Day 3: Morning post

I dropped Sean off at last night's end point at about 6 this morning.  It was drizzling, and looks as though it might all day, but I was happy this morning to see an old friend.

Last night's post was lacking because I was so tired, and I forgot to include a lot of information.  Thanks to an ill-timed call from Sean, my unfamiliarity with Kansas City highways, and my discomfort with merging in Sean's SUV, I got off at the stadium exit of I-435 rather than I-70 as I intended to use to get to Higginsville.  I didn't want to stop and get the atlas out, so I just used my judgment and acute senses to navigate my way to Route FF, the road Sean was peddling on. There were a lot of turns, stop lights and self doubt, my I got my way to Higginsville.  After that experience, I'm pretty sure I could find my home from the center of the Black Hills if I had enough bottled water and energy ooze to last me the trip.

Once in Higginsville, I stopped at Crocker's Pool and Bar, where I was able to charge my cell phone and have a few beers with Rod and Susie of Concordia and the bartender, Bobby.  I was drinking Bud Light, but Bobby was pouring Rod and Sue's vodka tonics with about 95 parts vodka and one part tonic all night, so if that's your thing, I  definitely recommend the place.  Rod and Bobby, who didn't grow up together, shared stories of their younger days that had me cracking up all night.  One of Bobby's stories involved an overzealous cop who was certain Bobby had a booze bottle hidden in his trunk because he smelled something funny.  Bobby asked to see a warrant, so the officer took the under-aged Bobby with him to the judge to get a warrant, went back to the car, opened the trunk, and when he didn't see anything he crawled in the trunk a bit to check under the flaps along the sides of the trunk.  The officer came out with two big black stains on the knees of his pants.  "What's this?" he asked.  "It's diesel fuel, I've been helping my dad all day and a little spilled, that's what you smelled when you pulled me over,"  Bobby finally informed him.  "Is this going to stain?" the officer asked.  "All my jeans still have blackened knees," Bobby said as he walked to his driver's seat laughing.  That same officer was later demoted from Sergeant to trooper for another incident.  From the stories, he kind of reminds me of Rod Farva in Super Troopers.

 I left there to go pick up Sean who had gained the company of an old basset hound that followed him down the road.  We loaded up the bike and took off.  So this morning I said it would be cool if the basset hound followed him all the way to New York, and Sean thought it would be really cool if it turned out the dog could talk, too.  We determined it would be highly intelligent and well-read and would have a name like Herman.  Herman would be the type of intellectual that doesn't like being called "dude" because that's not his name.  Well, this morning, when I dropped Sean off, Herman was there with a second basset hound.  I was happy to see him again, but they made driving a challenge because I was afraid to run them over, they were so close to the car.  I had to get out and clap my hands and stomp my feet to scare them away.  Too bad I couldn't just bring them along.