Most old farmsteads through this region of Iowa have been taken over by Mennonites (sorta like Amish) immigrants. All the farms have horses and buggies parked out front, and they ride bicycles on the blacktop. My '61 XLCH whizzes by in a heavy crosswind.
The Mennonites are in their gardens, pulling weeds and planting fresh vegetables - and I'm stopping at The Town Pump for an order of greasy fries, ketchup, ranch and a couple icy cold Miller High Life beers. My gas tank is coming loose.
I take the "river road" . . . an 8 mile stretch along the Cedar River. This road gets flooded easily during high water, so it has a few cracks and damage - perfect for Sportsters !
These small hick towns can't afford standard street signs, and most homes have wells (no water towers) It's America.
I stopped at Darrel Klunder's and borrowed some tools to tighten my tank. This ol' girl has been my motorcycle for about 25 years . . . and it just runs so good. I cranked it up to about 68mph for the run home. I didn't see a soul on the road, just me and my bike, leathers down on the tank, gauntlets flappin' in the wind, over bridges, around high-speed curves. The sunset sky a burnt orange.