The Last Spoonful
Sunday, June 4, 2006
The final day of any trip is always hard. Sure, it is nice to get home, but sometimes you wish you could stay out on the road forever. Despite one or two rainstorms, the weather had been about perfect, the bike was running great, and I was having a good time. Still, however, I had to head home.
My first stop out of the hotel parking lot was for fuel. After I was fueled up, I headed south through Joliet, Illinois. A small section of this run through town would be along Route 66. You just cannot ride on that road without the song popping into your head.
Most of the day would be spent on Highway 52, through Lafayette, Indiana. My brother lives here, and my niece was graduating high school today. I thought I would fuel up here, but the one gas station I had on the GPS was closed for repairs, and the other I saw was hidden from view until it was too late. I thought I could make it to Lebanon, Indiana, so I pushed on down the highway.
Eventually, US 52 merges into I-65. Here, I would run into a problem. Traffic was at a stand still. I pulled down the ramp, and into traffic, wondering if here is where I would run out of gas. I noticed that the far left lane was moving, as it was an exit into town. I moved over one lane and a time, caught a break, and went for it. I don't know this town very well, so the GPS was a savior, and helped me find a gas stop. 4.2 Gallons went into the 4.5 gallon tank. I guess I had about ten more miles left until stalling.
I gave Nina a call to tell her I was less than an hour away, had a quick snack, and headed back out onto the highway. I could see where the crash had occurred that backed up traffic, so I found an entrance to the south of it. The traffic was thinned out, but more importantly, moving at highway speed. I 65 leads into Indianapolis, and into I 70, which crosses the capitol city. At the east edge of town, I ramped over to 465, Indy's Loop, and headed for home.
I only have a short trip up my street to get home, but I could feel the rush of all the memories from the trip flowing through my mind. The custard from cruisers, feeling small as I looked at the Mackinaw Bridge, and feeling big for conquering that beast. The cold, gray air, that the fog created in Grand Marias, Upper Michigan, the beauty of Pictured Rocks and Door County. I could hear Mike Voldt, of Voldt's Corner Bar and Restaurant asking me, by name, if my meal was okay. I could feel my body swaying to the curves up to Washington Island. Most of all, though, I remember meeting new people, and getting to better know some I met last year. I think the feeling that I most enjoy is that there is no pre-conceived notions, no snobbery among bikers at an event like the Soup Run. Everyone is interested in making new friends, telling new stories, and re-canting the ones they have told a hundred times.
As I turn into the driveway, I am only a hundred feet from ending my 2006 Soup Run, my mind will race until the last turn of the wheels. Some would say the last spoonful is always the best, but I think I may have to disagree, this time.
The final day of any trip is always hard. Sure, it is nice to get home, but sometimes you wish you could stay out on the road forever. Despite one or two rainstorms, the weather had been about perfect, the bike was running great, and I was having a good time. Still, however, I had to head home.
My first stop out of the hotel parking lot was for fuel. After I was fueled up, I headed south through Joliet, Illinois. A small section of this run through town would be along Route 66. You just cannot ride on that road without the song popping into your head.
Most of the day would be spent on Highway 52, through Lafayette, Indiana. My brother lives here, and my niece was graduating high school today. I thought I would fuel up here, but the one gas station I had on the GPS was closed for repairs, and the other I saw was hidden from view until it was too late. I thought I could make it to Lebanon, Indiana, so I pushed on down the highway.
Eventually, US 52 merges into I-65. Here, I would run into a problem. Traffic was at a stand still. I pulled down the ramp, and into traffic, wondering if here is where I would run out of gas. I noticed that the far left lane was moving, as it was an exit into town. I moved over one lane and a time, caught a break, and went for it. I don't know this town very well, so the GPS was a savior, and helped me find a gas stop. 4.2 Gallons went into the 4.5 gallon tank. I guess I had about ten more miles left until stalling.
I gave Nina a call to tell her I was less than an hour away, had a quick snack, and headed back out onto the highway. I could see where the crash had occurred that backed up traffic, so I found an entrance to the south of it. The traffic was thinned out, but more importantly, moving at highway speed. I 65 leads into Indianapolis, and into I 70, which crosses the capitol city. At the east edge of town, I ramped over to 465, Indy's Loop, and headed for home.
I only have a short trip up my street to get home, but I could feel the rush of all the memories from the trip flowing through my mind. The custard from cruisers, feeling small as I looked at the Mackinaw Bridge, and feeling big for conquering that beast. The cold, gray air, that the fog created in Grand Marias, Upper Michigan, the beauty of Pictured Rocks and Door County. I could hear Mike Voldt, of Voldt's Corner Bar and Restaurant asking me, by name, if my meal was okay. I could feel my body swaying to the curves up to Washington Island. Most of all, though, I remember meeting new people, and getting to better know some I met last year. I think the feeling that I most enjoy is that there is no pre-conceived notions, no snobbery among bikers at an event like the Soup Run. Everyone is interested in making new friends, telling new stories, and re-canting the ones they have told a hundred times.
As I turn into the driveway, I am only a hundred feet from ending my 2006 Soup Run, my mind will race until the last turn of the wheels. Some would say the last spoonful is always the best, but I think I may have to disagree, this time.
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