Road trip

It was a splendid day for a ride and now, 248 miles later, I’m home with a lasagna in the oven and a glass of Rolling Rock.

I stopped for  a $1.23 double cheeseburger and cup of water at the horrid McDonald’s in Kennett, hometown of Sheryl Crow, then droned on up U.S. 412 to I-55 and on north to Cape Girardeau and Grass Roots BMW Motorcycles.

As I feared, they didn’t have the pants I wanted in my size, so they ordered a pair, along with a bolt to replace the one that I lost last year from my saddlebag mount. I’ve been making do with a silver bolt I got from the former BMW dealer in Wichita, but want to replace it with a stock painted example.

I also cashed in the coupon from last fall’s Return to Shiloh Rally in exchange for the advertised Grass Roots insulated coffee mug, which turned out to be much nicer than I had imagined.

And while I was there, I raised the issue of how to renew my BMW Motorrad roadside assistance plan. (See earlier post for the initial drama on this subject..) Grass Roots co-owner Reno Anderson got on the phone and tracked down the newly contracted roadside service provider and I was able to renew over the phone.

So I managed to get all of that done without spending a dime. And I had two free cups of coffee while I was there.

I hit 104 mph while passing a couple of trucks a few miles west of Kennett. A few miles on at the Senath intersection, an idiot in a pickup truck pulled into my path. I would have hit him except that I was watching him and guessed that he wouldn’t wait for obscuring traffic to clear, so I was able to jam on the brakes, hit the horn, shake my fist and inform him that he is a stupid motherfucker.