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Published: June 18th 2013
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Hillbilly Junction ... is about all I have to say because that's where we are and have been all day. End of blog.
LOL
Missouri it is today continuing along route 60. Missouri, in this area anyway, is the shirt untucked shoelaces undone state, a discombobulated mixture of fields and hic-towns along the route, with no shortage of lived-in trailers, abandoned trailers, overturned trailers, rusted out cars, unkempt people with missing teeth, closed down gas stations, grooved uneven highways, tattered motels from the 60s. It was an uncomfortable eye opener, and had me thinking about getting home to family and familiarity.
Perhaps the massive thunderclouds overhead darkened my spirits today. At times, I was quite anxious about the weather and imminent incoming systems that appeared overhead without warning. Forecasts today predicted thunder and lightning storms. We agreed that as long as the skies overhead and around us were clear, we would charge on, stopping if the weather became inclement. At lunchtime, dark black anvil thunderclouds reared their ugly heads as we crested a long hill. They literally came out of nowhere - one minute it was fairly bright but overcast, and shortly thereafter it was frighteningly dark, only
within a few miles. We opted to find the nearest shelter, which sadly was a small diner on the side of the road, stuck in the 70s. Remember the days when smoking was allowed in our restaurants? We were reminded. We sat in the non-smoking section directly adjacent and open to the smoking section, and tried not to stare at the patrons, mostly older, eating and smoking at the same time. Indeed they were. In comes hillbilly Mum and Dad with two young sons and they join grandpa and friends at a table enveloped in a blue hue. Dad pulls out a cig and lights up. Small sons play around wafting smoke away from them. Mum says "Stop It" and then swats them both on the head with a well littered fly swatter. We are out of our league here. Please let the clouds have moved on now that we've wolfed down our lunch.
They did, or so we thought. They had certainly moved eastwards, but it was still very grey, humid as hell (80% the weatherman says) and 32 degrees. During an earlier short water break, I commented to Ian that I desperately wanted to ride without wearing
my jacket, which is stifling in this heat despite having several vents. He laughed and said he was just thinking the same thing. And then without a further word, we both re-donned our jackets and got back on the road. I wish I was more carefree about things, and not so safety oriented all the time. I know how ridiculous that sounds. But man, it would have been heaven to have ridden in just my tee today. Carefree, like I used to ride in England when I had my first bike at 16. No restrictive Kevlars. No hot boots. No suffocating helmet. Freedom.
Hot, sticky, tired and needing to finish up riding, we stopped in a small town called Van Buren, bordering the Ozarks Plateau, to motel-shop. The first motel just outside town was a family oriented place on the Current River with a small beach guarding piles of inner tubes, kayaks, canoes for rent. This looks promising, until we checked out two rooms which both smelled like the river had repeatedly flooded into it. And with no laundry, no grocery, and no restaurants nearby, it just wasn't going to work. Next. Back on the highway, backtrack a mile
into the townsite itself. Ride by a yucky yellow U-shaped motel with no parked cars. Keep going. Ride by a red and white motel L-shaped motel with a few cars outside, but now we're over a half a mile from town (definition: laundromat, small store, and a Dunkin Donuts) and it's too hot and wet and cloudy to walk anywhere. Back to the canary motel where Honey Boo Boo's mother's sister is sitting on a plastic chair outside a room waiting for business. She shows us a room that she proudly tells us will only set us back $50 including tax. It has bars on the single pane windows, a small hole in the yellow door, and is dirtier and seedier than the luxury Little Scamper. Quick, make up a reason as to why this simply won't work for us. We're out of options, so back on the bikes to blow out of this hellhole. We are now taking a chance with the clouds, oh and low fuel which we forgot about in our crazed exodus. Winona, Missouri is the next town, 30 kms away. We can make that and refuel there. That is if we don't get sidetracked in
our thoughts and ride right through the invisible town before realizing we've actually gone 40 kms. I don't even recall seeing signs on the highway. Our fuel situation is now desperate. Ian, in the lead and clipping along at 120, downplays it in the pursuing conversation we have in the mikes. He's clever that way, keeping me calm even though I'm convinced he's thinking the same thing deep down because we suddenly slow to 105 and hold steady there. And as we're having this conversation, we ride right past a fuel station on the other side of the highway that I notice 50 feet too late out the corner of my eye. Illegal U turn time. This station's operational. Catastrophe averted.
The next hotel on the GPS horizon was the Comfort Inn in Willow Springs. Ahhhh, something we are familiar with. We got here in the nick of time. The storm is upon us as I write this blog and it's blowing and bucketing it down. It has already produced our very own small stream in the field outside our hotel window. I'm quite content to watch it all in shelter and dry clothes.
I almost forgot -
we crossed the Mississippi River on a normal bridge this morning, and guess what? It's just a river. I think I was expecting a celebration, but we never got one. Just a stinky quick crossing over a very muddy Mississippi.
Perhaps tomorrow we will experience a more put together Missouri, under much lighter skies. Goodnight, y'all.
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JOAN MUMBY
non-member comment
Day 50
Dear Helen and Ian, This part of your trip is not a relaxing holiday - it is an EXPERIENCE. I have been thinking of you all day and wishing that you were safe at home. Yes. I am longing for you to get through the mountains and into the Pacific North West. This song keeps going through my head - "You've come a long way together, But you've still got a long way to go" I Love you, Mum