was ahead. No brown hills spotted with green -- pure white. Stopped in Rawlins. A fellow motorcyclist, Jim Ham, was trying to warm up on his way through to Denver. Cruel weather. I can withstand two of the three apocalyptic horsemen of motorcycling; wind and/or cold, and/or rain/snow -- I cannot, however, take all three. By the time I reached Laramie the bike was iced over and I couldn't keep my helmet clear. My so-called waterproof gloves had soaked through and my heated grips were doing nothing. I tried to get out of Laramie but enocuntered white-out conditions and had to turn around. This is the first time on any motorcycle trip that I've had to turn back.
As I write this things are looking a little better. I would still like to get to Nebraska before nightfall. This is also a first time (pay attention Jane Tunks) I am actually looking forward to being in Nebraska; visions of warm, dry winds blowing across I-80 and the sun beating down on me from high. Not the pleasant green of Ohio, but hey -- any port in a storm. Meanwhile, I'll sip my coffee at Coal Creek Coffee, stare out at the grey skies over Wyoming, and send a silent prayer up to the Rain God Tlaloc that he stop this nonsense immediately.
Bike Update: It is Day 4 of the mystery whine. I have encountered multiple stalls today at idle, even after the engine was warm. Definitely fuel. It's overhaul time, without a doubt, although the work may have to wait until Spring. I can do everything but the valves and fuel injector / pump myself. Needs a new tire, too. The Dee-El from Hey-el will rise again, though.
