Day 86 Cedar Rapids, Iowa to Peoria, Illinois 235 miles
"A thousand words will not leave so deep an impression as one deed."
Heat. We launched at 9 with a temperature of ninety. It hovered there all day until two o'clock, when the skies cleared and the sun seared the landscape. However, after only twenty-five miles, we escaped into the National Motorcycle Museum in Anamosa, Iowa.
Who would have thought?
The place rocked with bikes, memorabilia and videos throughout the building, which looked like a grocery store from the front but acted like a museum inside.
I'll devote a few specific blogs to the bikes to avoid putting the non-biker followers into a coma. Suffice it to say, every square foot of floor space was filled with bikes and more bikes. QG didn't complain about my dawdling and ogling the bikes, as the air conditioners blew cool refreshing air into her space.
Back on the scooter, it's eleven a.m. and time to ride. We headed East and North on the blue highways, farmland to every horizon. I don't know if it's because of the time or the geography, but the corn shows signs of dying. Yellow stalks cover higher ground where less water permeates. Others look distressed, like if something good doesn't happen soon, it will join the high ground as casualties. People say they need three good days of rain (one won't soak into the parched earth) and every day that passes, the rain would be too late. I pondered in earlier blogs about how rewarding it must be to be a farmer and watch the brown soil turn green, then grow into six plus feet corn. Yet how distressing to see a thousand acres of hard work and money dry up and die. The farmers say they must combine it to get the fields back in shape for another crop, throwing good money after bad.
The soybeans seem to be just fine, apparently needing less moisture and the fields lay green and vibrant.
We stopped for fuel at two and I looked to the sky. Remembering yesterday, I thought it might clear up and get hot. Sure enough, minutes later Mr. Sun made a full appearance and we rode onward, not a city to be seen until Peoria. Around four we rolled into town. Stopped at a light, a man in a Ford Ranger yelled out his window, "Hey do you have time for a television interview?"
"Uh, sure." Why not? We followed him to a hospital and parked in the shade. Lee informed us he wasn't a TV guy, but he knew one. He made a call, and what do you know? Barring any real news, we'll do an interview in the morning. Hopefully, I can put a link on the website or YouTube it.
Funny what the wrap on the Gold Wing and trailer does to generate interest.
We took off, headed for a Super 8 Motel. I checked the temp. 104. Youch. That's enough to kill a lot of corn, let alone melt Quilter Girl. We checked in and turned the a/c to 'ice age' and ordered Italian food, delivered.