When Cliff and I decide to ride the Gold Wing, we often have a conversation like this:
"Where shall we go?"
"I don't care."
"Well, I don't either." And it goes on like this until somebody comes up with a destination.
When we're motorcycle-riding, it really isn't about the destination, it's about the ride; but somehow it helps if we are actually "going someplace". So finally Cliff says, "Let's go to Gerald's."
I have a cousin in Cameron, perhaps sixty miles away. He restores old cars as a hobby, and he has a tractor. This makes him a person of interest to Cliff, and we've used his place as a destination several times. Trouble is, we've traveled the same road so much getting there, it's old hat by now.
I got out the map and found some roads we've never ridden, and we were off... taking the long way around.
We stopped to eat our picnic lunch at the city park in Holt, Missouri...
right across from the American Legion hall.
It's a nice little park for a town whose population is barely over 400, and whose main claim to fame is a record rainfall they got in 1947.
I was putting stuff back in the trunk of the motorcycle getting ready to go when a middle-aged couple pulled up beside me and handed me this flyer. It appears these teens had run away together.
After a leisurely time in the park, we were off again.
I always try to take at least one barn picture.
I hate seeing all those political signs littering the countryside. I'll be so glad when this mess is over, no matter who wins.
