ARKansas - June 2015

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Day 1: Chicago, IL to St. Charles, MO.

"If you ever plan to motor west,
Travel my way, take the highway, that's the best.
Get your kicks on Route 66."- From Bobby Troup's song "Route 66"


13 June 2016
08:00

Bikes checked and loaded. Rider's meeting completed.



Happily-faced, pre-tour group photo taken. (L-R: Laura, Glen, Bumpstart Mike, Petoskey Mike, Judy, MTC, Cheryl)


After a fairly mild and calm May, Illinois was in the middle of what would prove to be the wettest June in its recorded history. Thunderstorms were firing up on almost a daily basis and Saturday's forecast was for more of the same...warm with a chance of storms. Any check of a weather app (and these would be frequent over the course of this trip) would have shown the same forecast at any point along our route. The optimists among us, and anyone who ventures forth on two wheels in a four-wheeled world is an optimist at heart, focused on the 70% chance of dry rather than the 30% chance of wet. Besides, it had rained hard overnight so maybe the 30% had already been wrung out. It was clear at start time so rain gear was stowed and we headed out on the 302 mile first day.

Glen and Laura had planned the first day to roll us quickly down and across Illinois and just past St. Louis to St. Charles, Missouri -- I-55 to I-70. For those unfamiliar with riding these interstates from Chicago to St. Louis, imagine being a bowling ball rolling down a very long, very straight, and very flat lane with the slightest of a back-up hook to it at the very end. I-55 has only two things going for it, it gets you downstate fast and it roughly parallels (or overlays) the long since decommissioned and now historic Route 66. Fortunately, all three of our longer stops in Illinois would land us on historic sections of "The Mother Road".

I often wind up being the ride leader for our groups' shorter day rides and Cheryl had pointed out to me that I may have become a bit over zealous in that role, particularly when it came to my expressive gesticulations of dissatisfaction directed toward inconsiderate or inattentive motorists which we all encounter from time to time. Better to handle these encounters with quiet dignity and grace.

In our pre-ride meeting for this trip, it was decided that we would all adopt this "ignore and ride on" technique. Glen, who would be our ride leader most days is as calm and collected under pressure as anyone I have ever met, so it would be easy to follow his example with him setting the tone from the front of the pack. I'm more of the hothead of our group, so riding "sweep" would give me a second to see, process, and temper my reaction to any missteps on the part of our four-wheeled fellow travelers. We agreed to wait until stopping points to vent about situations we saw along the way and this would tend to make our trip more relaxed and possibly safer as well.

The entrance to I-55 South is a 20 minute ride down I-294 from our home. We smoothly swung off one super-slab, navigated the I-Pass toll lane, and merged into the right lane of I-55 South. Within a mile of this interchange is an exit ramp on the right. Cheryl was riding in the 3-spot (left third of the lane) when the driver in the middle lane realized his exit was approaching and that, rather than dropping behind us, it was a better option to cleave his way through our column between the 3 and 4 spots or, more correctly, directly through the 3-spot. Fortunately, Cheryl is an excellent rider and acutely aware of her surroundings at all times. I watched from my rearmost position in line as she deftly slid her bike to the right third of her lane while hitting her horn to alert the driver of his faux pas. The driver apparently came to something resembling his senses, returned to the center lane, and slowed his vehicle to pass behind us. It was then when the fingers went up...one at a time and in perfectly scynchronized sequence from front to back, starting with Petoskey Mike, then Bump-start Mike, and even (at least as I recall it) his sweet, quiet passenger Judy, then of course me. Once the car and my anger had exited, I began laughing harder than I had ever laughed before in a motorcycle helmet....so much for quiet dignity and grace!

(end of part 2a)