Dogs!

Set my cell to wake me at 8:17am... nothing sounded and so I woke myself an hour later - I know, you're saying, "this mofo is resourceful!" but wait! Then I got breakfast with a coupon for 1.50!

Packed up and adjusted everything for the most comfortable ride possible as the worry that my butt cheeks would be raw by the end of this day had taken hold. I was also mildly concerned about the grey skies, but Wunderground.com confessed that there was only a 20% chance of precipitation and no one had heard anything about rain at check out. So off I was down Platte Ave/ Highway 34. It was a little chilly and there was a breeze and in now time I was utterly grateful.

I spied what looked to be a roadkill wolf cub (I don't think that they exist in these parts) and then I saw it's sister, the raccoon 100 yards later. I also caught a glimpse of large run-over snake- I imagined that it hurled itself into the grill of a truck one stormy night and met its exhibitionistic fate without even saying goodbye.

There was so much more corn today!

About 9 miles down the road I quickly reached the town of Brush. The welcome sign said only, "Brush!" A block inside of town lies a retirement home, interestingly named "Eben Ezer." About ten blocks East and over the tracks I merged onto Highway 6 which I would follow for the rest of the day to Sterling, CO.

Riding on Sunday was like heaven, probably cause everyone was at church or eating or taking advantage of their time and knocking the boots. The point is, that I had the road largely to myself and my increasingly painful butt.

After passing the town of Merino, I came upon a house where a middle aged and a young man were loading something in a truck and out of the corner of my eye I spotted a dog who was eyeing me and deciding weather to bite my calves or my hamstrings. Finally she decided and darted out towards me, and her cousin, previously unseen behind the truck, followed suit. All I could muster was a, "Hey! hey!" and as I slowed (I was not outrunning shít today) the owner yelled, "Hey Matilda! get over here!!!" To which I yelled thanks without turning around and only raising my hand in appreciation and hightailed it out of there.

There were lots of what I call, "cool wavers" today. They're the men we all dream about: their expression doesn't change when the lift a finger or two in recognition and in doing so maintain their cool while simultaneously transmitting it to the passerby. In my case, I take full advantage and wave with arm fully extended.

On the second crossing of the Platte river I could see a mama and baby deer crossing, unless it was a mama who had gotten funny ideas from Demi and her handy work with Ashton. Then as I went under the I-76 viaduct the state penitentiary shined like a beacon in the distance! I was home! The Ramada was right up the hill. The signs on the side of the road read, "State Facility near. DO NOT pick up hitchhikers." You can't drink the water in Eastern CO due to the high amounts of nitrates (harmless to adults according to the hotel) My butt already doesn't like me, I'm not drinking the water! --- Oops! Another interesting note: I just read the Sterling, CO website and it appears that not only should I not drink the water due to nitrates, but also I should stay far away due to elevated uranium levels! Good thing I spent extra time shampooing and conditioning today. Night y'all

Suicidal Crickets!

Opened my eyes at 7:30am and looked at the clock in my floral scented motel room in Keenesburg. The numbers seemed to say, "a rested body is a rested mind, go back to sleep fool! You don't have to check out until 11am." So I did. I woke up finally at 10am after dreaming that I had woken to a skunk nestling in the hay next to me... gross. My throat kinda hurt. Maybe it was because of the Airwick air freshener that shot it's noxious spray every half an hour or maybe it was from gorging myself the night before. Regardless; nothing a little Monster Moca Loca and a quick tooth brushing couldn't fix. I got my act together and locked the key in the room as directed by the Keen Motel's management by 11:00 am on the dot. I was out the door and on my ride.

Thank God/ Goddess/ Universe/ Rupert Everett that today was Saturday. CO highway 52 was relatively peaceful with conscientious drivers, minimal suicidal crickets, only one small snake coiled up on the side of the road, one nondescript dead thing, small pieces of wood, and lots of Blackeyed Susans and corn as far as I could see... which was not far, cause this was some tall-ass corn y'all!

I was honked at once by one of those assholes who likes to honk right when he's passing you. Then I was given a thoughtful two toots from a trucker and then... da...da...da!!!! Just when I was least aware two dogs scrambled out of the yard of a double-wide. I reacted by pedaling my ass off - I think I lost ten pounds in ten seconds and I'm sure that I got even whiter. I could feel them right behind me! Every hair on my body stood up so straight that it hurt when suddenly an elderly woman with snow-white hair passed me in her Buick sedan and I knew I was safe. I didn't even shit myself - I checked.

I was drinking a lot of water: Two water bottles and a Camelbak pouch worth. When finally I reached the Wiggens, CO rest stop. After leaning my bike against the white metal siding, I walked gingerly inside the shop where I bought a Lipton Green Tea and a Rain flavored Gatorade - I was attracted by the color here. I suddenly realized that two fellows (we'll call them Bud and Winston for drama's sake) were getting a kick out of my neon yellow bike shirt and my bike shorts. The attendant (we'll call her Jolene) decided to take her time at coming over to ring me up because she was embarrassed to serve my strange-looking ass.

After downing the majority of my new liquids, I took the liberty of lying down on the picnic bench outside in the sun to rest my weary buns. Then it was up and at 'em. Only 15 more miles or so to Fort Morgan. So I hopped back on trying not to rupture my screaming butt and hightailed it down to County Road Q. Upon reaching a cute little house in the shade of a big Cottonwood, I began to smell the most wonderful odor of home cooking and I was sure that at any moment a jovial woman would burst through her screen door and invite me to dinner, but alas, no. I was forsaken by the fact that what I was smelling was a gigantic onion patch on the outskirts of Fort Morgan.

Checked in to the Park Terrace Inn Best Western where the lovely receptionist was kind enough to direct me to Cable's Grill Pub for dinner. I had the most immense smothered sopapilla stuffed with beef and a side salad and like 50 waters. Then I went to Walgreen's to buy hot compresses for my tired butt. Now it's off to bed with me. Until tomorrow!

On the Road... Again.

I've already spoken with some of you today. Mom, Dad, Hilerary, and Whitey and Michelly-O. Tis true, I'm back in the saddle. Ate two Chipotle burritos last night and had a couple of handfuls of jellybeans and fell asleep to "the Minority Report" on youtube. Woke up at 9am-ish, hastily finished packing and wrapping, adjusting, cramming, etc. Told my father not to photograph me as I was leaving - to which he replied - click... click... click click. Gave my father the evil eye and went on my merry way:

Oneida st North to 38th st. Left on 38th to Newport st. Right on Newport to Smith rd. Left on Smith to Dahlia. Right on Dahlia to 56th. Right on 56th to Quebec. Left on Quebec to CO state highway 2 (no shoulder here - it was pretty dicey- got honked at by one fellow who couldn't understand my need for being there - nice). North on CO 2 to 120th and over I-76 - scary. Detour through Brighton Colorado. Back to Prairie Center rd which loops around some gaudy water features with bronze eagles in flight. Here, I decided I needed some tunes. Then finally to the I-76 access road (on the West side) where I only saw one dead cat frozen in hissing face forever and one small something wasting away. Here's where my butt started calling for help. The crops alongside the frontage road rendered some amazing aromas and I had the pleasure of viewing some beautiful horses going to town at the troff. Made a quicks stop in Hudson, CO where I bought a yogur bebible de coco and a gatorade from the nice lady at Carniceria la Mexicana. She also told me that I would cause a problem if I were to stick to my plan of riding CO 52 and kindly directed me to the other frontage road - of which I was unaware - telling me that she likes to ride her bike that way sometimes and that if I kept on going and going I would reach Keensburg, my final stop for the day.

So here I am in Keensburg, CO, "home of 500 happy people and a few sour-heads" forty odd miles later. I was pleasantly greeted by the same attendant who I had spoken on the phone with earlier who gave me the happy news that contrary to my prejudicial assumption that a motel wouldn't have WiFi, this one does! So I grabbed my key to room 3 (there are 7 or 8) and stuck in in the lock of the steaming hot, green metal door. Once I had daintily pushed it open without burning myself I was overcome by a fresh air scent from a wall-mounted device much like those of public bathrooms. Almost falling over from the intensity I made my way into the room. The decor is that of a redneck's hunting lodge with wood paneling, emerald green carpet, teal comforters a pleasant little vanity with dressing room lights and lots of counter space for guns and waders and plastic coy ducks and probably beer too.

After washing up I went to eat at the Rooster and thought of my friend, Robin's words, "Eat a lot!" so I did: house stake with, sweet potato fries, garlic bread and salad bar for 15 bucks. Later I went to take photos of the sunset and of the passing trains. Now it's to bed. I hope my butt stops it's complaining by the morning. Tomorrow we go to Fort Morgan - my bike and I that is. Night!

Well...

After biking to Brighton, CO yesterday, and sustaining a flat front tire, and after my mother decided to fly out to support my father in Florida where my grandmother is in hospice care, I decided to postpone my trip until my mother returns. Ughh! I'm now certain that my adventure will be cut short as time won't allow for me to complete the 1,116 miles to Indiana. Right now I'm regrouping and planning to bike only to Omaha, NE were I will ship my bicycle home and fly to meet Jackie. Maybe things will work out better next time. I'm overcome with emotions that I don't know what to do with right now, so I will stew at my parent's house and wait to hear updates about my grandma, Lovey, as well as take care of my parent's house and hope for the best.

Bike Trip Eve...

Montana is gorgeous! almost as much as my sister is, but not quite. Montana is also redneck. I can't wait to go back! Rock Ballads from Time Warner is also extremely useful when driving for fourteen hours straight, and my mom agrees... she couldn't thank me enough for hitting the track button every five minutes so that we could listen to "Kyrie" by Mr. Mister over and over again.

I have all of my belongings on the floor next to me ready to be stuffed somewhere. My odometer should work now that I've adjusted the settings. I'll have to rig up the head and tail lights somehow on my gear. I just signed myself up for health insurance so that I can be free to get hit by as many cars as I so desire and I'm currently drafting a power of attorney letter, so that my mom will know who inherits my Aretha Franklin CDs.

I'll be taking it one mile at a time, one breath at a time, one friendly nod at a time. It's Indiana or bus for this honky. Wish me luck!

A couple more things...

My youngest dear coz just flattered me by accompanying me to the Egg Shell for a quick last breakfast to celebrate our fast approaching adventures; he's off to University! I'm so proud of this young man! And I really appreciated being able to give him a proper farewell.

In other news: CO Highway 71 through the Pawnee National Grasslands looks to be too daunting of a 120 mile stretch as only one or possibly two bushes pretending to be trees can be seen sheepishly overlooking the pavement, and what do I know, there could be lions and tigers and bears oh my! and I certainly wouldn't be in Kansas anymore Toto and even more certainly would have no protection whatsoever from Tornados, dehydration, nor from starvation. Not to mention that going that rout would add a right angle to my journey which, as we all know, is not the most efficient way to travel. I think I'll stick to CO Hwy 6 which skirts Interstate 76.

I've now got my route from Denver to Julesburg, CO mapped and ready, complete with hotel options, campgrounds and bike shoppes along the way. Praying for friendly weather gods and forgiving leg muscles.

Still prepping for it...

Thursday night and the mind is a rushing running screaming calling yelling bubbling and sputtering away! I'm very thankful to have shared a Chipotle burrito and free chips and guac with Whitey on Wednesday and to have partaken of a margarita fuertísima con Midori with Hil at Benny's to say adious and hasta la próxima tonight!

Tomorrow will be my procrastinator's fantasy of running around to tie up loose ends. Quick trip to Bicycle Village to get some info and some extra tubes, lube, slime, and the proper pump (as I fear my small hand pump will not make the cut on the 100 lb pressure needed for the tires). Gotta say my goodbyes in my hood and double check with Joe to make sure he's on board to do some watering and neighborly vigilance. Then, it's packing up I go. When night time rolls around, I hope to make one last trip to see Whitey where we'll do a filming session of my dangerous dance moves so that Rusty knows what he's gotten himself into.

Finally, on Saturday morning it's off to visit Ali in Montana! What's up Big Sky Country! Hoping for good weather and pleasant summer meanderings with little sis and big mama.

Monday, September 24th is take off day, Universe willing.

Random thoughts for the evening:

Brazilian Samba is characterized by an easy and mostly pleasant melody in the foreground with a strong, demanding and relentless syncopated beat in the background.

In life, we've got to be pleasant, easy and forgiving towards one another, and must never loose sight of our ground in a relentless forward motion of the thing that demands every ounce of our spirit.

We are constantly asked to take risks in life. If we accept we can live with the pride that comes from a challenge (failing or succeeding both being moot). Sometimes our willingness to take on these risks leaves us empty. Whenever I am left empty, may I always find a way to keep from filling with hate resentment and discouragement!

G'night ladies and gents.

Prepping for it 4.

Bike, Rear panniers, handlebar pack, seat pack, pump, jellybeans, toothpaste, toothbrush, shaving cream, hand sanitizer, floss, antiperspirant, cook stove, gas can, undies, socks, advil, excedrin migraine, bactine, and band-aids.  Checkity check check check!

I opened the jellybeans to make sure they hadn't spoiled and to lighten my load a bit... I can assure you that if I eat one of them each mile, the trip will be lovely!

Prepping for it 3.

A noche I went to dinner with my good buddy Clayton.  He kindly accompanied me to REI where I procured a small camp stove and a gas bottle as well as... taaadaaaaaa!  rear panniers!!!  AND, thanks to Mr. Carey's keen shopping sense, they were only 15 bucks for the pair!!!  Off to pick up my bike today and to begin fitting the various apparatus on it.  I'm just worried that I'll have to carry my baked beans in a cheesecloth bundled in a hanky and tied to wooden pole.   Pan-handling has also been a consideration.

Prepping for it 2.

It's 10:34pm in Denver.  Just back from an, as always, nice evening with Hil.  I'm confident in my ability to make the trip within the time constraints.  I'm even more psyched due to all of the things going on around me.  My cousin leaves for Grenada on Sunday.  The fact that he's going so far away and moreover that he'll be studying in MED SCHOOL!!!  inspires me to make my comparatively small journey.  Making lists also really help with the mental part of all of this.  Now I just have to remember to pick up my new bike so I can start riding the damned thing!

Prepping for it.

"Ok guys, so here's what were gonna do..."

Thinking back to the seemingly irrational coaching advice to us "Landsharks" (yes, thanks to dear old Dad, that was the name of our team) always given during a soccer match which our team was always ill-prepared for, I've encountered a striking resemblance to my mental processes with regard to my quickly approaching bicycle adventure.  The first rocket that my brain synapses fire is "just do it!" (no thanks to Nike) and shortly thereafter, a smattering of shrapnel including, "you just have to keep going," "you can stop when you want," "it'll be great alone time," "you could meditate!" "just you and the road," "think of all the cowboys you'll pass!" "a story to tell the grandchildren, or your even your faithful dog," "you'll be fine," and "don't let anyone stop you."  So, I start to feel like I really am "shooting from the hip" and it's a rush that is worth harnessing for me.  Then, just like the second quarter of all those soccer matches when the other team inevitably scored the first goal, the doubt sets in.  My brow furls and I start mulling over the comment that the girl at the Bass Pro Shop made to me at her little register underneath the monolithic elk's bust, "That's so neat you're going to ride so far!  You know you should really get a good flashlight and ya' know we've got some mace and bear spray upstairs near the rifles; you might wanna get some."  I start to flash on the pained or confused or disbelieving or simply skeptical faces of the mothers I know.  Those magical signs that the universe has left me start to shake sticks at me:  my father taking a face-plant somewhere on his bike and returning home with the face of belligerent drunk who got into a tussle, my uncle who's in better shape than I who fractured his hip, and my own sorry self who was broadsided by some b¡™¢h on her cellphone just the other day.  And then the anger sets in and I f-ing defy you stars!  Bring on the endless farm country and the saddle soreness!  Yeee haw!

Here's what I've got so far:

A new bike that I've yet to train with.

A squishy seat that I love and my butt loves it more.

A Cateye™ LED headlight and a taillight too.

A Helmet.

A basic tool set.

A rear rack.

Sweet!

Here's the basic structure of the ideas that I've been having about the scope of the trip, more or less:

I might have gone all the way to NYC were it not for more important things (you know who you are).  So, I've elected to cut my losses and meet up with my friend, Ms. Jackie Wolter in Goshen, IN as my final destination.

The distance from Denver to Goshen: aprox. 1,116 miles.

If I were to travel 60 miles per day I should reach the target in aprox. 18.6 days.

My route out of Colorado is covered, as is my route through Nebraska.  As for Iowa I'd like to follow the annual Iowa RAGBRAI route for this year.  Illinois is a bit more complicated and I'm still piecing together what I can about that state.  Indiana transportation authorities have a very helpful bike map of the Northwestern region of their state, so I' can get myself to La Porte.  From what I can tell, my journey from La Porte to Goshen might just have to be winged.