After the very long night of watching the thunderstorm, I awoke extremely tired but ready for the day ahead. I decided tonight was a night for a nice hotel. Before leaving, I reserved a room in Branson, MO. I plugged the coordinates into my GPS and set off. Quickly pulling into the next town, I filled up with gas and grabbed another Cliff bar and a Gatorade. Yet  Another quick breakfast and I was back on the road.

Not before even getting back to the highway, problems started occurring. Immediately  I noticed my tachometer cable had snapped and the gauge wasn’t working. Soon after that I stalled the engine. I tried starting it up while still rolling but it wouldn’t catch. Pulling over to the side of the road, I tried starting it again. Nothing. I pulled the side covers off the bike to expose the electrics. Fuses were not blown. I checked the relay to the ignition coils and it was still working. Still not starting, I sat next to  my bike wondering if my trip was over. After five minutes I tried restarting it, and it fired up. It rumbled to life like nothing was wrong. Baffled, I didn’t second guess it and took off down the road hoping to get closer to my destination before breaking down again. This problem would plague me for the rest of my trip, I would never figure it out until after my trip that a contact on my relay had become corroded and caused the ignition coils to not power up like designed.

My motorcycle roared down the road. I was having to shift by feel since my tachometer was broken. I quickly found myself in Oklahoma City. Filling my tank once more and using the bathroom, I found myself in the same situation as an hour before. It would not start. I tried the same technique as before. Wait, and then try. I did and nothing. I thought my trip was over. After a good half hour I jiggled some wires and it started right up. It was only 10am and it already felt so long. I got out of OKC as fast as I could. I was behind schedule and the anxiety caused by my bike was setting in. It would be a long day.

I got through OKC and found myself on a toll road to Tulsa. This angered me. I hate toll roads. I didn’t know how much cash I had on me. I had no clue how much it was and I could not get off without paying. One good thing about toll roads is that they will have rest areas in the middle between the two roads. The “rest areas” are magnificent. Rest areas where I’m from are places you do not go unless you are a serial killer or you really have to pee. These rest areas usually have a gas station, a convenient store, and some sort of fast food. And they do not require you to pay your toll because you aren’t leaving the highway. I pulled into this rest area, fine on gas but hungry and I needed a rest after the morning I had.

Quickly eating and starting a new 3 hour long podcast, I fiddled with my bike and got it to finally start and set off. The toll booth came into sight. I reached the end of the toll road. I waited in line and when it came my turn, I had to remove everything to get to my wallet. Take off my gloves, unzip my jacket, find my wallet and all that. Before I reached my wallet, the lady in the car behind me ran up to the toll booth and paid for both of us. I was shocked and thankful because all I had was a $50 bill which they wouldn’t take. I pulled my gloves back on and set off.

Not before i even got 100 yards away from the toll booth, my bike shut off. All the light went out and the engine stopped. I knew right away the main fuse blew. I pulled to the side of the road once again. Semi’s blew by me. I yanked the side cover off to expose the fuse box. The old style glass tube fuse had blown. I searched my gear for my spare set of fuses and put a new one in. I turned the key on and all the lights were on. No start though. I was still having the no start problem. It was hot out now. I pulled off one of my jackets and layed in the grass for a few minutes. It started right up five minutes later. I jumped back on and sped down the road. Every time I stopped, I always thought that this was the farthest I’d make it. That the bike wouldn’t start again. But it would always never fail me and eventually get going again. It was an inconvenience, but I would take it over being stranded in Nowhereville, Oklahoma.

I was running low on fuses so I pulled off in the next town to pick up some more. The sun was beating down. I loved it. It was such a beautiful day. Soaring down the road was such a freeing feeling. At gas stations people would see my Oregon plate and ask me where I was going. Many people commented on my bike and how they loved it. Many were amazed I was doing such a huge trip on such an old bike. I would go anywhere on this bike.

It was about 2pm now and the GPS took me  off the interstate. I was overjoyed for this. I wanted the back roads and that’s where it took me. I stumbled through all these po-dunk mid western towns. It was incredible. They didn’t have any tourist attraction but this is where Id rather be. This was real. The back roads of Oklahoma were flat, hot, and straight. I was flying down the road. I had no clue what the speed limit was but I had only seen two police officers my entire trip so far. One in Oregon and one in Idaho. I went through small town after small town. Finally I pulled into my final gas station for the day. Filled up, waited for the bike to be ready to start again, and set off once it was.

This place fascinated me. It had to be one of the few places where you could see a 1972 Camaro, worth $500 but have over $10k in the engine. Just the engine. The kid driving it looked to be 17 or so. The cars exterior was white and beat up. But he filled it  up with gas and started her up and the incredible deep, throaty sound that engine made was astonishing. It sounded like a NASCAR engine under the hood. I just had a feeling that, that kid built that engine in a shed. And it made me smile a little. Damn impressive I thought. Only in Oklahoma.

I soon entered Missouri and the Ozark Mountains. The road traversed hills, and twisted and turned. I was having a blast. The view was another sight to see. I would reach the top of a hill and be able to look out over the forest of trees. The fall colors set in the leaves as far as the eye could see. I was more interested in the road. It was the best road I had ever been on. One stretch of the road was completely straight. But it had about 7 humps in it. Each hump about 10 yards high. It was like a roller coaster ride. Going down a hump I would get on the throttle and at the bottom you could feel the bike sink towards the ground. Going over the next hump, at the top, you would feel the bike get start to lift. It was almost like motocross except a much heavier bike and pavement. I had been on some incredible roads in the Pacific Northwest, but this had to be the best. Highway 14 along the Columbia River Gorge, Highway 101 along the Oregon Coast, and all the little side roads through the forests had nothing on this road. My bike handled each turn and powered down the straight sections. It was my own little race track. If only you could’ve seen the grin inside my helmet.

The road continued to twist and turn. The sun had started to set and I was closing in on my hotel. I quickly realized that my headlight wasn’t working. And it was getting dark. This caused me to start to panic and the road no longer was fun. The road seemed to never end. My GPS said I was 7 miles away but it was like being on a treadmill. It felt like i wasn’t gaining any ground on my destination and the sun seemed to be setting quicker and quicker. I finally pulled over to see where i was. I went to set my bike on the kick stand and completely missed, dropping the bike. I rushed to pick it up. Frustration set in. The sun was almost gone and I wasn’t even to Branson, MO. I was so exhausted from not having slept from the nigh before in Oklahoma. And now the bike wouldn’t start. I had pulled into a parking lot that was on a hill. It wasnt starting and I needed to be moving. I said fuck it and rolled down the hill and popped the clutch. There was a loud back fire and the bike roared to life. I got on the throttle and sped once more down the road. Branson finally came into view and the sun had set. Street lights led my way and I was at my hotel.

I checked in and ordered pizza. I relaxed, showered, and ate. I had gotten over the frustration and quickly fell asleep. I didn’t like not sleeping next to my bike. I was so afraid something would happen to it. Without, I was stuck. I worried about it at every hotel I stayed at. So exhausted, I fell asleep in the big king size bed and worried no more.