I'm sorry for the late posting of the weekly world peace summit. I got tied up in sorting out the brake system on an 1800 Goldwing. We had a very light turnout at Spangle's this morning. I contribute that to the coming events of this evening. After extolling the virtues of several airplanes and and discussing Russia's predominant use of vacuum tubes and the most prolific user being American Air Traffic Control, we were able to get down to serious matters of establishing a time and place to meet for our trip to Clyde. Launch time is 10:30, from The Iron Skillet.
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Here it is
Twinks Tavern
325 Washington
Clyde, Kansas 66938
(785) 446-2107
Facebook Page.....https://www.facebook.com/Twinks-Tavern- ... CH&fref=nf
Web Page..........
Map site...........https://tinyurl.com/wd4hsez
The day started out looking pretty good. I managed to keep Fritz corralled until departure time. The first let down was when I realized how strong the wind out of the north was. That just kills my gas mileage. I gassed up and figured that if need be I can top off in Concordia on the way home. I stopped at the bank on the way to make sure that I had enough cash for the day. Most of the time I'll intend to stop at the bank and go blowing right by it. I felt rather proud of myself that I didn't do that this time. Wallet stuffed it's off to meet up for the launch. I was about a half mile down Broadway when I woke up and realized that I was headed to the wrong place.
At least I realized it before I got there and waited until 4:00 wondering why no one else showed up. 
Back on track I checked the time and found I'd get to the Iron Skillet with about 5 minutes to spare. I rolled in to find Terry Powell and Wayne Keeler on the scene. I let Fritz out to stretch his legs before we hit the road. In the mean time a few more rolled in. We launched and headed north but before we even got to K18 we encountered our old nemesis, construction. We opted to take K143 to 81 and north. That's when we really found the headwind and I could tell my mount was working harder against the wind. On the way to Concordia we found a bike on the side of the road, so we stopped to see if we could render aid. Lo and behold it turned out to be Emory Witt's bike. But Emory was nowhere to be found. It looked serious since there was a pool of oil under his bike. We figured that he had gone back to Salina with Duane Zook to get means to retrieve the bike. We pressed on to Concordia and stopped at a gas station to see if we could call Emory. Terry couldn't get any cell reception so I tried. I got Emory's wife and she gave me his cell number. No answer. I tried to call Duane and met with similar results. Figuring that they were on the road, we gassed up and pressed on to Clyde. Once on K9 we passed what seemed to be an endless string of railroad hopper cars on the parallel track. It seemed to go on for ever. But whenever there was a road or a driveway or a field access road the line was broken, allowing passage. Some of these crossings appeared to have the rails completely covered, leading me to believe that these cars were stranded where they are. We got to Clyde and I got Fritz settled so I could get the pictures. There wasn't any shade for Fritz and the only place to tie him was just outside the door to the restaurant. It didn't take him long to figure out that when someone went in, he could piggy back his way in. I gave up on trying to convince him to stay outside, and tied him to Jerry Jellison's bike. That provided him with a little shade in the bike's shadow. I went back inside To get the inside shots and found Duane. I thought he had taken Emory back to Salina so I was surprised to seem him. He informed me that Emory's bike had thrown the chain. Judging by the pool of oil under his bike I worried that it may be fatal. I placed my order for a mushroom and Swiss burger before I realized that the special was chicken fried steak. I've been having a run of bad luck with my burgers lately. They've been coming, shall we say, WELL done. The curly fries were pretty good though. I saved a little for Fritz, settled up and headed outside. A little tire kicking and we mounted up and headed out. Heading west on K9 my curiosity got the best of me and I clocked how long the string of railroad cars was. When I came to the eastern most car I realized that there was no track east of that point, convincing me that the cars were stranded and likely abandoned. When I passed the last car it measured out to 8.5 miles. If they'd give me all those cars I could make a good chunk of change in the scrap market. No pop cans for me! I'm going for bigger game.