First of Many

With issues still plaguing my bike, I rolled over to Rich's before leaving town on Sunday, the 2nd. He had an extra set of spark plugs, so I swapped mine out and the bike fired right up. Rich never thought he was gonna get rid of me. His wife told me there were higher powers that didn't want me going on this trip. After all of the shit I had been through the week leading up to this point(bike problem after bike problem, drama at my job, no money in my pocket, and the fact that I completely totaled my car thirty minutes before my first attempt at leaving two days before), I was starting to believe her.

Like I said, NOTHING was gonna stop me from getting to the East Coast. I bailed half-way to the Gypsy Run last year(Madison, WI), I vowed I wouldn't let that happen again.

Solo, I hit the road a little late that morning with everything running fine. As the day wore on, the more and more my bike seemed to be acting funny. 375 miles into it, in Kearney Nebraska, I was having more trouble with my chop firing up than I'm use to. I kept pushing on. Made it to the Eastern edge of Hell(aka Nebraska) after dark, changed my jets and unloaded all of my gear(the extra quart of oil I brought somehow busted a hole and leaked all over the inside, dripping out of my gear bag). Nothing like smelling like 20/50 Mobile 1 synthetic during an entire two week trip, every stop, women were all over me. Was still having trouble firing the bike up, but if I pulled the enrichener, everything fired fine. I was aiming for Kung Fu Tap and Taco in Des Moines before last call, so, again, kept pushing on.

I ripped into Des Moines after 1am and hit the bar by 1:30. Walked in, ordered a double shot of beam and a beer to get a jump start on a much needed intoxication after a 700 mile day. Generously, Fatty called the bar and informed the bartender Craig(who fucking rocks by the way) that I was a friend and whatever I needed was on the house. Being a bartender myself, I tip generously. We ended up shooting the shit after hours and I drank myself stupid, pulling my bike into the bar by the end of it all. Some carb issues were first priority the following day, so I made the patio picnic table my bed for the night and got some shut-eye.

The next day was gonna be a long one...


Lincoln, NE. Oil, everywhere.

Funk in Kung Fu for the night.

My bed the first night on the road, I've had worse.


*Thanks to Fatty and Jeff for letting me crash at their bar and drink my troubles away, if only temporarily.