Day 1 & 2 – Getting there...
Kickstands up before the sun and throttle wide, I’m chasing the Black Hills—Sturgis-bound, but not in any straight line. Gotta rack up some “50 Rides 1 Nation” and “15 for 25” coins, which means taking the long way Northwest and soaking in as many backroad curves and roadside legends as possible.
Day One starts in Murfreesboro, TN, with the kind of bittersweet “see ya later” every biker knows: the tug to stay, the itch to roll. The Natchez Trace Parkway is the perfect launch, all chill vibes and open tarmac winding south to Tupelo. Elvis country, but I didn’t linger—rode through in May, and The King can wait for my encore another day.
Alabama, though? That state’s got a thing for bikers and rain—every trip, and this one’s no exception. From Tennessee into Mississippi, it’s a steady drizzle. Not cold, just enough to fog your visor and drown out the banjo playlist.
No stops, no detours, just pushing through the soggy, then muggy Delta.
Truth be told, Day One is all about burning miles and not much to write home about—except for one soul-crushing twist: overnight in a dry county. You roll 566 miles, sweat through your gear, and the only thing on tap is disappointment. Cheers to that, I guess.
Day Two, I’m rolling out before dawn—gotta beat the heat and the cages.
Two coin stops before breakfast, chasing that early morning cool before the sun gets mean. Hit the Pigtail Scenic Highway (AR-23) and the legendary Oark Cafe—place was locked up tight, but I get it, not everyone keeps biker hours.
Oh yeah, it’s Sunday morning, too. The ride, though? Pure gold. Twists, turns, no traffic, throttle therapy at its best. Already grinning for the GoPro.
By midday, I’m gunning for Lake Ozark, hoping for less traffic and more wind in my face. No such luck—the place is rammed, wall-to-wall RVs and slowpokes. I squeeze through to Bagnell Dam, snap the proof pic, choke down some trail mix, and split.
No café pit stop when the sun’s baking the tarmac and every bench is taken. Shade’s a luxury I’m not getting today, so it’s full throttle into the heat—helmet vents wide, jacket flapping, sweat stinging my eyes. Welcome to summer, biker style.
Leaving the lake, the roads straighten out, and I’m blasting past endless cornfields. Clouds are stacking up on the horizon—could be trouble, could be relief. But there’s one more coin in the bag: hit the Flint Hills Scenic Byway, grab the shot at the visitor center, and roll out through the tallgrass prairie just as the evening sun sets the whole world gold.
Landing in Manhattan, KS, the day’s got a happy ending: it’s not a dry county. Raise a can of PBR to the ride, the roads, and the sweet, sweet taste of victory—and yes, even cheap beer tastes like top shelf after a day like that. Tomorrow? Another sunrise, more miles, and hopefully a cold one with my buddy Ken at the end instead of another “cheers to nothing” in a dry town.
Ride on, brothers and sisters. Sturgis is just getting started.
Roaming Cage Free 
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