Some decisions in life are easy, like “paper or plastic”, “cream or sugar” or “do you want fries with that?” When someone offers to pay for you to go to Colorado and work for a week in the summer, the next decision is equally as easy “car, airline or motorcycle?”

The downside is that I’ll be in the exact same place I was last summer on a motorcycle I’m not sure I trust. The Rockies are the clear winner for scenery, but the Georgia/North Carolina Mountains have my vote for the best riding.

Leaving Clermont, FL around 1 A.M. avoids the heat and Memorial Day traffic. In theory that’s a great idea. So is getting more sleep. Sunrise usually wakes me up, but there is no sun in sunrise. It’s cloudy and will be raining soon which keeps me sleepy and I have to constantly remind myself that falling asleep will be painful.

Instead of running up through Atlanta to I-24 in Tennessee, I take some back roads to Birmingham, AL. By the time I get there the rain has started. An accident south of town occurs minutes before my arrival and I luckily find an exit through a puddle of water that must be 2 feet deep. My GPS has a nice feature that lets the user choose how much of a detour you want to take. For me it’s only a couple of exits and the Garmin 276C has me back on the freeway heading north. If only my XM Radio would be so reliable. The reception has been spotty for the whole night. I wouldn’t be so irritated, but this is a replacement unit I just got back from the factory.

North of Birmingham/Huntsville is a rest area with a full size rocket. Wouldn’t this be a great toy for the back yard. You’d never have a problem with your neighbors. Just saying “Don’t make me use this” would stifle any argument.

Ok. I know it is Memorial Day and all, but enough with the police enforcement already. As I enter both Kentucky and Illinois, there is a spotter on an overpass with 10 or more chase cars on an on-ramp. Many vacationers will be eating bologna sandwiches this holiday. After 950 miles, I’m ready to call it a night in Marion, IL. This will be a good place to make a run through St. Louis tomorrow morning.

4:30 A.M. Why can’t I stay in a motel long enough to get the “free” continental breakfast? You would think that would be a priority to a guy my size. Outside of the motel is what looks to be a rocket, but is probably more of a silo.

It’s a dreary morning in St. Louis, but at least it isn’t raining. There is a huge storm in the Midwest coming this way. My only shot at staying dry is to fly across Missouri and head north. In Kansas City, I do just that. I’d prefer to go across Kansas on I-70 rather than Nebraska on I-80, but dry and warm is always preferable to wet and cold when you are on a motorcycle.

There is something about I-70 in Kansas that makes my mellow. A lot of riders would do everything in their power to avoid that stretch of highway. I admire the grassy rolling hills. To me, each one is different. I-80, on the other hand, follows the Platt River, which you can’t see. There is a treeline along the river that doesn’t vary and blocks the landscape.

Nebraska though, in my opinion, is the real west of movie fame. West of Lincoln is Pony Express, Conestoga Wagon and Lewis and Clark territory. We were pretty rough on the Arapahoe and other tribes in the area.

There is a serious cloud bank to the west and the temperatures are dropping below 50 degrees. I know if I stop moving my Florida blood will immediately clot up and stop flowing. It’s time for a motel 50 miles short of where I was going to end up, but North Platte, Nebraska is as good a place as any to call it a night.