They had already established themselves, so I pitched my tent by theirs, under the Union Flag Ian had hung from a tree. The site was very extensive, much of it wooded, with a large shower and toilet block, kitchen and dining area and a covered stage facing a natural auditorium. And the beer truck - an old, long dead van, with a refrigerator pump in the front and two beer taps out the back. They continued dispensing (free, of course !) the whole time we were there.
Friday evening entertainments, after the meal of Mexican chilli with salad (for which I went round three times), were a band on the stage and video films in the dining area. People continued arriving well into the evening, while the band played to an almost empty arena. This was a shame because they were very good but most people were settling in, greeting old friends and meeting new ones. I ended up chatting to a small group about bikes, life, the universe and everything until 3.30 in the morning,
Saturday there was breakfast run to the Amana colonies, about 15 miles down the road, an area which had been set up on collective principals before the last war, but now was basically specialising in non-intensive farming, hence renowned for its food. Oddly I didn't wake up for the 8am start. This was a shame because Ian told me that the return journey, with the bikes filling the full width of the interstate at 100 plus was pretty entertaining !
There were a number of trade stands, same very tasty machines in the concours, a chance to gain a certificate in sidecar driving amongst the morning's entertainments. Unfortunately I had to get the Mirage sorted for the rest of the trip, which most importantly meant a new rear tyre. After the best Iowa City could come up with was an H rated Bridgestone, back at the rally I found a Michelin A-48 for $50, which was fitted and balanced for me by one of the bike shops in town.
On the way over to the shop I was just approaching a set of traffic lights when they began to change. It was one of those stop or go moments - as I was in no hurry I decided to stop. The bike was just coming to a halt when I heard an almighty squeal of tyres. Looking in the mirror I saw a large saloon sliding towards me. It looked as if my touring was about to come to an end, but somehow the car actually came to a stop, at about 45 degrees to the road, with two wheels up an the grass bank, perhaps 6 feet behind me. I looked round and the driver gave me a rather sheepish grin. I tended to check behind a bit more carefully after that !
Saturday evening entertainments were more socialising, video films and the awards. Ian, John and I were hauled up onto the stage and introduced (if there was anybody that we hadn't already met), and somehow I won the furthest travelled award. This was an the basis that I had done more miles than the others in coming from Toronto. Actually I felt that justice had not really been done, because the person who had travelled the furthest directly to the rally had ridden up from Florida on his Laverda RGA - 1,200 miles. It did mean that Laverdas were the three furthest travelled bikes - of course !
Laverdas were not very well represented at the rally - our 3 were the only triples (although an SFC 1000 did appear briefly on Saturday). There were about four twins, including Warren Dorn's immaculate SFC, but I don't think that any of them had been ridden in from a distance. Ducati's were probably the commonest, with Guzzis running them close, and all others (such as the turbo Benelli 900) just making up the numbers. There were a number of Ducati Pasos, in a variety of colours. One looked very good in metallic blue and another had a beautiful custom two tone paint job and distinctly non standard and serious looking forks, swing arm and exhaust system.
Apart from that RGS back in Delaware I don't recall seeing another Italian bike an the highway, away from the rally.
Sunday morning I did make over to Amana, I was treated to an excellent breakfast by a brace of Ducati owners (900SS and 750F1) - and a ride back at 55 in their company ! The rally quickly wound down as people set off for home, only a small group remaining by lunch time,
Comparing notes with Ian, we agreed that both our bikes were running really rough, so it was probably the stuff they sell you as petrol. I suppose for an average of $3 per fill up you can't expect too much. We were bath adding octane booster to regular leaded (the only sort available, 88 or 89 octane), but it was still pretty rough, and apparently even the leaded has very low lead levels. Anyway we all wanted to go to New Orleans so decide to go for it.
We had to wait until Monday because Ian had bought a cruise control from the bike shop, but it didn't fit so he wanted to return it. A small group of us spent a very lazy afternoon chatting, dazing and drinking in the shade of Jeff's large trailer (containing about 7 beautifully restored bikes) - his tow vehicle is a gloriously tasteless 8.5 litre auto, power steered Chevrolet pick-up.
At about 10 in the evening we decided to
go and get some food, so we rode into Iowa, in t-shirts, no helmets. When
we stepped out of the Kentucky Fried Chicken at 10.30 the heat hit us.
I loved it.