Last Leg Of The Ride
One of a number of very hot motorcycles at the St. Francis Motorcycle Museum.
From McCook, Nebraska, on to Denver was the last leg of our Great River Road ride. It’s about 260 miles and most of the folks were just ready to get home.
There was some discussion of stopping in St. Francis, Kansas, at the St. Francis Motorcycle Museum. It was right on our route and I for one had never been there, though I had heard about it and was interested.
Not gonna happen, was what Tom said. He pointed out that we had on several occasions on this trip discussed stopping at various points of interest but nothing ever came of it. For instance, we had discussed spending some time in Hannibal, Missouri, visiting sites related to Mark Twain. Didn’t happen. Stopping along the Mississippi River at a dam and lock to see the lock in action. Didn’t happen. There may have been others, I don’t remember.
Then someone else pointed out that as early as we were hitting the road, by the time we reached St. Francis the museum would not yet be open. So that was settled, presumably.
We left our motel singly and in groups with the idea to stop at the nearby gas station and fill up. Pulling out from the motel there were two exits and while one had a free shot to go left on the road, the other required you to do a U-turn around the median. I ran over to the straight shot exit but Roy went out the other. Then, as I got ready to pull out after he made the U-turn, he went into the turn and dropped the bike right onto the very end of the median structure. Oh crap.
I quickly shifted to neutral and put the side stand down and ran out to offer assistance. Roy was unhurt, and the bike was undamaged so we got him back upright and he took off, with me close behind. So that was the fourth time on this trip that someone had had a mishap. We’re not doing so good here guys.
We got gas and headed out. Nothing much in the way of scenery along here, this is just Kansas and Nebraska.
But by the time we got to St. Francis, about 87 miles, I was ready to take a break. Plus, I wanted to at least check out the museum as much as I could even if it wasn’t open. So when I saw a sign pointing to downtown announcing the museum I waved toodle-oo to the group and turned.
From what I hear, their ride on home was uneventful, although Roy told me that he got home, moved his car out of the garage so he could get his bike in, and the coil on the bike failed. Right there at home. The most convenient inconvenience you can ask for.
I pulled up in front of the museum and parked, noticing the “Closed” sign on the door. I took a quick look up and down the street at the town, and when I turned to the museum again there was a guy in the window waving to attract my attention and when he saw that I saw him he took the “Closed” sign and flipped it over to say “Open.” This was Kent.
Kent and Scott are the two guys who mostly run the museum and he told me they always try to accommodate riders who come through and want to see the museum, even outside of regular hours. He pointed out that the sign on the door has their phone numbers so you can call and if they’re able to do so they will come open the place for you. They figure that if you’re traveling and you want to stop it may not always be those regular hours but they want to accommodate you. Nice people. I’ll do my whole next post on the museum.
So I got the break I wanted, used the rest room, saw the museum, and had a nice visit. And then I was ready to ride again.
I’m sure the other guys stopped at least once to get gas on their way home but I was now riding alone. And I made three stops. One was for gas but the other two were because I was getting drowsy and just plain wanted to stretch my legs a bit. This is the way I like to travel.
Altogether, my odometer showed I had ridden 3,150 miles on this trip. On a ten day trip, with one day off from riding, that comes out to exactly 350 miles a day. Sure was nice to have that one day off in the middle of it. And it was nice to be home, too.
Biker Quote for Today
100 reasons not to date a biker: 11. We drive the same way we ride.
Tags: Great River Road ride, motorcycle museums, St. Francis Motorcycle Museum
