I get saddled up, gear secured, helmet on, oops, helmet off, earplugs in, helmet back on, and say goodbye to the Missus. I head down the road to the main highway, then down the mountain, and through the construction zone, to Buffalo. A few miles after getting on I-90, there's a wonderful view of the Bighorns, our home away from home in Wyoming. I've seen this view before and can't help getting a little misty eyed. It's always a little sad to see the Bighorns disappear from my mirrors. But there's still more than 2,000 miles to go in this adventure and a couple of stops on my dance card today, before slabbing it to eastern South Dakota somewhere for the night.

After a few hours Lil Red and I pull into Devil's Tower National Monument, an enormous rock formation, the remnants of an ancient volcano. There are lots of motorcycles, but close encounters of the Viffer kind, not. Nothing but Wings and Harleys, it would seem. Still, it's a big 'ole rock all right and at least two climbers are making the ascent this morning.

From Devil's Tower, it's a quick ride across a swath of Eastern Wyoming to the Black Hills. Unlike other parts of Wyoming, this bit is lush and green by comparison, with rolling pastureland and tree-covered hills. I've been dodging rain storms all morning and finally get caught up in one. I'm enjoying the coolness and smell of the rain, and I'm looking forward to my next stop, Jewel Cave National Monument. On the other hand, I need to put my rain-riding thinking cap on again, almost two weeks since I left soggy Ohio. I had the rear tire slide out on an abrupt right-hander. Erp, seat pucker time.

Jewel Cave is an amazing piece of geology, a three-dimensional labyrinth that extends for miles and miles. I opt for the standard touristy tour: take an elevator ride down, walk around for an hour, take the elevator back up. Kinda fun, but I'm getting itchy to get back on the road and the Park Ranger is giving me crap for having a CamelBak, in violation of the rules. It's humid too, with that rain, and the bathroom must have been 100 degrees inside. East of Jewel Cave, I pass through Custer State Park. This part of US16 really deserves a return trip, as does the whole Black Hills area.

It's back on the slab on I-90 east from Rapid City. You can see the Badlands off in the distance to the south, and in the foreground are umpty-ump signs announcing Wall Drug, in Wall, SD. It's a beautiful evening to be out on the bike, seeing the shadows lengthen. Somehow, South Dakota is growing on me, but it does go on and on and on. On the other hand, I'm having a great time listening to XM. I spot the first cornfield just as I pass the sign announcing the start of the central time zone: how appropriate. The highway stretches to the horizon every time me and the Viffer crest a rise; so instinctively reach for a little more throttle. Feels like I'm back in the Midwest again.

Sioux Falls, at the far eastern edge of the state, ain't happening, so I stop in Mitchell about 80 miles short of Sioux Falls. Signs on the highway announce Mitchell's claim to fame, the Corn Palace, an indoor arena decorated in corn. "It's A-Maizing," "Ears to You," and "We're all ears" the signs say. Groan. Mitchell is quite the hot spot, though, turns out a softball tournament and rodeo are in town, so the place is jumpin' and full up. I get turned away from the first motel I come to, but the desk clerk helpfully dials up the Corn Palace Motel. They have rooms and it's just up the street. "Turn right at the Hereford cow," she says, "can't miss it." It's a big cow alright and hard to miss, 'tis true. The Corn Palace Motel is kind of a dump, but the price is right and it's a good place to take off the Sidis, put up my feet and tune into the Tour de France on cable. Despite the numerous Milwaukee iron straight-pipe aficionados roaring up the main drag outside, sleep comes easily.

Day Fifteen Saturday, July 19th. Mitchell SD to Porter IN. 719 miles Stops: Pipestone, MN; Worthington, MN; Adams, MN; Effigy Mounds NM, IA; Madison, WI; Des Plaines, IL.

In the morning, the actual Corn Palace awaits. It's currently being renewed. Crews were up on lifts, creating scenes out of multi-colored corn ears, stalks, tassels, every part of the plant.

The next stop is Pipestone National Monument in Pipestone, Minnesota, where rock for ceremonial pipes was (and still is) quarried out of the ground. Interesting place.

After a bit, I pass Austin, Minn., home of Hormel Foods. There's no time to stop and I had to skip the Spam Museum, durn it. I wonder if they make the Dinty Moore Beef Stew there too?

Effigy Mounds, Iowa is on my itinerary, to nail the national parks stamp for Iowa. Northeastern Iowa is pleasantly rolling. I make the obligatory pit stop at the Visitor's Center, nearly dozing off during the introductory film. I'm contemplating making a quick circuit of a few of the mounds, a little ways up the hill. On my way I hear this "crunch" and think "rut roh." Harley guy helps get the bike upright due to a sidestand sinking into hot asphalt. I'm very pissed at myself for making such a newbie mistake and now the left side looks as screwed up as the right. It had been cracked before and I guess my homebrew ABS repairs didn't hold up too well.

Across the Mississippi lies Wisconsin. I felt like crap after the tip over and felt like I was losing my edge. Maybe I need to take a break, so I pull into a wayside to rest for a bit. A fellow on an ST stops at the wayside to see if I'm OK. I guess I looked a little done in, and he seems concerned. I assured him I would rest for a bit. On to Madison, where I ate a substantial dinner, and felt better, so decide to press on to the Chicago area. The usual M.O., I had been nibbling all day, but eating nothing substantial. I don't like feeling *full* on the bike, and it makes me drowsy. On the other hand, I don't seem to eat enough to keep my energy level up. A dilemma.

Up next: Illinois. It's great rolling through Chicago at night, drawing energy from the city and the XM in the helmet with appropriate "urban" tunes, but I'm getting dead tired by the time I hit the Indiana border.

I decide to stop and get off the Indiana Toll Road, abandoning thoughts of riding all night. It's a good thing, because Wrong Way Wilson emerges. I must be getting pretty punchy, as I pull into the wrong way lane coming out of the toll booths on the Indiana Toll Road. That got my attention. Find a motel, now. I spend the night at a dumpy Super 8 in Porter. I get the "trucker's" rate for a smoking room, one of the few left, and cheapest lodging of the trip. Yuck. At this point, I'm way too tired to care, and the guy behind gets turned away, so I'm glad I don't have to go motel hunting tonight. I think I'm asleep before I hit the mattress.

Day Sixteen Porter IN to DC 690 miles. Stops: South Bend, Indiana; near Toledo, Ohio; near Youngstown, OH; ort Necessity National Battlefield Park, Pa.; Cumberland, MD.

As usual, I try to be on the road by 7 every day, but 6:15 comes awfully early. Today's the third and last day of my 2,000-mile-plus trip home. Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore is nearby, so I decide to stop in, even though I nailed Indiana stamp-wise on the way out. Mt. Baldy, it's a big sand pile all right. Quick stop to get the stamp, and then it's back on the Indiana Toll Road, heading east with dispatch.

Indiana doesn't last long, then it's Ohio, 240-odd miles of two and three-lane Turnpike slab. It's not the most enjoyable transit of my native state, that's for sure. Hot, lots of traffic, and eastern-style aggressive driving that I *really* haven't missed.

Cross the state line into Pennsylvania and the road immediately deteriorates. I must say, the crappiness of the roads around Pittsburgh is truly world-class. I skirt the Steel City and head down to US40. Fort Necessity National Battlefield Park, site of George Washington's first significant military action, during the French and Indian War, is the next stop. It's another customary 5pm arrival a national parks property, but a stamp! There's an understanding park ranger who "gets" the stamp obsession and kindly lets me into the visitor's center.

I'm feeling pretty woozy by now, due to the heat and hunger. I'm starting to think my habit of skipping lunch is not such a hot ticket. Dinner happens at a greasy spoon a few miles down the road: yum an open-faced hot roast beef sandwich and a chocolate milkshake chaser. Some Harley riders are tucking into down-home food at the next table. Their glances and expressions seem to run the gamut from horror (from the gals) and concern (from the males). I guess they saw the red crotch rocket pull up. How do these guys keep so clean in salad bowl helmets and shirt sleeves? I've been wearing a full-face and full gear and still look like 500 miles of bad road, probably because I *have* been over 500 miles of bad road, while they're out for a Sunday putt around the countryside. I suspect riding with the visor cracked open hasn't done wonders for the cleanliness of my face, but I like the air flow. I avoid mirrors. Maybe I need to keep some baby wipes or something on the bike, so I don't look so grungy around the civilians.

Pennsylvania gives way to Maryland and it's starting to feel like home. I get off the slab for a bit and follow US 40 Scenic up over the ridgetops, including a stop at Town Hill, for one last summit sign. Then I run into a traffic back up, ugh, coming into Frederick. Welcome home! Ten miles of stop and go riding. Just what a tired body needs. There's no apparent cause, just too many cars and too little asphalt.

Lil Red and I roll into the homestead about 10 PM, with 5,600 miles and quite a few adventures under our belts. She definitely needs some TLC in the next few weeks. But considering all the bike's been through, it's pulled through quite well. It's been 16 states (four new states), 11 more state in the National Parks quest. Quite a run, I'd say.