The ride from the western deserts had been a rough one. They had waited way too long, and the weather had caught them off guard. He was glad they had stockpiled some cold weather gear, hard as it was to pack and tote around….
The brutal cold was almost too much once they were in southeast Colorado, but they pushed on. Camped one time in south-central Kansas; small tent, surplus sleeping bags and wool blankets keeping them warm againt the bitter winds. Once up, they dressed in so many layers it was hard to move. Hard, stiff leather last. To break the wind….
The bike ran well in spite of being, as usual, way overloaded. Needing tires and serviced, he hoped it didn’t leave them stranded in the God-forsaken wastelands of the Great Plains. Gasoline was hard enough to find. Of any quality. Glad his lady had scored that octane booster….
Most of the small towns were all but deserted. Some had gas stations and minimal services to support the local farmers. An occasional seedy cafe, general store and motel.The locals, like the nomads passing through, had learned to be self sufficient as much as possible.
They had stopped in Pittsburg for coffee and gas. Not much there any more. College was still open, barely….Everything else running on bare minimum or gone. They were starting to wonder if Joplin would still exist….
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