Rochester, MN -> Yankton, SD

The morning was gentle. I loaded up the bike and my Airbnb host, Susan, offered me breakfast and a conversation. I'm not one to pass up either of those things. She was curious about my trip, it seems like most everyone is. A motorcycle with California plates in Minnesota is not a common sight. I didn't make it far before my fuel light came on. I pulled off for gas in the town of Austin which is the home of Hormel Foods. They have built a Spam Museum right in the middle of downtown. If it's for free it's for me. No admission fee and I wandered around a corny display of all things Spam. There was a motorcycle related highlight. Someone took a Track T800CDI, a short-lived shaftie CVT diesel motorcycle, and made it 'run on bacon'. I have no idea why it was there. Other highlight came from the gift shop such as a 'not all hogs make it to Sturgis' shirt and the argyle Spam socks currently on my feet.

This little piggy did not make it to Sturgis

I continued along the interstate until the quest for lunch brought me to The Softail in Iowa. I talked to the barkeep who was working in downtown Los Angeles at a hotel bar when the pandemic hit. She is happy to be back home. My route took me through an endless sea of cornfields (boring) and feedlots (horrifying to smell). I cannot emphasize enough just how bad the feedlots were. I was smelling some that were as far as a half mile off the road. The smell lingers in the helmet and itches the throat. Disgusting. A little while longer and my fuel light came on again. I stopped at a gas station. They didn't sell 91 octane gas. No bother, a little while longer and I stopped at another. No 91. I went another fifteen miles to the interstate and on the fourth try I managed to get my fix. All of these stations did sell gasoline without ethanol. Ironic that a state of corn growers won't burn it in their trucks.

I pulled into Yankton a little before six and enjoyed a bath in my hotel room's tub. The warm water is great on a well-worn back. I crept back out for a bite and a drink. Off to The Ice House. A fun local dive. Nobody was inside except for the barkeep. I hesitate to call her a bartender because there was, in fact, no bar. Tell her what kind of beer you want, she asks you for three bucks, you hand her cash, she hands you a bottle out of the cold case. I ordered a sandwich from the restaurant across the street. How can a bar be fun when there is nobody in it? At The Icehouse people sit on the old loading dock outside. When you are done with your drink, you shatter the bottle underneath. I struck up a conversation with some locals which was punctuated by the crashing of other people's empties. They reminded me to go to Sturgis. I cannot believe that I got to South Dakota and forgot about Sturgis. It is a small town which swells for an annual motorcycle (primarily Harley) festival. Turns out it's on the route for tomorrow. Very exciting. Another day with a lot of ground to cover and lots of corn to see. Apparently it will get pretty again soon.

I didn't break it on the first try

Today's Distance: 316 Miles

Total Distance: 5965 Miles