IV. The Midwest

The roads would start to make sense near Clear Lake, Iowa. I had really been driving all day and night, and finally found where I needed to be. Not that I had any worries about it. As the tall grasses turned to corn, I found myself at peace with the road. It was like the first time in my life I felt stress melt away, the only thing I was thinking about was rural Iowa.

I’d find myself at a crossroads in Manly, Iowa. To the north was more of the same, Rural corn fields with windmills in the distance. Empty roads, but large industrial farm buildings dotting the horizon. This is where the corn was made. They don’t fuck around in Iowa when it comes to farming. The the east, was a more ecologically diverse, secluded route along several streams and forests. I went east, It was a Highway I would never forget.

Highway nine east, across Iowa. It changed me for the better. There wasn’t any sights to see, there wasn’t attractions lining the road. It was just a quiet road through the countryside. I loved every minute, I just kept going. No cigarette breaks, no stopping to fiddle with my ipod. During a stop at a gas station, I sped up the small talk I was making with another motorcyclist because I was just so ready to hit the road again. The overcast day welcomed my entirety, and life I had led up until that point seemed to evaporate.

I think it was the change of scenery. I used to goof off driving on the plains. It was nothing to me, I love magpies and brown grass. It was cool of course to be across Kansas, but it didn’t feel like I had made it anywhere that far. When the plains changed to prairie, then prairie to farmland, I had felt that I had really put some pavement behind me. The miles were rolling by, I had not care in the world. Uninterrupted Motor scooter travel is something quite untouchable on the spectrum of fun.

The Midwest is also where I would call home at that time. I had old friends waiting for me, Familiarity with the region, tones of home. At this point none of those friends had heard from me since i had left, So I should probably touch base with them as I was getting closer. I had to turn on my cell phone again. In a Culver’s parking lot, I called the friend I had planned to stay with. An old friend, elementary school kinda old. We kept in touch, it was easy with him because our friendship was mostly based around computer games.

“Hey man, I’m feeling pretty good, Im in Decorah, Iowa I think thats pretty close to La Crosse…”

He assured me he’d be awake if I showed up late. I contemplated the fast food chain I hadn’t seen in years, but voted to hit the road. While I told myself I was close, the sun was setting, at best I was more than a few hours away.

The darkness showed up really early. The roads slowly cleared out and the road ahead of me present a decent. A warning sign to trucks about the change of grade told me this would be the steepest Hill I had encountered. My brain telling me that the change in elevation will boost my scooters performance to a new level, and that I will go fast enough to trigger the time machine, that i will somehow traverse a whole day’s worth of distance in this alignment of the planets and gods. With only candles left in the sky, I made myself compact, hunched as low as I could go. The shadowy slope sucked me into a plummet the likes of which no scooter has ever seen. The speedometer was maxed out at the beginning, the slope only getting steeper. I was in my head now, I had to focus on what I was doing. If I had made a mistake, I could get hurt. The bike was so relaxing before, reliable, but not really something you try to perform on. I slid into this, as everything got faster, I focused only on myself and the road in front of me as to not disturb my luck. The speed increases, the bike slowly starts the vibrate. It was operating at a frequency it was ill prepared for, and the noises it made sounded as if it would melt at any second. Screaming down the hill, a presence would make itself known. Something ahead of me, something familiar, but big. I couldn’t really stop to gain awareness, nor could I see that far in front of me. A streetlight at the bottom of the hill was like a finish line, It was visible far off with something very fitting placed next to it. An electronic speed trap, I assume positioned to ward off anyone wanting to blast through the village at the bottom of the hill, but was a sign to me that I can go a little faster.

I probably had gone faster on the bike in the coming years, but the sign read 49 mph and then switched to 50 just as I was approaching it. The speedometer on the bike doesn’t go passed 45. It took everything we both had to go 50 mph. Nobody died. I pulled over, I definitely smoked but I remember checking all the hardware I could find on the bike out of fear that some of it had vibrated out. Nothing missing, I bombed a hill on a scooter loaded down with gear. Getting ready to press on, It was now clear what I was driving towards. The Mississippi river.

Following the coast of Iowa north, I enjoyed a starry night on the river. My back was starting to hurt, and I need to use my gas can, but It was pretty steady along the road. Flat and winding with the river, the distance was far but the hours faded into the yellow lines as it felt so good to be getting to where I was going.

I loomed over it for a while. Growing up in the midwest you have an appreciation for an industrialized river, The Great Mississippi was the premier example. I really had driven far, This river used to be a significant landmark in my life. Traveling with my family as a kid It was always of note to cross the river. We seemed to live near it frequently, a sign that I would soon be home in my own bed. This time it was a little different, the tones of home still there, It was more of a moment of accomplishment. I didn’t feel that way at first, but As the bridge in La Crescent, MN that crossed into wisconsin came closer I felt butterflies in my chest.

Riding into La Crosse, WI there was no parade. There was no celebration, not for me anyway, there are drunks around sometimes in La Crosse and that night was no exception. I still had some more to go. I knew this town, but it was not the one i was headed to. Everyone seems to live in a small town outside of a major city in the midwest, not actually in the city. I had to press on, only a few more miles. I stopped at a Kwik trip, one of the best gas station chains in the country, I flirted with a transwoman and bought a chicken sandwich. I was glad the night was still warm despite the time.

Riding towards my hometown I felt such relief, I was worried I wouldn’t make it. But on the contrary, I had a blast, the issues were minimal, and I had made such good time. The night was clear warm. I felt pride that day, warranted or not. I had made it, and it felt good for a fuckup to accomplish something for once. The weight off my shoulders was that of being glad to not have screwed myself over.

Id ride quietly to my friend’s house. careful to not wake anyone, I set up my tent in the front yard. I had to lay down and decompress, my back hurt.