bob Evans), both nursing students, who were very solicitous of our welfare and quick with a smile. And I learned that America can also be found in a gas station if one only looked. We learned of Bob’s great sense of humor (“We’re not on vacation - we’re on maneuvers.” And after breakfast,he’d have to go back to the room “to drop the kids off at the pool.”). And of Bill’s thoughtfulness for other people, always asking a couple if he could take their picture together, and making a point to call wait staff, whether desk clerks, waitresses, gas station clerks, etc. by their first names. And of Griff’s strength and courage with severe osteoarthritis, going great distances on the bike without stops and walking a mile or more in great pain at Niagara Falls to get lunch, and of his generosity sending 15 lobsters to the staff at Black Hills Harley-Davidson for all they did for all of us. We also learned that there is something that surpasses all political differences and religious differences - a shared experience of an odyssey like this. And we learned so much more.
And out West we endured long, straight traffic-free roads (and when you got bored of those, curvy, made-for-motorcycle roads), under powder blue skies, with puffy white clouds, and survived “amber waves of grain” and “purple mountains majesty,” both of which we saw, warm temperatures, frequent stops, plush accommodations with wonderful hospitality wherever we stayed, fair winds always at our backs, a vista full of changes and of sights we’ve never seen before, herds of cattle with a few buffalo thrown in, free breakfasts, people who always asked you if they could help you or if you needed anything and were willing to deliver if you did need help. It was really tough but we somehow made it through all those trials. And we laughed. We laughed our way through America. The longer we went, the more we laughed. We laughed so hard, we cried so the tears streamed down our cheeks.
And what did we find? We found our grandfather. And so much more.

Thank you for participating in this journey. Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, DB, Gunny, etc.