The stay at the Moreland Farm put lots of wind back in my sails. The tire is holding air and the rest we got there was much needed. With an early start, I say good-bye to the DR boys and set off west toward the Oklahoma panhandle. The morning is cool and the humidity had blown through overnight leaving a crisp, blue sky and a steady breeze.

Passing through alfalfa, soybean, and wheat fields, large wind turbines appear on the horizon. The midwst is littered with these things these days and it’s become quite the industry. When I was a boy, I scratch-built a model of one for a seventh grade science project. I’d seen a story about one on PM Magazine — a television show about various subjects. I used fire place matches to build the tower, an electric motor from a hair dryer to spin the blades, the rubber noses off a couple of badminton shuttlecocks for the hub on the rotor and back of the generator, and I built a cardboard building at its base to house the battery which was wired to the hair dryer motor. Since the hair dryer motor was 120v AC, a 1.5v D cell battery moved it pretty slow, but it was still a little fast for scale. Still it was pretty good for a 12 year old. I won. Seeing these wind turbines everywhere brings back that memory.

The road requires my full attention. It’s rutted and washed out in spots and more than once a big section of washout surprises me and has me soaking up some front wheel swallowing bumps. It’s makes the riding tedious, but the riding is why we’re here. Why fight it?

In the planning  phases of this trip, I’d found there is a large salt flat in Oklahoma of all places. I’d never heard of it and decided I wanted to see it. It is about 20 miles south of the TAT so I make the turn south to have a look. It is already beginning to warm up, but the air is dry and I’m still comfortable. Turns out, the driving route thing the park service has set up dumps you out on the highway, effectively kicking you out of the park. The section it takes you through is little more than marshland and, to be frank, boring. 

I decide it isn’t worth the effort to backtrack on the highway to the entrance of the wildlife refuge and point the bike toward Cherokee……Oklahoma. The highway on the 690 is horrible. The bike has the power to handle it with no issue. It’s just not what it’s made for. I don’t like it at all. 50MPH is about as fast as I want to go on her. There’s about 10 miles of 65MPH speed limit to get to Cherokee, OK. I stick it out going 55MPH since there is plenty of opportunity for vehicles to pass me and pass me they do. I even got passed by pick-ups towing travel trailers. I’m not proud. 

Many times when I do a search online for something Cherokee-related, Cherokee, OK would show up in the form. And here I am, in Cherokee, OK. Not a whole lot going on here, just gas and food….and some nice homes. So now, when I do that online search and Cherokee, OK pops up in the form, I can say I’ve been there, too.