At first light (well, first for me, since before that my eyes were tightly shut) I packed up and headed out in search of a hardware store. Finding one, I bought some solder and an iron, unplugged the Coke machine outside the store and performed corrective surgery on my helmet wiring. I replugged the Coke machine back in, so Lincoln could enjoy ice-cold refreshing Coke! (There, now send me my damn sponsorship check, already)

I could tell you about my trip across Iowa, but there's nothing whatsoever to tell. It was there, I crossed it. End of story. And that's spicing things up a bit.

Actually, to say something nice about the place, an ST is able to cross it in just under 3 hours, if the wind stays calm.

One thing I noticed in my trip across the middle states...when it's not windy, it's cloudy. Or, in the case of Illinois, it's raining. After 7 days on the road, it finally opens up and pours on me. The V1 went back and forth between my dash shelf and my Stich pocket about 6 times. Finally, as I gained the Chicago metro area, it tapered off and stopped, thankfully.

Despite dire warnings from Todd Grinnell (my Chicago host), and my own memories, the traffic situation in Chicago was really quite smooth. Freeway traffic stopped a couple of times, but most times was moving (and you can't expect more than that on Friday night in Chicago rush hour, lemme tell you). I had some problems finding Todd's actual neighborhood, as the street signs were set back quite a distance from the main road, and so did some impromptu sightseeing until I could locate my ass with my hands.

Todd and Pam gushed hospitality. Yellowstone should have such gushers. The Chicago fire departments don't have hoses with throughputs to match Todd and Pam's hospitality output. It quickly became obvious that they were expecting someone a lot more needy than myself, and I had to threaten to duct tape Pam to a chair once or twice before they eventually settled down so we could all relax. Even then, when Pam wasn't being directly addressed or talking herself, she walked around muttering how she needed to vacuum someplace. I can only hope that someday Todd and Pam can attend the hospitality Olympics, so they can throw Martha Stewart's silly ass off the podium once and for all.

The evening was spent watching TV, chatting about lesbians (Hey, what do you talk about just before bed?), and discussing the next day's mechanical procedures. A bedroom had been prepared for me, along with an air mattress. When the yawns started outnumbering the conversation inputs, we all headed for bed.