|Outside Frank’s Diner.|
We were still kicking ourselves in the butt for not planning our big night in Chicago better and chose to ride Highway 32 along Lake Michigan into Milwaukee to drown our sorrows.
We skipped breakfast ’cause we wanted to get out of our Hotel Room and back on the Sportsters. (They always help us feel better.) The ride through the towns and along the lake is slow and relaxing.
Lori signaled me to pull over, she wanted to see some of the town we were passing and led as we wandered the streets. A few turns later we approached an interesting building. It looked like a very old trolly or train car with tables and people out front. My heart’s pounding when Lori pulls over and says, “This looks like something you’d like.”
Franks Diner was dragged into Kenosha by horses in 1926 and has been serving great food ever since. The place tiny and crowded. It’s loud, it’s busy, and if you don’t follow the directions of staff and management you are sharply reprimanded. There are signs such as “If you’re in a hurry leave now!” and they mean it. We were there nearly two hours and enjoyed every minute.
Believe it or not our Breakfast at Franks Diner more than made up for missing our night in Chicago.
We left Kenosha with about forty miles to go and “Squawls Ahead”, big Squawls. We got drenched south of Racine and stopped to put rain gear on. The guy at the gas station said it should pass quickly and we could wait it out. He was right and we were back on the road shortly.
We got about twenty miles when it started again…and this one was bigger. We pulled over again to wait this one out. We weren’t going to show up in Milwaukee with wet boots!
I pulled into the Hotel and luckily Rusty was in the driveway. His old football training and having a million kids saved the day. As I looked over my shoulder
Lori passed and was looking the other way! Like a cheetah he sprinted down the street after her, yelling at the top of his lungs! Luckily she heard him at the end of the block. In another twenty yards he’d have tackled her!
We registered, parked the bikes (first ones in), and checked the weather. Guess what…it was 66 degrees.
We walked over to the Safe House with Rusty and Corina and Hung out at the magic bar (called that because the bartender is a magician). If you haven’t been to the Safe House you should.
This morning Lori punches our mileage into the calculator and we’ve traveled 2575 miles so far.
Yesterday, our first day away from the Mother Road, we rode 66 miles.
For Lori’s side of the story go to:
|Little hosses al alone in the parking lot.|
|Corina, Rusty, and a cup of coffee.|
|Lori, XL1200s, and ’49 Ford.|