It's set. The Salina group is leaving the Iron Skillet at 12:45.
TIME....................1:15
Here it is.............. FatBoy Heaven
903 N 3rd Ave Corrected address 213 N. Concord St.
Minneapolis, Kansas
(785) 224-5144
Corrected phone # 785-392-0804
Facebook page........https://www.facebook.com/FatBoyHeavenKS/?fref=ts
Web Page..............http://www.fatboyheaven.biz/
http://bit.ly/1uLkbOc
It looks like I missed my shot at stardom. While Terry Powell and I were pounding through the dirt back roads the press showed up and did some filming of the ROMEOs when they gathered at the Iron Skillet. My dreams of a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame were shattered. It looks like Big Jim and Lyle hogged all the camera time. Maybe I'll lodge a protest for equal time.
Terry and I met at the Iron Skillet at 11:00 and he lead the way into the middle of the frontier for our ride to Minneapolis. It wasn't as brutal as it was last time. I think he was going easy on me. We got off the pavement and all was going well, but as we ventured forth into the wilderness, channeling our inner spirits of Lewis and Clark, the road got rougher. The gravel got coarser by the mile and with my street tires it was like riding on golf balls. The bike under me felt less like a race horse and more like a serpent. I was sure Guzzi had made the frame out of rubber rather than steel. We did eventually get to some hard packed dirt and things settled down some. Just about the time I started getting comfortable and let my mind wander the bike would smack me back to reality and remind me that we're not on pavement. I was finally getting wound into this and we discovered sand. My eyes were darting feverishly between the road and Terry trying to find the best line through the sand meeting with reasonable success. We soon arrived at Terry's childhood homestead where he grew up. Now I know how he knows his way around the area so well. Pressing on we got to Tesscott where we took a break which I was more than ready for. We stopped at the Someplace Bar and Grill. We were there as a group not too long ago. Back on the road after a refreshing break the roads weren't bad until we found the grand daddy of all sandy washes. Terry tried to point it out as he found a line through it, but I was too far to the right and too close to follow and went through the middle. I suddenly found myself vertically challenged as the horizon went vertical. Off I went of the right side coming to rest with a thud. It seems that no matter how many times I test it, gravity always works. I quickly picked myself up and hit the kill switch on the bike to save what's left of my engine. By that time Terry realized what had happened and came charging to the rescue. I was no worse for the wear and after we got the bike back up and did a brief inspection found it to be uninjured also. By that time the rear wheel was buried halfway to the hub in the sand and I was having visions of it only digging itself in deeper. I assured Terry that I was uninjured and got back on the bike and fired it up. It took a significant amount of clutch slipping to mussel itself out of the deep sand but I got it out and we continued on. It wasn't long before we were greeted by the welcome sight of pavement. We were just outside of Minneapolis and I trusted that Terry knew the way to Fatboy Heavan. We pulled up to find only two other bikes there.
As it turned out we were early and soon bikes started arriving in droves. Getting all the outside shots I could we started to file in. As it turned out we occupied about 75% of the dining room and the staff seemed to take us in stride. When I saw the menu on Facebook it looked quite mouthwatering, and I was not disappointed. The menu had many things to choose from making the choice difficult. I was sitting beside Richard and he opted for the mushroom and Swiss burger. I was torn between that and a BBQ sandwich. Finally I settled on the burger. When it came and I bit into it I melted. It was among the best burgers I ever had. The chips were exceptionally good too. They tasted home made but I never got to ask it they were. As we trickled out some gathered to do some tire kicking. Richard had his ice cream radar up and led the way to Bennington to scratch his itch. By that time I was pretty well spent from our trek through the wilderness, so I decided to head back home and let the dogs know I was still alive.
All told we had a turnout of 27 with the high mileage going to Denny Sexson from Hutchenson coming 97 miles.
The bikes represented were Honda, Harley, BMW, Suzuki, Yamaha, Kimco, and Moto Guzzi
The towns represented were Salina, Lindsborg, McPherson, Hutchenson, Manhattan, Minneapolis. Pottersburg, Lake Wilson, Canton, and Culver.
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