Motorcycle riding weekend

Ten days ago the weather-guessers started raving about the perfect stretch of weather that was ahead.  They forecast days of lovely autumn weather with not a cloud in the sky.  I took this as a sign, and started trying to talk Cliff into a motorcycle trip to St. Louis, where his sister and her husband live.  
"It's the cheapest place we can ride," I'd tell him.  "All we have to do is buy gasoline for the bike and maybe eat out a time or two; we get free room and board."
Cliff would watch the forecast on TV and say, "Sixty degrees for a high?  That's pretty cool for riding."  
I'd answer, "But it'll be sunny!  When the sun is shining, it feels ten degrees warmer."  
"But the leaves haven't changed color," he pointed out.  "Why not wait until the fall colors arrive?"  
"Yeah, and if we do that, it's liable to turn cold and nasty and rain every weekend, and we will have missed our chance."  
I reminded him of the long winter we suffered through last year, when the Honda sat idle for months.
So Friday we headed out, pulling the trailer behind us.  We took back roads all the way, which makes for a longer trip, but a scenic one.

  We passed through Tipton and gawked at the eight-ball water tower that April mentioned in her blog.  "Painted to resemble an 8-ball in 1968 by the Fischer Manufacturing Co., a pool table company. It was painted over when the company moved out, but has recently been repainted back."

We went through Jefferson City and gawked at the dome of the State Capitol building.  

Cliff's sister was at work, but her husband, Pat, met us somewhere past the halfway mark and led the way into St. Louis.  We really appreciated this, because he knows the best and safest ways to navigate into that metropolis at rush hour; the freeways are a madhouse.  Without Pat, we would have had to rely on the GPS, which would have had us in the thick of traffic quite a bit.  When you're on a motorcycle, there's an uneasy, vulnerable feeling, sitting in the midst of a sea of commuters.    

The Missouri River is wider at St. Louis, since that's where it meets the mighty Mississippi.  

Pat led us through the wine country south of St. Louis; the scenery there rivals any you'll find in the United States.  

Seems like we crossed the Missouri River several times on our way to our destination.
Friday was a perfect day for a motorcycle ride, with not a cloud in the sky and no wind blowing.  For once, the weather-guessers got it right.  little did we know that Saturday held a surprise for us.