Leaving Missouri, I headed toward Kansas. From Route 65, I moved onto Route 60, aiming for Route 400. Along the way, I passed through several towns.
Riding comfortably along Route 400, I spotted a Harley shop in Wichita. Its official name was “HDD Mid-Continent.”
Without hesitation, I slid my partner into the parking lot and hurried inside. I bought a long‑sleeve shirt and a cool pair of gloves. Unfortunately, they didn’t have patches. Today’s total: $91.10 Rate: ¥113.7.
After finishing my shopping, I stepped outside and looked around the town.
… …There’s nothing here. Truly nothing.
“Wichita.”
Hmm… Why does that name sound familiar?
It was a name sleeping deep in my memories.
Long ago, in a bar in Yokosuka I used to visit, I watched a movie. There was a short scene—just a few seconds— set in Wichita. It showed a dull, rural Midwestern town. From that moment on, the name stuck with me.
It felt like a place that would never become stylish, a place that would never change. A town wrapped in that kind of atmosphere.
A town that makes you think all that from just a few seconds of film.
Kansas, Wichita.
Now that I’m actually here, I feel a unique air flowing through it— a sense of resignation, a sense of acceptance, but also a faint sense of struggle. Something like that… floating in the air.
So… my younger self’s impression was pretty accurate. Well done, kid.
I never imagined I would actually come here. I’m honestly surprised.
To tell the truth, I didn’t intend to come here. I simply arrived. I was carried into this town.
Maybe something inside me and something within this town were drawn to each other.
Alright… let’s ride a little more. The sun is still high. Too early to look for a motel.
The straight roads of Kansas stretch endlessly ahead.
To be continued…
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