Stop - Wahpeton, ND
Today's miles - 498
Total - 6,581
I began this morning as the first bike parked outside of the Harley Davidson Sports Center in Duluth, MN. They opened at 9:00 AM. I was there about 8:15 AM, hoping against hope that the myth was right and they would bend over backwards to accommodate a guy on a long trip needing his oil changed. They actually bowed slightly which was better than ignoring me completely and I was out and on the road at 11:00 AM.
Because of the late start, I was eager to get to International Falls. I have never been there but have heard of it all my life as the usual suspect in the coldest place in America contests every winter. US 53 takes you there, and on the way, you pass through the heart of the Minnesota Iron Range. This is a subculture if I've ever heard of one. Fierce, rugged, independent, hard living, hard working, tough. And that's just the women. So I was excited to pass through.
It was hard to pass up a picture at the United States Hockey Hall of Fame in Evelyth..but I did. But I couldn't pass up the giant blue gill in Orr.
I wasn't expecting to have a spiritual experience this morning but I did. I'll tell you about it but first I have to set it up. This is for the sake of those of you who are interested, but especially as a word to the wise among those reading this who are also planning a long motorcycle ride. Here's goes:
Gas mileage on a motorcycle is a very fickle kind of thing. The biggest variables are speed, wind, and "Did you actually fill it to the very top the last time you filled or did you give up after the 50th little pump trickle so it doesn't overflow on your pretty paint job?"
This isn't rocket science (although it is related) but basically, if you ride faster you use more gas. Double duh! AND, if you ride with the wind behind you, you will get better gas mileage. And finally, if you don't fill it to the very top...drum roll here... you don't actually have as much gas in the tank to begin with.
Now all of this is very important. And I'll add one more thing. Even though I have a high tech HD gas gauge with dual trip meters and a deal that estimates how many miles you have left before empty, I still do the old school thing and reset my first trip meter to zero with every gas fill. (I set the other trip meter to keep track of how many miles it has been since my last oil change. I keep track of trip mileage on paper. In a notebook. With a pen that has a string taped to it that I run through one of the 3 rings of the notebook. Very high tech.)
As a rule, especially on a long trip, I fill up very patiently and make sure it is to the absolute top. I usually have to rock it a bit so that I can put my gas cap on without gas overflowing on to my pretty paint job. On this trip, I have started using the "miles remaining" thing more often. Usually from a half tank left on down. So on my last fill yesterday, I rode 237 miles and I put in 5.6 gals. Amazing mileage.
I am also a firm believer in slow and steady wins the race. I don't speed. And I don't stop. So if the speed limit is 55, I'll be going 62. (Quit it, that is HARDLY speeding.) I think you get farther faster if you ride slower and steadier. And you don't have to worry so much about troopers.
Trust me, you need to know all of that so you understand my spiritual experience.
So I get on my bike in Duluth to head, excitedly, to International Falls. I don't remember the details exactly but let's say for kicks that my gauge said that I had enough gas to travel 170 miles and that International Falls was going to be 163 miles. I knew there would be some towns between here and there so I could get gas if I wanted. Off I went. It was beautiful. What is not to like about riding through the paradise of northern Minnesota? It was four lane most of the way and then two lane and road construction for the last 70 miles.
At first, as the miles were rolling away under me, the estimated number wasn't changing as fast. The gap was actually growing. And I began to think that I might be able to get all the way to International Falls on the gas that was in my tank - and therefore I could get the official gas stamp proving I was there without an extra stop in the middle.
I remember the last real gas station I passed. And I remember the moment I realized that I hadn't accounted for the headwind I was pushing. Suddenly the ratios shifted. And eventually I realized that there was a very real possibility that, for the first time in my entire life, I was going to run out of gas in the middle of nowhere and it was going to be my own stupid fault.
So I told God, "OK, you see what is happening here. I was getting cocky and now I'm very possibly going to end up looking stupid, having to walk for gas in this heat, while leaving my bike behind. But I'll do it. I'm OK with this. I'm going to learn a lesson either way. If I get there, I'll know to never let it happen again. And if I don't, I'm going to learn to REALLY never let it happen again. Either way, I'm OK with it."
And that is the God's honest truth about where I am with God on things in my life today. I'm OK with whatever happens because I know that God loves me, that things will work out, and that every situation can teach me something because the Holy Spirit is always working on me.
But that is only part of my spiritual experience.
I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that the Northwoods Bible Church was listed to do road side clean up on a little section of road. I think that is nice. We did the same at my old church. We called it Roadside Aerobics. (Yet another opportunity that adults eagerly dump on to the backs of youth.) Not long after seeing the sign, I looked up and I saw, at the next curve in the road, a brown building with a white cross. I knew that had to be the church. (This is actually a picture I just now stole from their website, I was far too terrified that I was going to run out of gas today to take the picture live.)
I got excited because I assumed a church like I could see off in the distance clearly HAD to be located in a community with a gas station.
Not.
So I just rolled on by and that is when God talked to me. Here's what God said: "Kerry, I use people like you and churches like that to meet the deepest needs that people aren't even aware that they have. For their trivial, earthly needs, like gas in their tanks, I use gas stations."
That is all I needed to hear and I was completely at peace with whatever would happen. And I was grateful again for the privilege of serving as a pastor to people. I never saw that moment coming.
Nor did I expect to see a gas station just six miles from International Falls. The wind hurt my mileage but I got 255 miles to the tank (and pumped 6 gals. into a tank that holds 6 gals.) Lesson learned. Really. Lesson learned. Then I headed to the post office for point three on the Six Corners Epic 25th tour.
For many years now I get occasional emails from a woman in Minnesota who is an absolute hoot. When I planned this ride, I wrote to her and told her that I just had to meet her in person. So when I left the post office, I put Sue's address into my GPS. Unfortunately, it turns out that my GPS took me to the wrong Johnson lake road so I needed a phone call there in the middle. But fortunately, the twisting north country roads were a joy to ride. Who wouldn't love this?
And then I got to have a beer and a conversation with Sue and her husband Bob in their log cabin on a lake in Northern Minnesota. That, my friends, is the high life.
My next planned stop was going to be, of all things, my mother's grave outside of Fergus Falls, MN. She died in 2009 and none of us live close. I tried to visit it when I was up there in February but, as you can see, that would have been a challenge. I got as far as the entry road.
So this time I was bound and determined to get there. While it was still light enough to see. So I set my GPS for Fergus Falls and followed the roads it picked for me. I was pleased when we went right by Cass Lake. My children's grandparents (and their extended families) have camped there every summer for over 50 years. We joined them a few times. I was amazed to see such a large family (Grandpa Wadman came from a family of ten children) who could get along with each other, drink beer without getting drunk, camp together without drama, let the kids play cards with the adults, AND catch lots of walleyes. Great memories and they are still going there in July.
The various roads that wind through the Minnesota lake country are all fun. There are lakes everywhere. Beautiful views in every direction. Sue told me that there are 1007 lakes in her county alone! And lots of little communities too that you pass through. Including Akely, one of six towns that claim Paul Bunyan as a hometown boy. (Texas has Davey Crockett...Minnesota has Paul Bunyan. And Bud Grant.)
At some point I realized that the GPS was not taking me the same way that I would normally have traveled from Walker to Fergus Falls. I would have gone by Perham and Otter Tail and Battle Lake and the ways I always used to go. But the GPS took me through Park Rapids and Detroit Lakes and Pelican Rapids. (I rode past the lake where my Uncle Ron was scattered. He was a REAL character. I come from a long line of characters. I guess that makes me a long character as well.)
And that was my second spiritual epiphany of the day. I trusted my GPS and followed.
There are lots of ways that I let God take the lead in my life today that wasn't the case back in the day when I lived in this neck of the woods. God still isn't through with me yet. Which is why, although I didn't plan on coming to my hometown at all on this trip, when it crossed my mind a few days ago that I could, and should, that ultimately I did. As a matter of fact, I'm typing this from a motel in my hometown right now.
This town doesn't change much. Although it does change. All things change. But I change. And every time I come through here - most of the time without telling anyone - I notice how I never really feel like I am "where I'm from" until I cross the Red River and enter the city limits of this place. THIS is where I am from and I'm grateful to God that I'm from here...and that I get to ride away from here in the morning.
This is what you see when you look up in the sky to the north, thinking, "After I find Mom's grave I'm going to be riding up into that???"
Yuck!
So I hurried on to the cemetery where we buried Mom. I know it doesn't mean anything to her. I get that. But she was buried and she didn't want to be forgotten. She was a hard woman. She could be mean, sarcastic, vulgar, moody, all on her good days. But she also had a heart of gold, deep empathy, and a lot of people are better off for having known her. And I joined her in being grateful for God's gift of recovery in her life, that she died sober.
The last time I saw my Mom was at of the nursing home we just had moved her into. She had had a good week, getting a little better every day, and she wanted to come down and see my motorcycle. I had worked a visit to her into that year's trip to Sturgis. She was so proud of me, and of my bike, and of my willingness to come and see her. Three years before that, after I finished preaching on Sunday morning in Rapid City, I called her up and invited her to dinner. Mark and I rode 500 miles to pick Mom up and eat large at 10:30 at night in Perkins. She rode there on my bike. But there wouldn't be a ride on that last visit. It was hard for her just to come down as she did. That was on Friday. She died on Tuesday.
I know we all have lots of mixed feelings about our parents. I know I do. My sisters have deep Mom-caused wounds that they have continued to struggle with and work through and all of that, but I also know that none of us would be here without her. (Which, by the way, is always the ultimate Mom trump card which none of us can touch.)
So rest in peace, Carol. We know you did your best and we love you.
From the cemetery I rode the 26 miles west to my hometown, Wahpeton, North Dakota. Where the men are men and the women are strong. Tomorrow I get to ride across this great state and see some more long lost loved ones.
PS. I have to crack open my other jeans a little earlier than planned. When I kneeled at Mom's grave to pray the Lord's Prayer the tear on my knee got worse. I'm going to bury them here. Ironic, isn't it? R.I.P. Jeans....
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