Leaving Fargo meant leaving my initial plans of riding the southern route past the great lakes. Flash flooding washed out my original route and the weather for the south eastern states was heavy rain, tornados, and all around shit. no thanks. If I have to be wet and miserable, I’d rather do it at home.

Home was 700 km away as I was aiming for Thunder Bay. it’s been 16 years since I last experienced that route. I had mixed feelings. I felt like I was letting myself down by not following through with the southern route. But – the weather was nasty everywhere! So, with an eye to north, off I went. Again my phone took me on a round-a-bout way and was almost always in direct opposition with Gretta.

Gretta (my GPS) had clearly had her fill of adventurous routes. To be honest, I’ve lost faith in her sense of direction anyway. At one point my phone pointed me left onto interstate 71, but Gretta was harping about turning right. Not sure what Gretta’s issue is, but doesn’t ever seem to like what my phone has to say.

The rain had let up, so I went left. I’m so glad I did! The road narrowed and Jules and I sashayed our way around a pretty lake. Eventually I found myself back on the main road and Gretta and my phone were harmonized for another couple of hundred kilometres. The next time they were at odds, I followed my phone without hesitation.

I’m thinking my phone needs a name too. Now that we’re on good terms (read: I know how to use it finally), she needs a name. I’m thinking Petunia sounds like someone who needs things to be “just so” and my phone certainly fits THAT bill!

I took a pic of the Bemidji welcome sign as my only evidence I’d been there and continued on my way. I had a momentary lapse of judgement and followed Gretta’s instructions to turn left after snapping this pic. It was a premature left and, as we all know, no good ever comes from anything premature!

Stupid Gretta. She routed me through all kinds of fuckery and I eventually found myself driving under the Bemidji sign again anyway. I figured Gretta was jealous of Petunia given I typically favour her routes. I’d had enough of Gretta and I switched on my Lexin comms system so I could hear Petunia’s lilting instruction to turn left AFTER the Bemidji sign. Thanks sistah ;)

This leg of my adventure had me ride past a cute little country store in yet another lake-side area. I stopped right in front of the no-parking sign which, of course, I didn’t realize until I was ready to leave. I walked in and the four old folk (like really old this time – I’m thinking 70’s or 80’s) stopped talking and watched me stroll over to the dry goods. I realized immediately there wasn’t anything I needed, but with 16 eyes staring at me, I carefully examined the shelves. I figured I’d spent a dutiful amount of time perusing stuff I wasn’t going to buy and was ready to leave.

Before I could get out the door, a not-quite-Jim-Carrey-but-in-a-way-from-an-alternate-universe-sort-of-Jim-Carrey asks if he can help me. Now the 16 eyeballs are REALLY interested in me. “Have you got any stickers?” I ask. “I like to collect them for the trunk of my bike to show where I’ve been” I say. I could feel my face burning. On MY side of my very red face, I’m thinking “of course he doesn’t have any stickers, ya goof! Just stop talking”.

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me like that with his wide open not-really-Jim-Carrey’s eyes for just long enough for me to feel uncomfortable. Then with more energy than the task warranted, he started shuffling through the drawers behind his till. “Now where could they be?” He looked at me over his shoulder as he shuffled (like REALLY shuffled) stuff around and I swear it was like seeing Pet Detective all over again. “I used to have some stickers!” I started to feel hopeful. Maybe he actually had something with a state crest or something. I hoped it wouldn’t just be some random sticker like Hello Kitty or some dumb thing.

He had no stickers, but he DID have a plastic placard with his store logo. I graciously accepted and mentioned that I could scan it and get a sticker made from it. “Stop talking Deanna”. Now there are 18 eyeballs staring at me and I feel like I’m from some other planet and the locals are wondering if I’m going to pull out a blaster from my motorcycle jacket. It was all very weird.

Whatever. It adds to the adventure I guess! Not-really-Jim-Carrey probably thought I was weird too.

As I walked out, a pickup pulled up right in front of me. “Great”, I’m thinking, “Now I need to manoeuvre around him with my side case likely getting too close to his passenger door.” He watched as I put the placard inside my trunk, donned my helmet, turned on my comms, and tightened my gloves. THEN I finally look to the right and see the no parking sign. You know WHY there was no parking where I was parking? because it was the only way to access the gas pump. Good grief! lol! Oh well. Dude likely thought I was coming out after paying for my own gas.

Next Stop? The border!