This may come as a surprise to those of you who know me personally, but once in awhile I do things that are less than intelligent. Take, for example, the train of thought I was in as I stuffed a 10-day supply of clothing into my tailpack for Stewberts and my 10-day cross-country bike trip. There I was, holding the rainproof gear that complimented my warm-weather motorcycle apparel. As I held the rain gear I looked at the available space in my bag and rationalized, Hmm; we are heading south. If it DOES rain, it will actually feel good in the summer heat. Do I really need this?

Thank goodness, this was not one of those less-than-intelligent moments for me. I packed the rain gear, loaded the bike, gave my girlfriend a goodbye kiss, and with Stewbert in the lead, we broke for the open road. On our way to Kansas City, Missouri, we made it as far as Cuba City, Wisconsin, before Stewbert and I stopped to break out our rain gear. Clearly, the Vancouver trip had spoiled us. Riding a motorcycle in the rain can go one of two ways: either you are disproportionately giddy and laugh a lot, or you become homicidally grumpy and wish to do harm to others.

This was Day One of our trip As Stewbert and I rode through Dubuque and beyond, I did not know exactly how I felt as I periodically squeegeed my visor with my riding glove. Thank God I packed my rain gear even a warm drizzle would have been unbearable without it.

Then, towards noon, we crossed the state line into Missouri, and experienced the most profound change. The hog-stink of Iowa dissipated, along with the rain and clouds. Suddenly, we were riding in brilliant (and hot) sunshine this was more like it! Just east of Kansas City, we pulled into my cousins driveway, just in time for dinner. Good hospitality, fresh pork tenderloin, and cold beer this is more like it, indeed.