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The one that got away . Maybe we should have used Don ’ s Honda as bait ? This is a restaurant / roadside attraction on Route 2 in Minnesota .
DAY TWO : We pass through towns where the churches outnumber the fireworks stores , but only just . Road signs warn of snowmobile and ATV crossings , as though motorheads were just another form of wildlife . What looks like a largemouth bass impaled on a stake turns out to be a mailbox . Welcome to the North Woods .
We cross Minnesota on Route 2 , through a forest of poplar and pine . In the ’ 30s robber barons cut a 60-mile swath through the hardwood forest . The quick growing species reclaimed the land , creating an unintentional monocrop . The towns are relics . Wide streets and boardwalks indicate former resort destinations , famous for vice , fishing and other seasonal male pursuits .
In the afternoon , turning north , we pass farms so vast , I think , if the fields were fairways , each hole would be a par 200 . We pass farms with three , five and seven silos . We contemplate the wealth generated by the land .
We cross into Canada and decide to stay in Morris rather than push on to Winnipeg . Burke ’ s , the family restaurant across from the Motel 8 , closes at 9 but they welcome us anyway , letting us cook sirloin and T-bone on an indoor barbecue pit .
Lesson : There ’ s no such thing as too many stops . Motorcycling is a sedentary sport . Stretch your legs . Even people who have desk jobs don ’ t sit at their desks all day .
DAY THREE : The day begins with a wheat field the color of gold , a color you only find in impressionist paintings and songs by Sting . The day will continue the palette . It will end in a wheat field . Twelve hours straight , every hue of gold , tan , green and gray . Hay in rolls stacked five high . Fields of stubble . A hawk sitting on one hay roll surveying the field before him like a diner consulting a menu .
The colors change throughout the day , depending on the angle of the sun , or the time that has passed since the harvest . One field has the mad swirls of Van Gogh tempered by the cold efficiency of a Zamboni driver , the color reflecting the direction of the blade .