Day 16

By 7am I was crossing back over the Missouri River and leaving Pierre. I filled up when I arrived in town yesterday, so was able to dispense with that chore.

The weather is perfect-what else is new? I've come to expect it. I was finished riding east, now its time to turn south. It was loathsome to think the weather will now grow hotter and more humid by the mile. Last night the temp in Pierre fell all the way to the low 50s, with NO humidity. I won't feel that in Alabama till late October.

US 83 will be the route of choice to take me south. The highway quickly leaves Pierre behind, and the quiet purring of the ST is all I hear. This part of South Dakota reminds me very much of another landscape- The Palouse of East Washington. The rolling hills of green grass are idyllic.

I'm out of the mountains and on the Dakota Prairies. I'm riding past the world's richest farmland worked by the best people with the most advanced equipment. Our capitalist system has produced such productive farmers, that they not only feed our 280 million people but a great number of others. The dirt in South Dakota is so rich it has a very dark texture. Many fields were recently turned and ready for planting. Every time I ride the Heartland I'm amazed, how so few, feed so many. I feel small. I come from humble beginnings, perhaps that is why I feel such a strong connection to the Heartland.

My first goal for the day is Lebanon, Kansas- the geographical center of the United States. My atlas tells me there is a marker there. It sounded like a good photo op.

US 83 took me to I-90, where I briefly went east then exited at US 183 to continue south. Not many farm houses could be found on 183, that told me the few I did see, owned thousand and thousands of farmland acres.

US 183 turned east for a few miles and along the way it carried me to Winner. One of the bigger communities I came through in this area. I was riding through the west side of town when I found a closed drive in. I love such stuff so turned off to take a look. The white screen still faced the highway, but many of the panels were missing. I took the ST down the dirt road it was located on, and stopped for a few pics.

I pulled to the ticket office as if I was going to pay to see a movie. The old posts that hung the speakers were still there, but waist high grass made it too hard to see if any were on the ground to be picked up. A white concession stand was old and broken, and baking in the morning sun. Drive Ins were so much fun, too bad most kids will never experience one.

My nostalgia experience completed, I was ready to ride. I leave Winner and its farm and tractor supply houses, and stay on 183 when it turns south again for Nebraska and Kansas.

As I entered Kansas I noticed clouds in the distance. They looked benign, and I didn't see them as threat.

A gas mart in Springview served as a butt break venue. I had a Mountain Dew and chips. I was sitting at the table when 2 farmers with their sons came in. The boys looked about 16. They were quiet and respectful. Each got a drink and snack, with the father on the passenger side paying for everything. When they went back to the truck the boys diligently took the club seats in the rear, while their dads dominated the front. They didn't even think about getting in the front seat. That's ok boys, one day y'all will have sons. You get to sit up front when you pay the bills.

US 183 dissects Nebraska right down the middle, separating east from west, just skirting the Sand Hills in the north. I turned left out of Basset, starting a long lonely ride to Kansas. There was very little to see, as the ST carried me past the friendless land. I began to think about next year. What will it be like to be retired?

I thought about many of the same things as the my ride through the Heartland last fall. I ended that ride thinking I would work 2 more years, but a meeting with the state retirement rep just before Thanksgiving, changed my mind. So I cut it back to 18 months. He ran the numbers, and said, " Look if you keep working it will be for 15%. The only tax taken out of a state pension is federal tax, and you get that back at refund time. With the enhanced retirement (extra 5 yeas of credit 25yrs=30) for firefighters it would not be good business to keep working. The rep asked me if I was ready to retire at 48. "yes, because I have some stuff to do before I get too old." As I was riding on 183 I recalled that meeting. The rep had on a white shirt, and it was cold and rainy out the office window. He was young, 30 something. He wrote some things down, and gathered my retirement papers, and put them in a accordion file, when he gave them to me he said, "I shoulda been a firefighter."

Sixty miles separates Basset and Taylor on US 183. The only time you have to slow down is when you pass through Rose. I was so lost in thought those 60 miles, I can't tell you a single thing about the place. Unusual for me.

A sign out front of a Taylor, Nebraska school said summer session begins June 21. The poor kids that have to go to THAT.

I left Taylor with the fuel light on, but ignored it. I was singing, "gimme the beat boys to free my soul, I wanna get lost in ya rock and roll, and drift away", I wanted to finish the song without interruption.

Sargent was the next town on the plains to see me. I geared down as I approached the town looking for a gas station. Nothing. This place has definitely seen better days. A small park with a crowd of kids were gathered under a pavilion. I turned right to check the next block over, and the quiet houses stood silent as I eased by. I came back to 183 and saw something that looked like a gas station 2 blocks south. I took the ST in, and it was obvious this place has been closed a loooooong time. I pulled to the pump to check the price, just for curiosity's sake. Yep, 89 cent a gallon was the last thing on the device. Been awhile for sure.

A mile further south I found a modern looking gas mart and filled up. I charged 9.12 to my Visa checkcard. It was getting harder and harder to find Exxon or Chevron stations (my gas cards) so I'm going to have to transfer some cash from savings to checking, to pay for gas.

I picked up the pace, and easily knocked down miles by the handful as I motored south on 183, closing in on Kansas. A McDonald's near I-80 served me a late lunch. I had a double cheeseburger and read the Omaha newspaper. The college World Series had just started and it dominated the news.

Traffic picked up in southern Nebraska, but only when compared to the desolate northern end. Otherwise, it was nothing to pay attention to.

The welcome to Kansas sign went by and I knew I was close to the geo marker. The geography is the same as Nebraska though.

For a guy who was has ridden the Continental United States, finding the exact middle of the country was important. I can tell you all about each coast and everything between Mexico and Canada, but I couldn't tell you what the exact center held. I've been to the marker that marked the center if you count Alaska and Hawaii, but that's hard for a guy to picture in his mind. Everyone knows the outline of 48 America, so Lebanon is the marker that really counts.

A green and white sign tells me to turn right, and I push the flasher to the right and gear down. I come out of the turn and find myself on a paved local road. The bumpy road takes me up a series of hills and when I crest the last, I see the end of my quest to find the center of the United States.

The exact center of America is on a small hill in the Kansas farmland. A stone marker marks the spot, with the American and Kansas flags flying at the top of the pole. I unsaddle and take my helmet off and earplugs out. A covered picnic spot, sits to the side, along with a small white building. A few trees and shrubs hang around. The spot is surrounded by grassland, and a tractor kicks up dust from a nearby field.

A plaque on the stone marker says a commission was formed in the 1940s to find the center of America. Using graphs and tables, and without the aid of computers, they found the center to be here. The location is not some big city or profoundly beautiful place, but just a simple hill, in the among the farms.

I was looking around, when I noticed a man walking my way. He introduced himself as John, the unofficial greeter and caretaker of this special place. He said he moved here from Michigan and it took the locals many years to accept him. John said he had visions of this place in his dreams, and was drawn to come here to live. He gave me a handout to read.

'yeah, but many believe a new nation will be born here in the Heartland. Many are leaving the coasts to escape all the nonsense. The quality of life in the Heartland is something unique, and many want to sample it."

" I don't doubt that, but a new nation???? As a guy who has spent time all over the country, I agree both coasts are out of touch with rest of the country. They could use some of the values held by Heartlanders, but I think y'all gonna have hard time starting a new country. We tried that a long time ago, and they ain't gonna go for Kansas seceeding in Washington." I said with a chuckle.

He led me to the little white building. It was a tiny little chapel with a few pews. I signed the book and put my hometown by my name.

"it was a small motel back in the 50s. Back before the interstates this used to be a very busy place. But now most folks don't have time to come down off the interstate to visit such a place."

He was right about that. I guess not enough Long Riders are left to keep the
motel open.

John told me a slow, but steady stream of people make the trek to the center of America. Some days busier then others.

"Look here John, all because some feel compelled to come here, doesn't mean they wanna start a new nation. They're just curious like ME"

I was gearing back up when I noticed a car approaching in the distance. It topped the last hill and came to rest beside the ST. Two middle aged ladies exited the car, California plates, and went to read the marker. John walked over to them, with his handout ready. I smiled and shook my head as I punched the starter and went back to the highway.

Lebanon, Kansas is on life support. The once thriving little town is all but dried up. I cruised through the town and felt sorry for it. Empty houses and businesses were everywhere. I found Main Street, and in the middle of Thursday afternoon you could have filmed a doomsday movie.

City Hall was a tiny place next door to even smaller library. I decided now would be a good time to take care of some business, so I pulled in to use the computers. The place was locked. I checked the operating times on the door, and it was suppose to be open. I went next door to city hall to quiz someone.

I was still smiling thinking about John while pumping gas at a old fashioned gas station on 281. With no credit card machine on the pump, I went in to pay. Inside, I asked a attendant who looked my age, the million dollar question-

"they all died," he said matter of factly, as he got out my change for the 10 dollars I handed him.

I decided I was going to bolt for home in the morning, I wanted to get as far east as I could today. I got out my map and plotted a course to I-70. I'm going to shoot for Topeka. It will mean a long day to make it home tomorrow, but I can handle it. Having discharged my obligation to the geo marker, it was time to get moving.

It is late afternoon and Topeka is a long ride. I called my wife and asked if she heard anything from Chris about his interview. She advised not yet. I informed her of my intentions and she said to call her when I get to Topeka. She also said its been raining for 2 weeks in Alabama, but I have dry window the next 2 days, so now is a good time to "get on home".

I went east out of Lebanon on US 36 toward cloudy and possibly rainy skies and my first encounter with a LEO since Colorado 2001.

I had just passed through Mankato, and was up to cruising speed-80mph on the 65 mph speed limit road. The corn rows were flashing by me, and I overtook a few slower moving cars. Then I saw him, a state trooper, he was hidden behind a car, westbound, the vehicle blocked him from me till the last instant. I jammed the brakes but his light bar fired off. Damint. I glanced down at my instruments, I was under 80 but over 70 when he nailed me, maybe its going to be just a warning.

I immediately took to the wide shoulder and waited, hoping the gesture will make it easier on me. He comes in behind me and we have this exchange.

I stood by my bike while he did the writing. The cars I passed miles back no doubt smiling when they saw my predicament.

I took my medicine. My long streak at last over. It was bound to happen. I could not complain much, I've been 80k miles the last 2.5 years and much of it over the speed limit, and some of it WAY over the limit. He peeled the ticket off and I stuffed it in the Moto Fizz bag. I filed it under C, for chicken....t. How ya write a guy up for 8 over?

The ST and I came to life after the ticket. I hated it, but like I said, I had no reason to complain, I'm way ahead in the debit column.

It seemed like I was on US 36 a long time, but I finally reached SR 99 and turned south again. SR 99 took me past farms and and woods. Trees, I was beginning to see trees again, and it was a welcome sight.

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was struggling with the rain clouds in the east. Despite the recent ticket, I was back up to 75mph. The highway was pretty much empty, and I was alone in my thoughts. I crested a hill, and started down hill the other side when I saw a crashed 18 wheeler on north shoulder. It was down a short embankment and laying on the passenger side, with yellow police tape surrounding it. Having been in the business 24.5 years, I knew the yellow tape meant a fatality. The wreck probably happened last night, and the truck company has not yet made it down to claim what's left.

I went to the shoulder and looked down at the truck, then followed the tracks back out to the road. The wreck took place on straight, and judging by the tracks the truck just left the road and went down the hill. There were no skid marks. My guess- the driver fell asleep. Happens far too much. I rank being sleepy right up there with drinking for cause of accidents. Saddened by what I saw, I continued my trip south to I-70.

The rain in the east was still there, and I knew when I found I-70 it was going to plaster me. But I had the same attitude as that with my ticket, been a great run, and I have no reason to complain.

A brain dead cage driver in the town of Wamego, cut me off when he pulled out of a fast food drive in. Other then that episode, the town was a nice experience.

My pleasant ride on SR 99 ended when I came to the interstate. I-70. The mere name conjures up long images of urban sprawl across Missouri. I came down the ramp toward the rain, it was very dark. The rain hit me a few miles later, and I accepted it. It was not a hard rain, but a nice summer shower. I splashed through it at 65 mph. For the farms in the area it was welcome.

I rode in the rain for 20 miles or so, then it started breaking up. The sun was trying to break out, and I was almost to Topeka. I looked right and in the distance I saw a rainbow. It curved over the trees. It was beautiful. I took it as a good sign.

The exit for the Motel 8 soon appeared and and I took it. I followed the highway past a row of fast food joints and motels. I found the unit and pulled to the lobby. It was after 8pm and 634 miles was on the ST odometer.

I had to check in to upstairs room this time. When I finished unloading I moved the ST to the front, so it could be watched from the lobby.

I checked my messages and had a voice mail from Chris. He got the job at Wells Fargo and starts Monday. I called him and to get the details.

He will be working in the Financial division. All types of consumer loans, including real estate, he has a nice salary, bonus incentives, and benefit package. Fargo is new to Alabama, he has a great opportunity. Given today's job market, I told him he was fortunate to land such a job right out of school.

"Remember how we felt when you struck that boy out in the last inning with 2 outs and the bases loaded to beat Selma in the district tournament? To put us in the state tourney?" He was 14.

"I would say you're lucky, but I know its more than that. You've been good at everything you do, I know you will go far with Wells Fargo. I'm proud of ya, and I'll be home tomorrow night, we'll go eat steak. I love ya buddy."

I took a shower and walked to a nearby Steak and Shake for a late supper. I spoke with Debbie about our son's job and opportunity, while I waited for my burger.

"I know, we'll have to get him some clothes till he gets his first check, but geezus that joker is making almost as much as me, so he ain't gonna be on my payroll much longer"

I told Debbie to fill out and cash the check I left for emergencies, and to get get him what he needed, and I'd see them tomorrow night. "I should be home around 10."

I ate supper and enjoyed the walk back to the motel. It was a great time to be a Boutin. Like I said, you have to go through bad times to enjoy the good. Our family is on a roll. I get a big raise last fall, and my son lands a bigtime job right out of college. I know life, there will be difficult times ahead, don't know what kind, but they are out there, but doggone it, I'm going bask in the glory while its good.

Back at the room I thought about the next day. I'm looking at a 900 mile ride to get home. I'll be repeating the ride I made in 2001. The only difference is I'm just a little further east then I where I started in 2001.

I plan a crack of dawn start, so tried to sleep. Believe it or not I was too excited about my son and this trip to be sleep well. I tossed and turned way too much.

Update: 2-25-04
I received the following email from John of Lebannon,Kansas.

Dear Guy; was looking at your website & discovered that you had, as you promised, included a photo of me & pieces of conversation which We'd had last summer @ the "Center of the U.S." near Lebanon, KS. First of all let me say thank you for the friendly visit We had. I do remember it as enjoyable. And also for taking the time to include me in your travel memoirs. I would, however, like to make an attempt to set the record straight concerning my interest in the "New Nation". I don't feel that i made myself very clear to you at that time, as We didn't take very long in Our communication that day, w/your feeling a need to push on homeward, understandably. The new nation i referenced actually has nothing to do w/kansas seceeding from the present nation of the usa. I really don't believe you can resurrect, or or reform an older, corrupted, & dying nation/civilization. I think a new one must be, will be, and NOW IS being formed (right here) out of the decay & ashes of the former one, as i believe it's the "perfect" will of the Almighty in so doing. Actually, what i did see (in a "vision", NOT a dream) was a new family/community being formed in this location, which would become a city (such as the New Jerusalem), then growing outward encompassing, or swallowing up, a township, a county, a state, a nation, & then eventually the entire world into ONE huge Nation/Family. Actually, there have been quite a few of Us who have had the same, or similiar visions, dreams, & or thoughts on getting in on the "ground floor" of this village endeavor.As i said, it has already started here w/the advent, over the last couple years, of like-minded people beginning to trickle into town (Lebanon, KS) from all over the continental U.S., replacing the older native persons dying off (farmers), and the younger native locals moving away looking for the "bucks". Those of Us who are now coming to rest here have "already-been-there-done that", and are quite content w/picking up older houses here, making them liveable, and enjoying the lower (much) cost, slower, & safer style of living. We have formed a non-profit corporation here, and are calling it "The City