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.
Autumn and winter always send me into fits of remembering years gone by, back when I was a child and times were simple. There were no worries, because when you're a kid, you are taken care of. Even if I was sick, I knew my mamma could make me well.
We were dirt-poor, but my parents managed to do a lot of fun things with me; looking back, I'm pretty sure most of those fun things were done 100% for my sake, but at the time I thought they were having as much fun as I was. I imagine their fun came from watching me enjoy life.
There was our annual trip to the Iowa State Fair in Des Moines. We'd borrow a big tarp from a local farmer, and somehow my parents would fashion a tent from it, with our car making up the back wall. Mother made a camp stove out of a coffee can with sand in it: She''d put a thimble-full of gasoline in there and that was enough heat to make a pot of coffee. Sounds crazy, but Mother told me in later years that's how it worked.
Daddy never cared for movies, so he'd stay home to tend to the switchboard and Mother would take me to the movies: Abbott and Costello, Ma and Pa Kettle, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. We went to see "Singing in the Rain" one time, but it bored me silly. I liked the funny movies.
There was a rodeo at Sidney, Iowa, I remember attending; I loved the rodeo clowns best of all. One time a bronc rider was badly hurt at the rodeo, and later died. For years afterward I remembered his name, but it finally faded into oblivion.
I never had a babysitter in my life. Where my parents went, I also went. I remember canasta parties where card tables were set up all over the place in various homes; there was always lots of laughing and chit-chat at those functions, and usually some tasty snacks. Other kids and I would amuse ourselves in whatever way we could, trying to stay out from underfoot.
There were occasional circuses and small-town carnivals.
I've really had a wonderful life; I have my parents to thank for a great childhood that started me out on the right track.
