It is always an adventure.

Today we were supposed to get thunderstorms but looking at the radar I decided at best some rain.  My plan was to take my old 1966 FLH out to stretch her legs.  You know one of those 120 miles only stop once for gas and try to hit as many sweeps as I can rides.   Wooly still gets tired easier then he use to from all the cancer treatments but he still hangs with me on small day rides he just usually has to stop more often.  So when he said lets ride to Cassidy I was surprised and concern that the 300  to 400 mile day would be a little bit to much for him.   After him being insistent it was pull the Indian out and off we go, first stop was for me to get gas as I was on low fuel.  Wooly decided he could make the 126  mile trip and off we go to haul ass down the highway.
 
For anyone who reads this Cassidy is a breakfast run and usually done by noon 1 pm at the latest.  It is the first Sunday of every month in riding season.  Around  here they call riding season March through October.     So leaving the house at  almost 11 I knew we were not going to make the breakfast but instead would be grabbing lunch at the Hays House in Council Grove Kansas on our more scenic  route home.  The Hays House  is the place us and our friends usually stop and eat  lunch at besides vending food is really not what I like nor care to eat.

 Anyway we were running south down interstate 35 and we were hitting the throttle hard.
When  Wooly did not stop in Emporia Kansas to fuel I was taking back as that is almost always a must do fuel stop to make it to our destination.  Next gas is Cassidy 41   miles down the road.   Everything was fine till  he started for the slow lane, my first thought was YEA he has finally learned you never stay in the fast lane all the time, especially if you are not the fastest moving thing on the road.    But nope he was running out of gas, I seen him dipping his bike deep trying to splash some gas down the throat to fire her back up.  This  stunt worked twice and he got a little father south on the toll way but not far enough.  So I get to play the hero and ride the rest the miles to the gas station.   Buy a gas container and then go get a gallon of gas.  That was the most expensive gallon of gas, total $28.   After purchasing the gas I loaded it up on my  luggage rack on the back  of my Indian and slightly whispered to myself I hope I put my cargo net in the saddle bag.    I opened up the saddle bag and bingo there it was.

My next problem was now I got to get back to Wooly.  I cannot go the proper flow of traffic as there is no way to cross over to where he was.  There is solid concrete barriers all the way.  So what is a girl hero to do, ride the wrong direction down the emergency shoulder till I get back to him.  Let me tell you some of the looks I was getting was priceless,  strangers that saw this may still be talking about  what they say going down the interstate that day.

So gas in the tank I do a 360 on a toll road and off we go in the right direction to the gas station to fill up both bikes take a quick  pee break and off we go again for the 6 miles on the road before we exit the tollway.  At the toll stop Wooly and I are side by side when this very aggressive voice from no where starts ordering me around.  "You in the blue {I had on one of my Motor Maid shirts} back up your bike and you will go through one at a time". My first thought was DUH! But  I tell the voice that my mom has my ticket and my money and that I Will go through first not second, mom  sticks my ticket in and then my money, gate opens and off I go to the other side of the gate.  Then it comes Wooly's turn and same routine but when he goes to start his bike it would not start.  So I pull over to the emergency shoulder and run back to help him push his bike off the road way.  It took mom and I three times but we finally bump started the damn thing and off we go.  We think that the drain of running emergency light sitting on the  side of the toll way may have been to much drain for the bike and wondered how long the battery was in that bike.  (We still are looking for the receipt  but I think it is time to get another one.)

Anyway by the time we slow roll through the one block of Cassidy it is after 1 and most everyone is gone and the venders are starting to clean up.  We decide that we should head to Council Grove and grab some lunch, so without stopping we take off  up  highway 177 ( A scenic byway) to lunch.   We arrive in Council Grove  around 2 pm and park our bikes and go into the Hays house for lunch.  By this time I am hungry, really hungry.   We enjoy a nice lunch and when parting Wooly says lets B line home.  So instead of taking 177 north to 4 a fun survey scenic ride we head dead east on old 56.  A straight shot home.

 The  ride  home was boring for the most part but about 50 miles from home we roll up on 4 bikes.  Now following them just a little bit   it was obvious that they had been drinking.  They would speed up then slow  way down, hell they were not even doing the speed limit.  They were all over the lanes weaving around and then they were playing some weird game of hopscotch on bikes.  Anyway I did not want tangled up with this kind of riding so I signaled for  Wooly to get around them.  I was doing 90 when I passed the lead bike  and did not slow down till I could not see them in the side view mirror.  I keep thinking  A: I did not want involved in what could happen with such careless riding and B: I  did not want to be any where near these people if the cops seen this.  Anyway we made it home safe, Wooly did not tire out as he had been doing since the cancer treatments.  Which I am grateful for as I really do miss my  favorite riding buddy.