Day One: St. Joseph, Mo., to Springtown, Texas.

Approximately 580 miles.

Ok:

The best place to start telling an epic motorcycle tale that takes you from America's Heartland to the very tip of Texas and beyond is from the beginning. So, that's where I'll start.

Six of us left from the parking of Hy-Vee early Thursday morning after stuffing a hearty breakfast down our throats and washing it down with plenty of coffee. Our group included Denny Villhauer, Gary Hall, Eric Keith, Travis Fiedler and Dave Lau. We later lost Gary and Travis along the way, but that's another blog entry.

Anyway, we pulled out in single file about 7 a.m. and rode the two-lane back roads through Atchison to Topeka, Kan. In Topeka, we caught the Kansas Turnpike and headed south.

For an epic journey, the first day's leg wasn't that eventful. Dave Lau did lose a doo rag and a pair of sunglasses along the highway, but the most vexing part of the ride was the damned wind.

All day, a steady wind blew out of the south, ruined gas mileage and made the riding hard. Plus, the Kansas Turnpike doesn't offer much scenery or excitement. In fact, riding a turnpike or any other interstate highway boils down to sitting for hours in the saddle, holding the throttle down and trying to keep your mind occupied so you don't space out.

But, south we went.

By afternoon, we were buzzing through Oklahoma. A few hours later, we crossed the Red River into Texas and headed for a town called Gainesville. Our destination that first night was Springtown, a small community northwest of Fort Worth and home to Denny's cousin, Chris Heck.

We checked our atlas and figured Springtown was just down the road a few miles from Gainesville, an easy ride. But, as we discovered time and time again on our trip, Texas is a big state and moving an inch on a highway map can take hours.

After a 90-mile trek, we finally rode into Springtown: tired, hungry and thirsty.

Fortunately, Denny Villhauer's family knows how welcome travelers. We were greeted by Denny's cousin Chris, his parents, Jim and Sue Heck, and a nice surprise Dennys' parents, Jerry and Sharon Villhauer. After hugs for Denny and introductions for the rest of us, we were told the bad and good news.

The bad news was that Springtown is located in a dry county and the nearest beer for sale was several miles away. Things were looking bleak. Then we got the good news. Denny's family had already stocked up on suds earlier that day. Soon, the Coors Light, Miller Lite and Budweiser flowed freely and I quickly adopted Denny's relatives into my extended family.

After eating at what would be the first of many Mexican restaurants, we sat around in Chris' front yard as darkness settled in and became acquainted with the Hecks and Villhauers. To a person, these are really good people. Denny's dad, Jerry, worked for Kraft Foods for 30 years, Hy-Vee for seven and is now retired. He has quick laugh and good sense of humor. Jim, Denny's uncle, landed in San Diego after a stint with the Navy and owned a business there. Chris, Denny's cousin, grew up in San Diego but decided to move to Texas because it's tough for a young person to exist in San Diego. Housing prices and the cost of living are outrageous and northwest Texas seems to be a good fit for Chris.

We listened to their stories, told a few of our own and enjoyed the stars in the Texas sky.

We talked until well after dark before retiring. Chris was gracious enough to let us invade his house and we slept where we found room. Being the shortest person on the trip, I borrowed a Kraft Macaroni and Cheese sleeping bag (it was the "cheesiest") from Jerry and sacked out on the love seat, my legs hanging over one arm.

I fell asleep listening to a snoring symphony from Eric and Travis, who had spread out on the living room floor.