Headfirst

The 1st 5 pics are from Sunday leaving Denver. One is at breakfast at the golf course, the other post meal ready to leave. I do believe one pic has been mixed up with a Tour de France stage. Those riders look serious. The pic of me with the elderly ladies was my George Clooney moment. Obviously, their eyes are not all they could be. Laura has done up the back of the carryall with some art. Last but not least, I decided rather than call the divorce lawyer I would just plow into a hay bale.

The window air conditioner was so noisy I had to get up in the middle of the night to stop the madness, but then we could hear the eighteen wheelers roaring by on I-70. We were only half asleep when the I-phone went off at 6:30 and started our day. We've determined it's best to leave as early as possible to avoid the thunderstorms that seem to come every afternoon. As I walked into the breakfast diner 6,yes 6, twentysomethings climbed out of their car after sleeping in it for the night. They stretched and told us they felt like circus performers that did the unfolding trick from the little box.

We were on the road at 8:30 after getting a lunch we could carry, which was snack bar, apples, a banana, and beef jerky. There isn't much east of Byers except prarie, with rolling hills. The town of Last Chance is 30 miles away, nothing but a church and an intersection, so we blew through and turned north on our way to Brush. There's a spot they've named Woodrow, for the president. Not a speck of wood around, just hay and some corn. Forty five miles later we were in Brush, at 2:30. The computer is fubar again, but otherwise the bike is great. Laura feels great, my ass hurts again. These cheeks just aren't used to being abused like this.

Brush is named for a cattle baron, nothing more interesting than that. I went to the library to check. It's a nice little town, very pretty with trees and lawns and flowers all over. We had dinner at a diner with mexican food owned by a fellow from Detroit that is trying to buy up alot of the town. Tomorrow it's on to Julesburg, 85 miles away. It is nice to hear of and from all the people who will meet us at the Kite ranch. Bonecrusher, don't let that Harley break anything else.