The best way, we thought, not to get lost, would be to follow former Rally Master, Pat Evans. After all, we thought, who, having ridden The Mother Road, every year since the Rally began, could possibly know the road better
Each year, Bourbeuse Valley Harley Davidson, the only H-D dealer with the distinction of being directly on old Route 66, lays on an exclusive Sunday breakfast of Krispy Kreme Do-nuts, fruit, coffee and juice, for the Rally participants
and each year, we have apparently been with the only group of riders to get lost and miss out. With that in mind, we hooked up with Pat and a small posse of old hands.
The dealership opens specially for the group and breakfast is free. Well, ‘free’ in the sense that you are welcome to help yourself to as much as you want. However, few people who go there leave without buying the odd extra T-shirt, quart of oil or chrome accessory. I suspect, forking out for a couple of hundred Krispy Kremes and some nice fruit, is well worth their while. And, with such a helpful team of sales assistants, it would be rude not to
Following breakfast, Pat wanted to ride a bit of the old road: perhaps a bit that he hadn’t had the chance to see with the group in previous years. We followed a clearly-marked stretch for a while after leaving the dealer until a sign directed us across an Interstate bridge. At the T-junction, there was no clue as to which way we should go, so we turned right. Some miles further on, Pat’s voice came over the CB, “I’m not sure, but this road doesn’t look right to me”. “That’s because we’re going the wrong way”, came the reply. Unfortunately, it quickly became evident to the GPS-users, that we had already gone too far to simply turn back. The next major intersection was 40 miles on.
No one worried. We all had plenty of fuel, and it was a lovely road, twisting and turning and undulating, at one point like a giant roller-coaster, through cool green forests and pretty villages proudly displaying the star-spangled banner on every street lamp. “How thoughtful of these folks to honour my Birthday”, joked Pat over the CB, “I’m truly humbled”. “Say again, Pat”, someone cracked, “You’re what? Crumbled?”
On and on we rode, further and further from our intended path, until we came to a small town called Potosi. The various GPS units had been giving conflicting information about road names, so I pulled out our road atlas for no better reason than just to get some idea of how far we had ridden. Pat came over. “If I’m going to be asked where we got to today, I’d better know the name of the forest”. I found it on the map, the ‘Mark Twain National Forest’. “This is part of the ‘Lewis and Clark Trail'”, volunteered John. “Oh good”, said Pat, “Then I can tell people we did this on purpose it’s a sort of ‘make-it-up-as-you-go’ tour”.
Your secret is safe with us, Pat!
We parted company after lunch. I was being just a little too slow in changing from water-proofs 
to warm weather gear. By the time I had stuffed my rain jacket away in its roll-bag and bungeed it back onto the seat, the others already had their engines running. We said we would catch them up but, in the event, they had a ten minute start on us, so we didn’t see them again until the Eisler Brothers Store in Riverton, where a TV reporter was interviewing several participants about their experiences on Route 66.
Then we spent a few minutes taking photos at the Rainbow Bridge which used to mark the State Line on Route 66, between Missouri and Kansas, before heading for our Miami hotel and dinner at Montana Mike’s.