Ride to the South Pole

As Andrew said, "Take that, Mr. Hillary." Funks and I have now riddern our motorcycles to the South Pole and returned unscathed. Heck, it wasn't even chilly, although the parfait I had was excellently cool and creamy.

All right, enough of the foolishness. The South Pole is a little local ice cream joint up in Tipton, IN, Andrew's childhood hometown. When he asked me where I wanted to go with him Sunday morning I said, "You're always talking about running up around Tipton, and I've never been there with you. Show me around up there."

When we headed out it was about noon and neither of us had eaten breakfast, so I suggested we head towards any sort of destination that served food...and ice cream, if possible. Funks suggested the South Pole, and I was whole-heartedly in favor of that idea.

Sunday had to have been one of the most exquisite riding days of the entire summer, although that isn't saying much as we've been plagued with rain most of the time juxtaposed with extremely hot and humid days on the rare sunny ones. There was absolutely nothing to complain about this day, however, and we motored happily past rows and rows of tall, green corn, and the low fields of beans.

Andrew took me past his old family home and through the middle of town where an amazing oddity exists: a dealer for Ural and Moto Guzzi motorcycles. Yeah - make sense there'd be a dealership for those in the a town like Tipton! I'll bet the rent's cheap though, and Andrew says he does a booming internet sales business as well. More power to him. I'll have to see if we can't stop in there sometime and examine the premises.

I had to call my ride short due to an evening engagement. It was a wonderful day for a ride, however, and I certainly appreciated it after having hardly touched the bike in two weeks. It did a good deal to make up for our planned ride the preceding Friday which we'd had to cancel due to rain, of course.