Bucking Bronco

Today, our mission is to get haircuts.  We are camping at a Corps of Engineers Campground in Hampton, Illinois.  Beautiful campsites on the east side of the Mississippi River.  Lock and Dam Number 14 is in view.  We’ve been on the road for a few weeks to a month already.  I am ok growing a pony tail and shaggy beard.  Brad is new to retirement and desires a fresh haircut.  After a short discussion, we both agree that fresh haircuts would be nice.  We search the phone map and find some promising barber shops in Bettendorf, Iowa.  The first place we visited didn’t seem busy.  No-one waiting in the waiting area.  We were informed that walk-ins are no longer accepted.  We offered time slots for the same day.  We accepted the appointments and had a couple of hours to spare, so we explored.  

We ended up in The Village in Davenport.  It is on the Iowa side of the Mississippi River with some picturesque views of both the river and quaint shops nestled together in the village.  A railway passes by with the occasional train.  There are about a dozen small shops and eateries.  An ice cream shop called “Here’s the Scoop” caught our attention.  So we stopped and enjoyed a few scoops of ice cream before browsing the antique store next door.  We eventually got our haircuts.

Sometime while in Davenport, Brad’s motorcycle started bucking like a bronco horse.  He said it first happened after leaving the Corps Of Engineers Campground and traveling across the I-80 bridge into (LeClaire) Iowa.  We are now in Davenport.  The worn streets of Davenport has joints where pavement sections meet.  Vehicle tires make the clicking sound when rolling over these joints.  A clicking noise can be heard under the tires in a rhythmic fashion when cruising down the street.  Some vehicles respond by slightly bouncing over the joints.  For some reason, when Brad rolled over these joints, his bike would briefly lose power causing deceleration.  This causes him to lunge forward on the bike.  His front forks absorbing the sudden motion.  The his bike immediately regains power and accelerates. This pushed Brad back into his saddle as his iron horse rushed forward.  He and I were navigating a left hand turn from a traffic light.  I witnessed the front forks compress when his bike lost power!  Each time this happened, Brad felt like he was riding a bucking bronco!  Something was definitely haywire.  We ended up at our friend Brian’s house.  Brian offered the shelter of his garage and use of any tools needed.  Brad was expecting the worst as he removed the seat to access the electronics of the motorcycle.  Straight away, he identified the nut on the battery terminal was loose.  He tightened it up, and the bucking bronco was tamed. The motorcycle ran steady and stopped bucking.  Exciting story to hear Brad tell using his body to simulate the bucking bronco!  Ask him about it! 

Psycho Silo

This year, we arrive at the Silo to find a full parking lot in the early afternoon.  We were a little surprised at the crowd this early in the day.  On center stage was a Rod Stewart tribute and look-alike band playing.  A closer look at the crowd revealed die-hard Rod Stewart fans.  People sporting their favorite Rod Stewart concert t-shirts.  The energy was high with people dancing and singing with the performer.  This guy sounded and looked closely like the real Rod Stewart.  There were zero vacant seats at the bar.  It was standing room only.   I look closer at the energetic performer on stage and notice that the entire front row of concertgoers are all in wheelchairs!  Fans in wheelchairs parked in a large half-moon shape surrounding the stage.

Brad and I found the old grain elevator converted to an outdoor bar in Langley, Illinois, several years ago.  It is a unique ghost town decorated with antiques.  There are even small air planes in the treelike. Brad and I first visited Psycho Silo several years ago.  It was definitely before COVID.  We continue to stop during our trips through Illinois.  Our best memory was when Brad and I parked in the empty parking lot one afternoon.  It had been raining during our ride, so we had on our rain gear.  The rain cleared up, and the sun was now bright.  No other bikes or cars were in the parking lot.  We figured we were early because the hours are specific weekends only or something of the effect.  Brad’s pants were wet.  So he pulled them off to change them.  Brad is standing behind his motorcycle in his “tighty whities.” He is rummaging through his bag on the back of his motorcycle for a dry pair of jeans.  Before he can pull out his dry jeans, a parade of cars and trucks enter the parking lot.  Vehicle after vehicle in an obvious convoy.  It must have been seriously 30 vehicles parked around us.  The empty parking lot became full within a minute.  The newly arrived guests were well dressed in suits and gowns.   A few paused to watch Brad as he hurriedly puts on a fresh pair of jeans.  It turns out that the group of vehicles were celebrating a wedding.  The reception was at Psycho Silo!

Brad gets a kick out of the scene and points out what appears to be medical professionals in the crowd.  There were a few folks wearing a type of hospital uniform with official key card type lanyards hanging around their necks.  We discover that a nearby assisted living home had provided its residents with a bus to attend the midday concert.  At the end of the concert we watched the residents get loaded into the bus.  We heard a staff member commenting that their next event was nap time!  What a treat!

As a small portion of the crowd departed, Brad and I secured seats at the bar.  The woman beside Brad was guarding a flower bouquet that the Rod Steward look alike gave to her.  She was wearing a Rod Steward t-shirt and had her two daughters with her.  He daughters were being overly protective of their mother.  Although she may have been 40 years older than Brad, the daughters gave Brad the stink eye and didn’t want him chatting with their mother.  Moments later the trio began chatting with me.  That is how I found out the flowers were from Rod Steward.  Other attendees present were jealous of the lady with the flowers.  The protective daughter has a son who is the local sheriff.  She was the type who wore her son’s sheriff badge.  When she found out that I was much younger than her plus retired, she flipped me the bird and stomped away!