The day started promisingly enough. I made a quick call to Mum, while John looked up a list of BMW Motorrad dealers for Gary, whose bike was leaking oil. We packed up our bikes and went for breakfast, with the intention of riding with Karen, Dave, Mike and Bill.
We checked the room and John drove his bike round to reception to hand in the room keys. Meanwhile, Karen’s party pulled into the adjacent gas station to fill up. However, when John got back to his bike, he found he could not disarm the alarm. Nothing seemed to work and, naturally, as soon as he tried to move the bike, the alarm sounded. We were going nowhere.
Of course, this would have to happen on a Monday, as no self-respecting bike dealer is ever open on a Monday. I tried Datatool’s website, but succeeded only in crashing the reception computer. There was nothing for it but to call Carl Rosner in South Croydon.
To give them their due, the technician was sympathetic and helpful and, to give John his due, he had foreseen possible problems with the alarm system, and had brought all the spare parts he had received when he bought it. All we had to do was to undo four screws and replace the bike wiring with the clever little box of tricks provided for the purpose. John set about digging out the plastic plugs that conceal the screws. The alarm went off. We put our fingers in our ears and let it stop before continuing. They eventually revealed four tamper-proof bolts for which a special bit would be required. Naturally, despite having each brought a fairly complete toolkit, we hadn’t got the necessary tool. Luckily, there was a good auto parts store in town
So, with every minor disturbance now triggering the alarm, John and I put in our earplugs and dismantled the power source. The box of tricks was duly installed but still the alarm was sounding. For the third time, we called the UK. “Ah, yes”, said Rosner’s man, “you will have to wait for the internal battery to run down should take about 20 minutes ”
In the event, the alarm stopped after a couple of minutes and we were on the move at last. To be honest, so much time had elapsed since everyone else had left, that we didn’t expect to catch up. So, rather than blasting on, John and I calmed our frazzled nerves by exploring the day’s itinerary on our own. We followed the suggested route out of town to find a section of the original narrow ribbon road. We turned right onto South Main Street and were doing 35-40 mph as we suddenly found it. George’s itinerary warned of “some gravel”, but we really weren’t prepared to find ourselves surfing along at those speeds. The question was, “where was the ribbon road?” This road seemed to be mostly gravel with a small area of broken concrete in the centre. For a while we road along the centre, 
until we decided that it was actually easier to stand on the pegs and ride the thicker gravel to the side. It was only then that I noticed a narrow curb bordering the concrete on both sides. So that was the ribbon road! To be fair, it did get better further on, but we did wonder how the main group of 30 or so bikes would have faired.
We had visited the excellent Will Rogers Museum in Claremont on previous trips, but had planned to stop at the Gun Museum this time. However, time was getting on, and we really wanted to have lunch at the recently rebuilt Rock Café (devastated by fire last year) in Stroud. So we decided to put the pedal to the metal and hit the Interstate.
In fact, I-44 between Joplin and Oklahoma City is a toll road, the Will Rogers Turnpike and, as we discovered, getting on and off it in the right places can be a bit tricky. Suffice to say, we ended up taking a 3-mile eastbound detour before heading west.
After a quick snack at the much-improved Rock Café, we followed George’s itinerary through Wellston, where a bank in the main street displayed the current temperature of 99°F, and Arcadia. We pulled into the car park at the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum in Oklahoma City at about 4.45pm and parked next to a familiar Honda Goldwing and trailer.
We found Doug and Joanne inside, taking a break from the heat. The museum was about to close. We took a quick peek at the giant landscape paintings in the auditorium, and bought a T-shirt and mug in the gift shop. Since it was now rush hour, we took refuge in Braums’ ice cream parlour for half an hour or so. Then we joined I-40 for a fast run to our hotel in Clinton, stopping just once
to see the brand new Lucille’s diner, just a few miles on from the now deserted original in Hydro. It was late by the time we got in.