Day 3

5:30 AM came early, the inevitable result of two days of riding, but it wasn't as bad as either of us feared, and time and ride wait for no man. The breakfast was better than the dinner the night before, but neither of them held a candle to the sunrise over the Ohio River. We wiped the worst of the dew off the steeds and powered west to beat the brewing storm front rising out of Texas three days hence. It was cold - the coldest we've felt yet, and we stopped to cinch the straps and collars before turning south. We both considered ourselves lucky to make it out of Ohio without developing a habit for Mail Pouch Tobacco, an Ohio barn curiosity you'll have to research on your own... Happy to put the smell of burning tires behind us we ducked onto the Ohio River Scenic Byway for just a second, then over the bridge into the rolling hills and horse farms of Kentucky. We made good time until noon, pulling over at the Centerville Market, a map dot crossroads country store that any Mainer would recognize if they were alive in the 70's. We'd made good time all morning, covering as much ground as we did the day before in the rain, but it was at that moment, jockeying for position in the crowded parking lot that it happened. I knew better. I thought better of it. As I reached for it I was filled with a bit of reservation. And then oops. I did it again. I pushed the reverse button. That button. The one that stranded me on the main street of Lake Placid two months ago, and blocked the street for a half hour while two tow trucks loaded my bike and took it away for a little R&R of the wrong kind. With a click, the reverse light started blinking, and the rest of our day was gone in a blur of phone calls, insurance company apologies, tow truck operators, and helpful yet hapless powersports attendants. Another ride of shame, somewhat vindicated that it wasn't just a blown fuse the last time it happened, but still feeling the loss of a glorious afternoon of riding through those hills and farms, even if straining at the antiquated statewide speed limit of 55 mph. More than once I noticed the double-take of motorists coming out of cross streets, looking at my traffic-cone-colored jacket. Good. Every one that sees me is one more that doesn't cut me off. Look like a tool for 8,000 miles but make it home safe? Challenge accepted. 



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