I had stopped along the way to Winterset, at a Yamaha/Suzuki/Honda shop to get a second opinion on my rear tire. As I mentioned earlier, when just about stopped I could feel a little "scuffing" sensation coming from the rear.
The wear bars were showing in some places, but not in others. The tech looked at the tire. I figured I had about 1000 miles to home, maybe more. He thought it would make it, but "to keep an eye on it."
So, I ride on, with the angst building.
A couple of years ago I had a blow out of the rear at speed about 40 miles west of Kerrville, Texas. I remember:
1) thinking initially W T F was that??!!!
2) seeing the Robby the Robot from Lost in Space on my dash, flailing his arms, saying, in the most menacing way possible: DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! along with the rainbow of dash lights flashing and screaming if they could.
3)The front wheel shuddering
4) seeing the tire pressure monitor continue to digitally readout from 33 to 23 to 0 in two blinks of an eye
5) safely coasting to a stop on the shoulder
6) curses and resignation and Plan B
7) finding I fortunately had cell service and was able to arrange for a tow to the Yamaha dealer, where a new rear was fitted
and getting back on the road in time to make it to Cooper's BBQ in Llano for one of their pork chops
In the scheme of having this experience befall one, this is best case scenario. It should neither be expected that miracles will occur twice, nor that it couldn't be much worse.
When it comes to angst on the road, we are high tech teapots, able to steep and brew enough angst and paranoia to debauch Pollyanna.
Despite wanting to cross Missouri on backroads, I feel prudence, with each passing mile, making me more and more grown up. I take the shortest distance and that is I 49, and serendipitously it happens to be my old bud: the Jefferson Highway.
I decide for a progress report, a third opinion and head to Engle BMW in Kansas City. They have the STEEPEST driveway I've ever encountered, in fact, I asked them to ride L'il Red back up, for my exit, as there is an immediate turn where the driveway meets the street, the BUSY street.
Anyway...the tech looks at the rear and chuckling, says "it's toast." They have one, and I happen to have $291 to pay for it! But, in these circumstances, convenience demands a premium.
So, after chatting with the guys for an hour or so, I am on my way with fresh rubber on the rear (the front was fine, @ 7500+miles). No more scuffing when I stop.
I continue down the Jefferson Highway--I 49. It's not too bad, but it is an interstate. That's why I choose US 69 across the border in Kansas on the way up.
I stop in Monett, Mo for the evening, likely two days from home.
The next morning I am able to do backroads down through southern Missouri, able to avoid Branson.
Along the way, I traverse little towns and one was Cassville, Mo., and Hey! what's that? Do I turn around, two blocks of thought and the answer is YES!
A Saturday morning local car show in rural Missouri, pulling in people from Missouri and nearby NW Arkansas.
Check out the houndstooth upholstery. Those of a certain age will remember that as stock. You don't see houndstooth anymore, or cloth.
At first I thought it was a Chevy show as there were a lot of these
But other marques were represented--like the Cobra. What I realize now is that many times on these rides, I'll pass through a town, and I question whether to stop. After all it's not on the "agenda" as fluid as that is, and I have to be here then, no, I really don't...too many words to say, my advice is stop; these are things that make a trip memorable as much as anything planned. As Art Bell, on Paranoia Radio, the home of late night conspiracy theorists, often says: there are no coincidences. BTW, I usually do not wear foil under my helmet, but sometimes think it's a good idea, you know, just for protection from the Rigellian Reptilian Mind control. Laugh at your own risk...jus' sayin'...ok?
Bel-Air in Dreamsicle
and a dreamy Biscayne
These cars were pre Impala,
but only by a couple of years.
oh, yeah...the hand grenade shifter is a really nice touch
My first car was a '62 red Impala coupe. I had Moon Eyes decals on the back windows--that was the ONLY Moon accessory. I also changed the trim piece in the front from a "V" to the Chevy V with "crossed flags," indicating I had a 327 rather than a 283. Oh, and I had dual exhausts, with one "glass-pack" and one "steel pack" muffler. It sounded great, but this emperor had no clothes...total pretense. But at 17, pretense is often as good as the real thing, right?
And what I considered the class of the show..a 1957 T'Bird in an original color, a dark metallic grey. That's the owner in the windscreen. She told me that this was an original color and they only made 400 like this. It was gorgeous.
and again done in by the 15 image police..continued below