Rush Hour Rambling

Weather: 56°F (13°C) and Sunny! Perfect riding weather.
Road Conditions: Dry, with salt and sand in places.

The warm weather brought a smile to my face that lasted all day long.

It’s been a long time comin’, but Spring has finally arrived here in Minnesota.

The weather this weekend has been perfect for riding, and it seems that everyone who owns a motorbike is out and about, many for the first time this year.

Frogwing and I spent Saturday scouting the route for a ride I have planned on Memorial Day weekend. My wife Amy is going to attend a wedding, out of town, and Emily was going to stay with her Grandma. That is, until Daddy made other plans…

On Memorial Day Weekend, I am taking my little Emily Rose out for her first motorcycle road trip, weather permitting.

We will ride down to Prescott, Wisconsin, where I have reserved lodging at the River Heights Motel. From there, we will ride out to see the beautiful countryside and charming small towns down along the river bluffs. Since this is her first trip on a motorcycle, we won’t be doing a lot of miles. I wouldn’t want her to associate the big bike with pain in her backside, so we will take it easy. But that area has more beautiful scenery per square mile than anyplace else I can think of within a short days’ ride.

Locals Kevin and Anne were out on their maxi-scooters.

As Frogwing and I were cruising down Concord Street, the sun glinted off the two futuristic machines in the photo above. We pulled in to investigate, and as we did, Kevin and Anne came out of the saloon in search of someplace that served breakfast.

Kevin has been riding for some time now, but Anne is new to our sport/hobby/obsession. Nice folks, as maxi-scooter people usually are. We chatted for a bit, and they posed for the photo, and then they headed next door to the restaurant. Frogwing and I continued on down the sideroads towards Wisconsin.

We rode around Hastings for a bit before crossing the two rivers into Prescott. Once there, we went looking for The Slipp Inn, which was recommended to me by our own Buster Brown.

Folks down along the river informed me that they are closed right now. Rumor has it that this is a temporary situation, due to a disagreement with the tax man, and they should reopen by Summer. When they do, I will be sure to feature them here.

Well, since Plan A for lunch was scuttled by the IRS, Frogwing and I went off in search of Plan B. We rode to the River Heights Motel where, with the help of a very nice lady at the check-in counter, I was able to photograph the very room that I have reserved for our stay. I also took a picture of the indoor pool, as Emily loves to swim. Later Saturday night, I showed these to her, to fire her enthusiasm for the trip. Emily is a bit scared of Frogwing, and giving her something to visualize as a goal will help to ease her fears.

At the far end of the parking lot was the answer to my lunch dilemma…

Lunch was at Philander’s Grill in Prescott.

Philander’s Grill is typical of the kind of place you find near a decent motel these days. Built within the last decade or so, it has a sports bar ambience, and the menu is filled with every kind of burger you can imagine.

There is an extensive sandwich selection, along with various other local specialties. I chose the Buffalo Chicken Wrap for a change of pace. The real measure of how good a kitchen is, lies in how well they do the odd items on the menu.

The wrap was good, but the onion rings that I ordered on the side were truly the best I’ve ever tasted. These are made from scratch, with what is undoubtedly a beer-batter. If they serve fish covered in this stuff, I am definitely coming back for that.

Tasty Buffalo Chicken Wrap and the best Onion Rings I’ve ever had.

With lunch under my belt, and my photo-reconnaissance mission accomplished, it was time to put on some miles. Frogwing and I headed south on Wisconsin Highway 35, which I have taken to calling “Thunder Road” for all of the straight-piped Hogs that rumble and blat up-and-down it, all season long. It’s a good thing Mr. Denny doesn’t live here…

We went looking for some dirt roads to ride, because I love to practice sliding sideways in the curves, and steering with the throttle. Besides that, I promised my sponsor Kenda Tires that I would take a couple of photos, and think of something to say by way of endorsement for all of the wonderful support they have given me.

Many of the dirt roads I used to ride here have been paved, however. You just can’t stop progress, I guess. It is relentless, even when it is Wrong. If brand-new McMansions built on what used to be prime farmland can be called “progress”, does that make the people who actually live in these things “Progressive”? My guess would be No.

Just another strange contradiction in the warped reality of modern American life.

…and now, a word from our sponsor.

We found the road pictured above on our way home. It would be kind of fun to see if any of my local readers can guess where it is. Anyone? Anyone? Buster?

Weather: Irrelevant.
Road Conditions: Irrelevant.

This is the wallpaper display on my PC today.

Please excuse the non-motorbike theme of this post, but today, I am in mourning. Kurt Vonnegut, one of my favorite authors of all time, has died in Manhattan, at the age of 84.

His departure is a profound loss for anyone who has ever enjoyed contemporary American literature.

Of course, he is best known for his classic work, “Slaughterhouse Five”, which was required reading in many public school literary courses. This was unfortunate because being “forced” to read something in childhood often means that we develop an aversion to that author’s other works in the future. This goes against everything Kurt Vonnegut stood for. Ironic, no?

But Kurt was always big on irony.

Mr. Vonnegut died of brain injuries, suffered in a fall a couple of weeks ago. I’m sure it would surprise him that he did not die of cancer from his lifelong smoking habit. He used to say that smoking was a fairly certain and somewhat dignified form of slow suicide.

But it is not my business here to write obituaries. The New York Times wrote a very comprehensive one, and you can read that here. I simply want to express my sorrow over his passing, and my gratitude for the fourteen novels bearing his name that sit proudly on my bookshelves.

Rest in peace, Mr. Vonnegut. Readers and thinkers everywhere will miss you.

Weather: 39°F (4°C) Under sunny skies.
Road Conditions: Dry and salty, with sand in the corners.

Always The River… Railbridge over the Mississippi in Hastings, Minnesota.

Hastings, Minnesota and Prescott, Wisconsin are two rivers and one state border apart, and neither of them are on my way home from work. But they are two of the most beautiful small towns within Rambling distance of the Twin Cities.

On Monday night, with freezing rain and snow in the forecast for the next few days, I decided to pull out all the stops and go for a memorable ride before the weather closed in again. When you live in the Twin Cities, and you want a beautiful, scenic ride, The River is always going to figure prominently in your plans. In this case, it was actually The Rivers – plural.

The roads that connect Hastings and Prescott straddle the confluence of the Mississippi and Saint Croix Rivers, just a few miles southeast of the I-94 loop. To get there out of Plymouth, without too much mucking about, Frogwing and I took to the freeways. We blasted out of the parking lot at 3:31 pm and surfed the lip of the frantic rush-hour wave all the way home. After checking in with my girls and advising them of my plan, (NOT asking permission, mind you…) Frogwing and I headed for Concord Street, and a leisurely cruise on the backroads headed south.

Concord led us to Courthouse Boulevard, where we turned left and followed along to Mississippi Trail. Following that, we rolled into the old town of Hastings by the back way. Lined up along both sides of this old Main Street are gorgeous brick buildings that date back to the mid eighteen-hundreds.

This part of town was pretty quiet on a Monday night, so Frogwing and I didn’t linger. The light wasn’t right for the kind of photograph that I wanted to make anyway, so that’s a good excuse to return later in the season.

As we were rolling out the other end of town, my ears detected the distinctive riffs and hardcore lyrics of Megadeth, blasting out of a storefront on the ground floor of one of these historic buildings. This, I suppose, is where I must admit to being an old-school metalhead. Hey, I was there in Los Angeles when Metallica first started playing the clubs. Iron Maiden’s “The Trooper” still sends shivers down my spine to this day!

“Scott’s Hot Sound”, your One Stop Rock Shop, Hastings, Minnesota.

In this case, the tunes were issuing from a place called “Scott’s Hot Sound”, which bills itself as a full-service music store. They sell instruments, give lessons, and provide a place for local prodigies to jam. Scott was sitting on the bench outside with his teenage daughter, and I decided to stop and chat for awhile. I hadn’t heard “Architecture of Aggression” in years!

He really seemed to like Frogwing. The idea of one single motorbike that can take you anywhere you want to go, reliably, at the drop of a hat, really resonates with the adventurous soul. Scott stared wistfully at my well-worn travelling companion, and almost swore to me that he would have his own, someday soon. Then we took the photo above inside his shop, and Frogwing and I set off across the rivers for Prescott, Wisconsin.

Regular readers will remember Prescott from several other RHR entries. From the Flood Run to my various weekend border rides, either Prescott or Hudson is my jumping-off point into the Land of Cheese. If I do start out in Hudson, I often ride through Prescott anyway. It’s a hard town to pass up.

From the beautiful riverfront to the excellent restaurants, Prescott is the perfect pit-stop for riders of any appetite. I could spend hours poking around town with my camera. The place has some very interesting geography, and the afternoon sunlight strikes it in dramatic ways.

Twice now, I have featured a photograph of Frogwing lounging outside a place called “Enrique’s Taco House”. And twice now, I have failed to capture an image of the delectable comestibles available therein. (Sorry, just flexing my vocabulary here… pathetic, huh?)

Well, not only that, but they have GREAT TACOS! Feast your eyes:

Click on this! The Fried Taco from Enrique’s Taco House, Prescott, WI.

Dona Soto and her husband Antonio opened this place a few years ago, on the left-hand corner as you come across the bridge. She tells me they named it after their grand-baby, Enrique. This is truly a family business, and every time I have stopped by, the food has been, well, magnificent.

The salsa is crafted fresh in-house, which is very important to me. The tacos and burritos I have had there are made with beef that is ground fresh daily. Dona tells me that they will have a corn roaster ready, out on the deck, in time for the Flood Run not even two weeks from now. For those who want something other than butter, they will have a sour-cream chipotle sauce to brush on. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it right here…

After dinner, Frogwing and I headed back across the border, crossing the two bridges again. The sun was getting low in the sky, and the temperature was starting to drop. Crossing the bridge, we took a right on Saint Croix Trail, and headed back towards home.

A left on 70th Street yielded the pastoral scene you see below:

There’s a lot of this on R-P India. A Vespa would look good out here…

Steve William’s “Scooter in the Sticks” was very much on my mind when I set up this shot. I kept thinking about how nice that elegant Vespa GTS would look, compared to my rugged Frogwing, alongside this furrowed field. Frogwing looks natural here, where the Vespa would provide some interesting visual contrast. Well, we will find out soon enough…

70th Street turned into Military Road, which we followed to Bailey Road and Maxwell, getting into the `burbs once again. The sun was down by then, and the rest of the ride was a simple exercise in tail-light avoidance. I arrived home both exhausted and exhilarated, and well-fed into the bargain.

The girls debriefed me, and I fell into bed. Nothing like a good Ramble Plan to inspire sweet dreams.