After a weekend of cold days, motorcycle rallies and packing, we were finally ready to leave. I was more excited about the Run than I had ever been, but I was nervous about leaving most of the family for several weeks. I knew that I could do it, though, because I had done it the year before.
We took off, hoping we hadn't left anything important. I knew that with each pound of the engine I was that much farther from home. Yet I anticipated what lie ahead.
Within fifteen minutes of leaving home we realized what we had been missing: gas. So we called home and waited for the rest of the family to save us. We looked at some nearby railroad tracks while we waited and soon the car had come. We fueled up the bike some and then were escorted to the nearest gas station. And so went our first two fuel stops.
We said goodbye for the last time and set off again. We went through a small bit of rain as we went through Pueblo, but it did not get us very wet.
After we went through Canyon City and about 100 miles of uneven countryside we stopped to rest, eat and give the bike more gas. Then came the worst part.
Higher and higher we went as we ascended the Rocky Mountains, where snow was piled up to ten feet! Immediately I wished I had brought along gloves because my wrists were stiff and I was rubbing my hands together to try to keep them from going more numb than they were.
I found it hard to believe that in the same day I had been wanting to take off my jacket as I waited on the side of the road for gas, I now could hardly stand the cold of the mountains!
It warmed up a little as we got lower in elevation. Finally, after hundreds of miles of riding, we reached our destination--the house of a colleage of Dad's. After a wonderful dinner I was able to go across a lake in a paddle boat with their son. We then went to bed, done with the day's adventures and ready for some sleep.