Newton, KS and some Crazy Bike Adventures

Erick - I'm just tickled pink that you spent all that time and effort to post on the blog. Keep up the good work, and I'll see to it you get more postcards!

The last few days have been quite exhilarating, but I'm glad they are over. I'd been hearing a rattle coming from my back wheel and my shifting was giving me some problems for a couple of days, so I had the most mechanically minded member (alliteration?) of our group, a Canadian named Ray, take a look. He proceeded to true my back wheel, which basically consists of tightening and loosening the spokes until the wheel is centered on the rim. He noticed that my rim had some cracks developing in it, and told me to get it replaced ASAP. Luckily, we were planning on heading to Pittsburg, KS that evening where we would have a rest day and a bike shop, so all my troubles would soon be over, or so I thought.

In Pittsburg, not only were there about 20 people from the Transam route (14 from my group) interested in bike tweaks, but the bike owner was in charge of a giant race the next day - a race across Kansas. The point it, Roger, the scatter-brained cycling-enthusiast bike mechanic was incredibly overwhelmed, even with 3 to 4 twenty-something friends helping him out in the afternoons. Roger was an attractively bald, well - built, middle aged man with a slight speach impediment, red a blue mesh clothing and a warm smile. The reason I'm calling him a scatter-brain is because he was nearly incapable, and I mean incapable of doing any work in the shop before his cronies arrived because every 5 minutes the phone would ring, or someone would walk in to check out a bike, or his leg would itch and he would leave his post and attend any distracting desire he might have. Our crew took a day off in Pittsburg, so I figured he would be able to fix the bike up really nicely (I also need a new cassette and chain). The day before, I had heard of some poor fellow having to wait all day for Roger to fix his brakes and headset but since he promised he'd stay late and have it all set up first thing in the morning for me when the shop opened at 10, I thought nothing of it and thought: "now here's a guy who works hard and sets realistic goals for himself."

After telling me it would be ready at 10 am on the morning we were supposed to leave, he quickly adjusted his time frame to just after noon when I arrived at 10 and he hadn't started working yet. Will and I ran off to get breakfast, and returned at 12:30 only to find he still hadn't started. After probing him a little, we realized he had no intention of ever fixing up the bike! Our team leader, Jack, who is also quite a skilled mechanic was pretty outraged over the phone to hear that the shop was taking such poor care of us. The rest of the team had left before 8 and Jack clearly wished he would have taken the time before to fix my bike himself. Around 2, some of Roger's minions arrived and work actually started to be accomplished. I was all packed up to leave just before 5 pm, and Will announces: "Well, we're off to Chanute". Roger replies, "Really, that's 65 miles away!" and actually appeared to feel bad for us, as if he had no idea we'd been waiting all day in his shop and were incredibly frustrated at his non-committal working antics. If he'd said it wouldn't be ready until the evening, I would have had no problem and entertained myself for another day, maybe even taken an afternoon nap. Luckily, another Transam guy, Dennis, hung out with Will and I, so it was actually a pretty good wait, all things considering.

Half a mile down the road, we turn around because my chain is skipping terribly, and after a new middle chain ring, we're off the road again, this time it's after 7pm. Will and I decide to see how far we can get, and after a stop at the famous chicken place "Chicken Annies" which was featured on a food network show comparing fried chicken in Kansas, and 3 different offers for a place to stay, we headed on our way. Will classically stated that, although he may not have brought the best sleeping bag, bike, tent or clothes for the trip, he prepared especially well for night riding. The constant banter that occurs on the trip usually has to do with what we brought, or should have brought, or shouldn't have brought, or need to buy/order/attain on the trip before it's over. His car-headlamp surrogate front headlight, coupled with a blinding headlamp which I sported, served to not only allow us to be seen my cars but actually gave us the ability to see the road, scenary, and nearly everything else quite well.

Night riding is especially nice in Kansas; I've heard firsthand it's one of the things a transamerican cyclist "needs to do at some point." The wind in Kansas is especially bad - the prevailing wind, according to all the rumors, is west to east which encourages most cyclists to start on the west coast. However, according to people who have actually done the trip, fellow tourers and my own experience, I'm convinced the rumors are just that, rumors. Surprisingly, the majority of wind has been tailwind so far through Kansas, which is just what every good cyclist craves. Anyhow, Will and I cruised along, seeing very few cars and coming to several conclusions about night riding.

First, night riding is especially exhausting. After waiting around for 8 hours in a bike shop all day, we both were extremely sleepy during the ride. Around 10:30pm, well passed our usual bed time, we lied down in the town of Walnut to rest, seriously thought about pitching tents and continuing in the morning, but somehow mustered strength to keep moving. Usually, you have a good sense of hunger, and exhaustion baseing these upon the sun; as it sets, or moves in the sky, your mind quickly connects that movement with the passing of time. As a side note, I never quite understood how ancient civilizations could worship the sun until this trip. It occured to me, especially after an overcast day and storm, how vital the sun really is: providing warmth and drying clothes; ancient monks used to bake with the heat of the sun on hot days! When it rains, or snows, or is cloudy, none of this is possible, but when the sun is out, God's face shines down and all the world smells of flowers and fresh fruit. The moral of the story is that when you ride at night, you have no sense of time, or how tired you are if you're used to measuring in a certain way. Will had absolutely no concept of how far we were going since he always uses his computer and couldn't see it at night. Since I don't have a computer, I've actually developed an acute sense of time and space, giving me the ability to sense how far we've gone, how many miles until we reach the next turn, and roughly what time it is, even without the sun.

Secondly, night riding is frightening. During the daytime, all sorts of roadkill litters and wreaks up the roadway, disgusting cyclists with a rancid stench imperceptible by car. I'd often wondered when the killing of these critters actually occurs, and after riding at night I no longer wonder. All sorts of rodents, snakes, raccoons, armadillos and anything else that disgusts any normal person scampers, slithers and sprints across the roadways at night. Beyond that, some of you may remember hearing about the scary dogs in Kentucky. In Kansas, several dogs chased the two of us, and dogs at night are ten times scarier. You have no conception of how big, nasty and rabid they might be until they're right on top of you. I remember one lot especially where a squeaky dog barked and seemed to be getting farther away as we passed by a large Midwestern house. Whew, I thought, finally a dog that doesn't want to chase me. Moments later, a much larger dog than could have made the high pitched wheeze raced up behind and scared the dickens out of me, as I yelled "Back!" and Will hollered "Go home!" in our feeble, mean-spirited voices meant to frighten the dogs long enough to allow a safe passing past the edge of their well-guarded domain.

Thirdly, night biking is fun! There are very few cars, no one is around, no wind bothers you, the heat of the day is non-existent, no distractions abound, and the cool night air calmly guides you mile after mile. Clearly you can't see anything, but Will and I had such great conversations while we chatted, and even enjoyed the slowly drudgery as the clock passed one o'clock, just before we pulled into camp. Around 12:15, a car pulled up behind us as we were still several miles outside of our destination on highway 39. I turned my head (I was riding behind Will since he has the super bright light) and noticed a car slowly rolling behind us with some odd lights attached. I waved him past, thinking he was waiting to pass us until we got over a hill so he could see if any cars were coming. He must have cruised behind us for several minutes before I complained to Will about the dumb car that was blinding us from behind. I turned again and noticed it was a Cop - for some reason it didn't occur to me he was attempting to pull us over. I told Will that even his flashers were on. Apparently only one brain was working that late at night because he had us pulled over immediately; apparently Jack, our fearless leader, had the police out looking for us just to make sure we made it in safe. Believe it or not, another police officer pulled us over down the road, which certainly made for a slightly better story: not just one copper but a couple!

Anyways, all this happened a few days ago, and yesterday was a really rough day: 74 miles with an aggravating headwind to battle for part of the day from Rosalla to Cassoday (17 miles of difficult cycling). Ironically, I was heading to Church, and hadn't planned on a gusty 17 miles so every minute I pedeled slowly was a minute I was missing part of church!

Today, Will and I cruised around town, quizzing locals on the best places to eat, which is by far the best way to get any sort of information, asking locals that is. Asking fellow cyclists is hit or miss; locals seem to know their towns really well, and many are extremely proud of their best food, museums, or hot spots as if they can impress the tourists. Let me tell you, I was quite impressed. Of all the "classic" lunch places visited on this trip, today may have been the best: 12 types of homemade soup, a delectable Ruben on homemade bread, and super tasty water (you have no idea how underrated or difficult to find that really is). I've long dreamed of designing clean-water systems in some third world country, all the while neglecting the needs right next door!

Other events today involved killing some brain cells at the movies, watching "A-Team" for $4.50, doing some laundry, playing Carcassonne, and enjoying a super tasty Mexican meal for dinner. As Will said: "best rest day so far", although he didn't realize it was the best because he spent the whole day with me! Yeah, its getting pretty serious.

Well, hopefully your eyes are bleeding, oozing and mushy from reading this tediously long email; I've done my best to give you a vicarious moment in the life of a Transam Biker.

Toodles,
Paul

PS: This wasn't a postcard, I actually typed all of this
PPS: Looking forward to Purcellville

Cooky's Cafe

519 Main St, Golden City, MO
Allan, Annie, Clara

By Now I'm sure you've heard of my important mission: find the best ice cream/milkshakes/pie across the country. Today we stopped at a place with supposedly the world's best pie; while their motto is false, they certainly had great pie and a wonderful selection. Apple Cherry, Hack/blue/straw/goose,choc,pecan,coconut,lemon mirengue, etc. Supposedly this postcard picture won second in the country for some competition.

Cheers,
Paul

So I have to thank Paul first of all for making me learn how to blog. It only took me 3 trys, 2 hours, and a phone call to a chick to figure it out. I just received a postcard from Paul 2 days ago and ironically enough it has hillbillies on the front dressed in some ridiculous clothes. And in his Paul like wisdom decides that I would be the guy biting down on the chicken leg. The postcards starts out greetings from Houston, MO. So our friend has made quite a bit of headway. I hope you enjoy the post and I hope Paul doesn't forget my advice to sneak ahead of everyone at the end so he can be the first to reach the Pacific.