By Spitfire
Many riders were up before dawn. Last minute preparations were being made on bikes for the 247 mile ride from Bloomington, Indiana to Cape Girardeau, MO. The sun was shining and many locals were starting to arrive to look at the bikes and cheer the riders on. The riders were eager to get going across the flat terrain. 300-900 ft elevations. Today, only 67 motorcycles started. Some are still being worked on while others are unable to go on. #34, Peter Reeves from the UK broke down just ½ mile from the hotel. He was obviously frustrated and near enough to get help so I continued on.
Today we have many riders who have joined us at “Tag alongs”. Only riders and Support Staff receive directions each day and even then we don’t get them until the night before. Because the route is not public, other riders try to find someone to follow. Today that was particularly the case and larger groups of riders were following making it hard for staff to get around them and stop quickly to help riders. I had just gotten around one larger group when I saw #62 pulled over at mile marker 18. I was getting to know Scott Blaylock from Canada since he was riding a 1910 Indian and it didn’t have the power to get up the larger hills. It was not uncommon to see him pushing the bike or on the mountain passes of the Appalachian and Allegany Mtns. Today the bike just couldn’t take it anymore and the lower end gave out. Scott was disappointed and so was I. He said he was here with a team and would join them as support but the months of preparation and money spent on this gem of a motorcycle ended in disappointment. For many it is not as much about winning the trophy as it is about riding their bikes from Coast to Coast. See you tonight Scott!
Every time I see a gas station I look to see if there are old bikes. There are certain stations that seem to attract larger crowds. Gas stops are some of my favorites. It’s fun to see the reactions of the locals as they realize something is going on. In small rural towns the news spreads like wild fire. In one little town I saw a local police officer who just couldn’t get enough. Taking picture, chatting with the riders and I kept hearing him say, ”I ride a motorcycle”! At the next larger stop in Mt. Carmel, I was greeted by local press, Haley, as I got off my bike. We were at Jumpin’ Jimmy’s. One of the locals went home to get some saddle bags and was trying to sell them to the riders. “Where do you find this many old bikes?” one person exclaimed both bewildered and amazed.
It seems each day has its challenges, something the riders talk about all evening. Today was no exception. As we were on an obscure road in some fields of corn, Doug Wothke suddenly turned Rt. Other riders had turned around and were coming back toward me. I said, “Doug turned into that corn field”. I swung around and we all went back to find it was a turn we had missed that would lead us to a harrowing bridge that took us across the Wabash River. The narrow patched boards that lined either side of the one lane bridge were wet and slippery. Some were loose and the tires of the bike weaved back and forth. Falling off of the boards in the middle area would not result in falling through to the river but it would be hard to get back up to the boards again and there was moss growing in the middle so it would be even more slippery. The reactions to this experience were varied but most agreed that it sucked!. To add to the insult there was a toll booth on the other side where they charged $1.
The rest of the afternoon was uneventful other than rain and wind on the way into Cape Girardeau. The town made the Cannonball a community event and had a DJ, vendors and Bike/Car show. The Cannonball bikes were lined up by the painted breakwall and families came with children in strollers. The town hosted a nice dinner at Port Cape Restaurant for the Cannonball Riders, Staff and Crew. Tired and happy riders returned to the hotels to work on bikes. Tomorrow’s another day!
