Started the day by folding my blankets and picking up my new friends' living room the best I could. Best I could do for them after they rained drinks on me and kept me from getting rained on by mother nature. Checked oil and air, marveled at my lost highway peg from the day before, and it was time to split.
Long story short, those were some of the greatest motorcycles I've ever seen. I could have come here and gone home and still have had a great trip. The American Pickers live about 60 miles away, and come in there quite often. Off across the Mississippi, but not before I found out the hard way that lane splitting in corn country is frowned upon. The angry glare from a single finger waving inbred farm hand proved both this, and his IQ.