I've learned to come prepared. I carry a pretty robust tool selection, a tire plug kit with CO2 and hand pump which I've never had to use, and just this time added a small lithium battery pack that will jump start a motorcycle. I have a little mesh drawstring bag with Aleve, lip balm, Visine, tummy tablets and other stuff, kept handy whatever and wherever I'm riding. The bagger always has a small first aid kit. But (fortunately) I used none of them on this trip, and the thing that was most important, learned also from experience, was a tube of Butt Paste. I guess it's basically diaper rash cream, but monkey butt is a real thing when stacking up long, hot days, and when applied as a preventative, it worked wonders!
The morning I woke up in Wichita Falls, I woke in the middle of a dream where I was walking into a little diner outside Hazleton, PA and alongside me walked up Jerry Reed from 1977. I made eye contact, smiled, and said "hey there, Snowman." He grinned his Jerry Reed grin and said, "good morning, son!" I followed him in the door and then just like that he was gone; vanished into thin air, and I woke up. Later that day, in the middle of nowhere listening to Red, White, and Booze on Sirius XM (my easy day, remember?) what comes on but Eastbound and Down. I haven't heard that one in probably 20 years. I love when that shit happens.
Speaking of the middle of nowhere in Texas, I noted in an earlier post how far away from civilization you can really get out there, and you don't always realize it on the interstate. We see signs here saying Fogelsville 20, and know we're going through Lenhartsville, Krumsville, and New Smithsville along the way. Out there, you see a sign for a town 37 miles away, and it means you will not be seeing a single man-made structure for 37 miles. And there might not be a stop sign when you pass through. Gas? Fingers crossed. But... on the 40 mile ride from Plainview to Earth before dawn, I found a different reality. Along with cell and radio towers, there are many lonely lights dotting the landscape, and some in bunches that would have to be a feed mill, or petro rig, or some other activity that you never saw 12 hours ago in the daylight. I mean, it's still desolate. But someone ran wire.
Along with my three (plus one) blessings of good fortune from my lucky star, I also had some more minor weather miracles. Twice, on a highway dead flat and straight for 100 miles, I found myself headed directly into a black storm cloud that had to be less than 10 miles ahead. Both times, the GPS (I keep it zoomed out with north at the top) showed the interstate making a dogleg, once just outside Springfield where it was moved as an old Rt 66 bypass, and once on the way northeast toward St Louis. Literally rode right around the storm both times. Aside from the two downpours on Day 2, which I had suited up for in just the nick of time, and the showers I simply waited out, I really did do well with rain.
It dawned on me a day later that on the way to Wichita Falls, one of my options under consideration was to go through Texarkana. I instead went through Hot Springs and Paris, TX, but that's probably where the dream came from. I had no influence over Sirius XM's playlist, though. Also, I was technically westbound at the time :)
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