Cliff's Kansas brother, Don, bought a used Harley motorcycle a couple of years ago; he put a lot of work put into it. It was a good-looking bike.
This was taken when he first got the Harley, before he added a windshield. That bike was NOISY, even for a Harley. Of course, that always seems to be a source of pride for Harley owners. Whatever. Don found out that his hand went to sleep if he traveled far on the bike, and he began wishing he had cruise control. He starting looking for a Honda Gold Wing. He finally found one, a 1988 (I think) 1500. Cliff was dying to see it, so we agreed to meet Don and his wife in Fort Scott, Kansas, and picnic in the park. This would give all of us a two-hour-plus ride, one way.
When I went out to get in the hot tub yesterday morning, it looked as though a beautiful day was brewing. Checking the weather forecast, though, I found out there was a fifty percent chance of rain in our area after noon; not so at Fort Scott, where only clouds were forecast, no rain. I told Cliff, "Fifty percent chance of rain means we have a fifty percent chance it won't rain; let's go ahead."
We gassed up in Bates City, where lots of motorcyclists had gathered for a ride. Blue skies, nothing but blue skies did I see. (I sang that to Cliff as we headed south.)
We took a wrong turn in Kingsville. Cliff chose a shabby-looking blacktop road off this highway and I said, "This looks like the kind of road that will turn to gravel before long." He ignored me.
The road turned to gravel. Cliff found a place to turn around; we looked at a map and got back on course.
Cliff remarked on those huge grain bins. The words on that barn say it's a Hereford farm, but we saw no sign of any cattle; the farm was all planted in soybeans and corn.
We entered Kansas, and Highway 2 turned into Highway 68.
We had agreed to meet Don and Mary at the Walmart in Fort Scott; they beat us by a half-hour or so.
In spite of the fact that Don's 1500 Gold Wing is an older model, it has all the extras and looks almost as if it just came off the showroom floor. Wow! (To my St. Louis sister-in-law: I'm sorry I didn't get a better shot, but Cliff and Don were swarming all over it and this was the best I could do.)
Heading back home, we wondered what those huge smokestacks in the distance were about. Notice the blue skies have a few clouds in them now.
By the time we got past Harrisonville, Missouri, things weren't looking very promising. We were moving right along until we saw police cars with blinking lights ahead, and the traffic stalled.
Oh brother. This was not what we needed. As we sat there waiting to be allowed past the wreck, I felt sprinkles on my face.
As we were allowed to move on, I took this brief video. I know it looks as though night was falling, but it was 4:30 in the afternoon. It's the clouds causing the darkness.
I thought I was taking a video here, but the camera was set for "photo". At this point I put my camera away because it started raining pretty hard. Shortly after this we pulled into a gas station and put on our rain gear; by the time we got all decked out and ready for rain, it slowed to a sprinkle. The rest of the ride home was enjoyable. To make a good day even better, as soon as we got in the house Cliff's sister called and invited us over to eat with her and her son. So I didn't even have to worry about cooking supper!
When Cliff talked to the man in Kansas with several Oliver series 55 tractors, he asked him for his address. Thanks to 911, even very rural homes have genuine addresses that can be typed into a Garmin and found easily. This morning we entered it into the GPS and merrily headed out on what was supposed to be a seventy-six mile trip.
On the way, a motorcycle caught our attention. Something just looks wrong with the biker (or his bike, or the combination of the two) on the right. I wanted to take a picture from beside him, but the traffic was horrible and the speeds were such that we couldn't catch up with him.
At about the time we should have been reaching our destination in the extreme boonies of Kansas, something just didn't seem right; so when we saw a fellow painting some sort of wagon, we stopped and asked. He knew the guy we were looking for, and told us we were on the wrong road.
"You just go up here a piece and turn south..." etc. etc.
Yeah, right.
I made Cliff stop so I could take a picture of this mansion in the middle of nowhere.
Lord only knows where we'd have ended up, but Cliff got a call on his cell: Lee, the farmer we planned on meeting up with, said he had given us the wrong address.
"Oh," I said, "so that's why our GPS didn't recognize that other address."
We typed in the new address and confidently headed on our merry way, already a half-hour behind the originally scheduled arrival time.
That didn't work so well either. Cliff decided to call Lee back, but wouldn't you know, the cell phone had no signal where we were.
When we finally got a signal, Cliff called him and he said, "Let me check dad's address; maybe I got it wrong."
Hmmm, again?
It wasn't the fault of the GPS; this farmer just couldn't get his dad's address right, and hadn't bothered to check and make sure he had given us the right one.
"I never send Dad any mail," he said. "I don't know his address."
Armed with the proper address we drove straight to the eighty-year-old gentleman's door; he was sitting on the back porch waiting for us. We liked him immediately, and decided not to be angry with him for his son's incompetence.
I'll do an entry later telling about the tractors we saw there.
I have always said Donald, Cliff's brother, was a bad influence. So when I saw him luring my husband into getting high, I took a video for proof.
The purpose of the "trip" Cliff took was this: he wanted to see if these lights got hot enough to create a fire hazard; Don gave him a bunch of them... 400 watts, I think they are. Cliff wanted to take no chances of burning down his shop.
Just a note: When I loaded this video to Uncutvideo.com, they wouldn't accept my description; said it was inappropriate language, or some such thing. It took me about five tries before I finally figured out the word "hot" is inappropriate. Sheesh.
It isn't really a junk yard. Some old guy just puts everything he gets his hands on right here on his property. With the price of metal, there's a fortune here, rust and all. (Click on any picture to make it bigger.)
Some Kansas weed/wildflower. I'm sure they're in Missouri too, I just haven't noticed them.
Same ones, not so closeup.
Another kind. And another.
And a simple Kansas landscape. When you're in Kansas, it's no problem to find a scene without power lines or utility poles cluttering things up. And I didn't see any jet vapor trails while I was there, either.
Tell me, my dear husband... what is it you don't like about Kansas?
