Day 4: Wednesday, June 18, 2003

Up in the morning, I looked at a map and set off about 8 AM to visit the cabinet-door company. Expecting to find a manufacturing plant, I was surprised when the business address I had taken off the website turned out to be a large yellow house in an older neighborhood. I knocked on the front door and raised the occupants, who turned out to be the company owners. They were a bit evasive about where I could find Crystal, however, and suggested I call the Customer Service number to speak to her.

Back at my bike, I pulled out my cell phone and called the number. First I got a message tree and had to push buttons two or three times, and then got put on hold. I waited about 10 minutes, but finally got impatient and decided I needed to hit the road. So I gave up on finding Crystal and hoped I could call her later on in my travels, when time permits, to place my order. As it turned out, I finally placed the order via email after returning home from my trip. I never did get through to Crystal by phone. Well, what did I expect? (If you want to raise interest in your company, consider putting a "Crystal" on your website. Exploitative, I suppose. But I'll bet it works.) Nonetheless, my order was processed promptly, shipped within about three weeks, and the quality of the products appears to be excellent. As a source of reasonably priced cabinet doors and drawer fronts for do-it-yourself cabinet refacing, I can recommend this company. You'll find their website at http://www.newdoors.com/.

Before leaving town I rode to the north side of Colorado Springs looking for Borders Books and Music so I could go to their cafe and get online with T-Mobile to check and send emails. I had looked at the map again that morning and thought I had discovered my error of the previous evening. This time it only took me half an hour of wandering. I finally located Borders just as the store opened at 10 AM. I spent an hour online checking email, getting frustrated trying to save mail, and drinking coffee with a pastry. Then I packed up, hopped back on the bike, and rode north on Interstate 25 quickly, arriving at my uncle's house in southwest Denver just past Noon.

My Uncle Calvin McClellan, now in his mid 70s and youngest of my mother's three brothers, looked about the same as when I saw him seven years before. We had a good chat. Calvin had a 1936 Harley-Davidson when he was in college in Detroit, so he always has some interest in my motorcycle travels. I remember seeing his bike once when I was maybe 10 years old. My Aunt Mary Jane was out running errands, but returned about a half hour after I arrived. Also, my cousin Patty who lives nearby was off work for the day. Patty came over. We talked family matters for a while. Altogether it was a much too short two-hour visit, but it was great to see them.

Calvin gave me good directions for leaving Denver and getting headed east on Interstate 75. I rode until I-75 connected to Interstate 80 in Nebraska, then stopped for the night in North Platte, finding affordable but comfortable accommodations at the small owner-operated Blue Spruce Motel.

Back down the road by the interstate there was an Applebee's restaurant. I went there for dinner. In the bar were many lively men -- sports fishermen, many of them, based on their conversation. Also many attractive, remarkably busty women. (I'm typically not a big bust fan, but these would have been difficult not to notice.) Three women at the table next to mine started talking about a wet-T-shirt contest at another club in town, and suggested I should go there. One of them, mother of the other two I suspected, encouraged me with the promise that the girls were all "corn-fed and natural." I joked, "Ah. Not like California!"

One of the girls -- a very attractive lady, actually -- said, "Not like Arizona either," and mentioned that she had just moved from there.

I demurred on the wet T-shirt contest, telling the ladies, "That would just get me excited, and I need a good night's sleep."

Guess I wasn't very interesting. They left. I finished my dinner, then went straight back to the motel, turned in for the night, and slept well for a full seven hours. I knew I had a long day of riding ahead on Thursday, but I had gained some insight into what the local entertainment might be in the town of North Platte, Nebraska.