Motorcycle Diaries: Ain't That a Shane

Those who are looking to South Dakota as an alternative power source had a good example of the potential yesterday as the wind came howling out of the north all evening just as I was making my motorcycle debut as a traveler. It wasn't pretty, as I spent much of the last 60 miles leaned into the wind all along the highway, cruising north along the white-capped river. I came west on 34 across central SD and crossed the river at Ft. Thompson, then up 1806, which was under construction, so I got to try the bike on rutted dirt and gravel.
My short-range tank had me worried, since I didn't gas up in Ft. Thompson and was burning through fuel heading straight into the wind. I didn't think I'd make it, so I stopped at the Goose Camp near Durkin's to try and scavenge some gas, and though the tribe's shop was open, nobody was there, but minutes later Big Shane Durkin cruised in and we got a chance to talk until Mike Ludemann pulled up. They got me topped off and I headed out.
Big Shane found great humor in the state of my saddlebags, since they had settled down on to the tailpipes and burned through the plastic bottom and burned some of the baggage. I had noticed this earlier and stopped and put out my smoldering socks and a pair of jeans that the pipe had burned through, but it took Shane to notice the comic hilarity in the situation. Thanks, Shane!
I will try to keep my sense of humor intact as I continue westward.