It’s a little cold in Limon, CO this morning. I made the mistake of loading the bike in shorts, sandals and a t-shirt. They found my body frozen to the ground several days later. As soon as I hit I-70 and 80 mph, the water on my windshield turns immediately to ice. I’m layered well and seem to be either comfortable, or too stupid to know I’m freezing. Either way works.

It will be a short day as Fort Collins is only about 150 miles away. The Rockies aren’t anywhere to be found and only rise up when I get close to Denver. Traffic is getting heavy, but I’ll be heading out of town soon and should avoid the worst of it.

I thought the toll roads in Orlando were expensive, but the bypass in Denver gives me pause. There is no separate fee for motorcycles, so I go into my “let’s slow traffic down mode” which involves complaining about the disparity to the toll operator, taking a painfully long amount of time to get my money out and then adjusting all my clothing until it is just perfect before I leave. If I’m not making a huge impact on the road, but am being charged for it, I’m going to get my moneys worth.

The toll is $2.00. When I ask the operator if this is the last one, she says that there are two more. I’m getting off and need gas anyway. The bike takes 5.26 gallons on a 5.8 gallon tank. That’s a little closer than I feel comfortable with. Octane is 85 out here as opposed to the 87 at home. The bike seems to run fine with the lower octane.

I-25 south into Denver is a huge parking lot for about 25 miles. Fortunately, construction adds to everyone’s misery. As I look into the cars and see the single occupants, I can’t help but think they’ve brought this misery on themselves.

In Colorado Springs, I check into CSU and find that my dorm is 3 light years away from everything. There is no motorcycle parking near the dorm. If I was in a car, I’d be able to park 20 feet from my room. Instead, I’m 2 parking lots over. The university police are unimpressed and I resign myself to the fact that this is beyond my control. CSU once again is a beautiful campus and the grass is a stunning deep green. Once checked in I arrange for a tire at the local Suzuki shop, who treat me like royalty. It’s only 5 miles from my dorm. If I was on my BMW, I’d have had to plan ahead to make sure I would be able to find a dealership and a tire. The bike gets a much-needed bath and I stare in wonder at the Cee Bailey windshield that has developed yet another crack. Soon I’ll have to break out the duct tape.