Tour of Indiana

Two weeks ago my Uncle and I were going to ride up to Michigan to meet Gymi. We've had a bit of an internet friendship for a while now. For anyone who did not know I did a bit of writing for a motorcycling blog that Gymi was in charge of, as did Unk. We were finally going to meet face to face. Well that feel through and since my Uncle already had the time off we decided we would go on with the trip but reserve Michigan for another time. My guess is it will still be there the next time we need it. I decided I would ride down to Peru, Indiana and if there was time check out the circus museum and Cole Porter's methlab boyhood home. From there we would play it by ear. It was raining when I left. No big deal. Until about an hour in I got into some real nastiness and had to take shelter in a gas station to wait it out. Soaked. I was not so much worried about the rain as grateful the wind did not blow me off the highway. After the rain, and wind, let up I got back on the road. The rest of the trip was pretty decent. I met Unk in Peru. We were wet so there was not much point in sightseeing so we just headed south and stayed at his place. The Queen washed and dried my clothes for me and we went out and saw Duke Tomatoe. Nice coincidence, that.  The next day we went through southern Indiana by way of French Lick and on over to Terre Haute. We sat down and ate like we had two butt-holes and hit the rack. The next morning we did some quality loitering at the local Marathon station. Drank coffee, avoided a schizophrenic, spoke ill of the dead; you know, all the stuff you normally do on a Sunday morning in Terre Haute. We headed Northeast and found a strategic parting location where we went our separate ways. I headed North and had a very nice ride home. By then my boots had dried and it wasn't 100 degrees any more. 660ish miles around the state. (The stupid Blogger photo uploader is pissin me off so the pictures are in random order. Not that it really matters.)

 The sign is really more of a guideline than a rule.

 Gotta love an ironic sign.

 West Baden Springs Hotel. Fuggin' amazing.

 

Mulch Outlet. Less amazing.

 

 Improvised roadside repair. My shit wouldn't start, loose battery cable. No sweat. Well, there was sweat as it was one hundred goddamned degrees but we took care of it anyway.

French Lick train station. I'm a sucker for all things train.

 

Tobacco and firearms. Two out of three ain't bad.

Like I said, 100 deg.

I don't even know what to say about this except for we got a serious case of the giggles.

 

 

The West Baden Springs Hotel from the motorcycle parking lot.

Beautiful downtown Linden. That green shirt was pretty ripe by this point.

 The longest covered bridge in....aww who gives a shit.

You would if you drank this stuff. Evidently, it made you poop.