Dear Diary, Well, we made it to Gilman Illinois. I have never ridden so far and through so many different weather conditions in one day. By the time we pulled into our hotel parking lot all of our wet and cold weather gear had become redundant. It was 75 degrees, sunny and dry. And so were we, so to speak. Which brings me to the next little tale.
After having registered for the room, deposited our gear and bags in said room and washed a layer of grime off of our faces, Scarlet and I decided to walk the quarter mile to the gas station/wine store to purchase a celebratory bottle of Cabernet. But, by the time we got back to the lobby it seemed as though every local ‘fella’ had been called down by the women folk working the front desk to get a looksie at the two ‘gals’ that had just checked into a room after arriving on their motorcycles. I would have felt flattered if not for the fear it produced.
Scarlett and I decided we would venture out anyway, since it was still light out, and we confidently made our way to the gas station/liquor store amidst hoots and hollers from passing “men” in rusty trucks. At one point Scarlett gave a wave and a hoot back and I quickly informed her that, in these here parts, she had just promised her own hand in marriage.
By the time we got to our desired location we were laughing and relaxed. I found a decent bottle of red and when I plunked it down on the counter in front of a middle-aged Midwestern woman I got a most surprising, but welcomed, response. As she scowled at my smiling, wind-burned face (more on that later), I became quite confused. I asked rather tentatively if this was where I was to pay for the wine. Her response was a cold and skeptical, “Yes, but I will definitely need to see some identification!” Completely dumfounded by this I asked …” Why? What is the drinking age here in Gilman,….48?” After helping her to find the DOB numbers on my driver’s license and stating simultaneously that I was FIFTY……she sported an awesome look of amazement I will treasure forever and asked how I managed to keep so young looking. “You are lookin’ at it sweetie!....red wine….a great pickling agent!” HAhahahaha, ahhhh I do crack myself up from time to time, Diary. Ok, Diary……Tomorrow we head north. Continue to keep us in your prayers… Tink
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