Coppin' a Ride, a Rim Job, and the British Invasion

Day: 22 (Chester, IL to Centerville, MO)

Average Speed: 11.6 MPH

Miles Cycled Today: 55 (but a 30 mile SAG... 85 miles traveled)

Miles Cycled Total: 1299

***LATE POST DUE TO NO WIFI... I AM NOT DEAD (this was written last night)***

Bike Lamp in My Room at the Butterfly Inn... Amidst a Plethora of Stuffed Animals

You call yourself the “Show Me State”? Hahaha! Go ahead and Show Me then. Show Me how you can top Virginia, Kentucky, and Illinois on my first day in Missouri! You can’t possibly be any worse than those three!

Pffffft. 

(that’s the sound of my back tire going flat AGAIN as soon as I snapped a picture of the Missouri welcome sign- no exaggeration at all on the timing). 

So I left the Land of Popeye, headed over the Mississippi River, and spent the next thirty minutes changing a tire- again- in 95 degree humid heat. Awful. 

Somethin' ain't right- the puncture wound was in the same spot as the second flat from yesterday. Again, I felt for debris. Nothing. 

I changed out the tube successfully- albeit with my clothes and spirits dampened from the sweaty mess that I was- but something in me knew this fresh tube was gonna be flat in about another 7 miles. 

I was wrong. 

It was flat again in 3. 

That’s 4 (four!) (FOUR!) flats in less than 24 hours, and there’s no way I’m changing it again just to make it five. 

But I was on a straightaway backroad in Missouri that’s lightly traveled- getting someone to stop wasn’t going to be easy. The next town was three miles away, but calling it a town is rather a misnomer. The nearest cycle shop that could fix this problem was in Farmington- 30 miles away. 

I started walking the bike (staying in one place only delighted swarms of these nasty yellowjacket/housefly hybrids) and stuck my thumb out to any passing cars. 

Nobody stopped. 

Why is it that everybody stops when I’m actually changing a flat and I don’t ask for help, but nobody stops when I….

AHA! I realized, I don’t look pathetic enough walking the bike. I look lazy… like I don’t feel like cycling and am looking for an air conditioned ride.

I decided to put this theory to the test and disassembled the entire bike, taking the gear off, unnecessarily removing the front and rear tires, and messily sprawling all of it on the side of the road, and I just dealt with the swarms of hungry bee thingies. I looked like a shit show. 

Bike Crammed into a Hatchback

Worked like a charm. 

Dave Roth was the next passerby. I held up my flat tire. He stopped. Dave was on his way home from work (he was sick, and calling it quits early). He works for a company that manufactures explosives, and I immediately checked to make sure all ten of his fingers were intact. They were, and that was good enough for me. As a former host of a cyclist, he was more than willing to help and agreed to drive me 15 miles closer to Farmington- he even took me on the bicycle route so that I could see what I was missing. 

By the way, if you think you can’t cram a bicycle into a hatchback car, think again. Desperate times call for creative packing. 

Dave, Who Does Not Admire My Brains

Although Dave was a bit skeeved out by my profuse sweating (and who can blame him), he allowed me to ride shotgun. He told me a bit about the history of the area and about his family- his daughters Cayln and Susan- are currently in a big production of Joesph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in St. Louis. Besides the food, good theater is another thing that I am missing out on this summer. 

Dave dropped me off at a Dairy Queen where it was likely I’d be able to find another ride, and left me with some inspiring words before heading off:

“I admire your spirit, but I don’t much admire your brains!”

Completely understood. 

An Undeserved Treat

After a quick sundae and soda, I approached three local deputies on their DQ lunch break, asking them if they knew of a way for me to get to Farmington. I flashed my PBA card from my uncle... but that didn't register with them. Must be an east coast thing. However, Chris Roemer- one of the deputies- read between the lines and immediately offered a 20 mile SAG to the cycle shop. 

Chris Roemer

New Sheriff in Town! 

It was nice riding in the front of a police car- especially with someone like Chris who was eager to talk and about as pleasant as a human being could be. 

LT Offered a Rim Job

While I’m disappointed that I needed the vehicle support, it was unavoidable (add another 30 miles to my tab that I’ll pay when I get back). At the Trans Am Cycle shop, LT noted that I messed up my rim when I smacked my tire against the road shoulder back when I popped the first tire. He had it fixed in less than thirty minutes, and I was on my way. 

Here’s today’s route: 

Today's Route to Centerville, MO

The ride from Farmington to where I am now, was beautiful and wonderfully smooth. Even with the hills and the overwhelming heat and humidity, I maintained my highest speed average to date and enjoyed every second- finally realizing that the road surface is hugely responsible for how well the bike rides. If this is an introduction to the Ozarks, I can’t wait for the rest. 

Butterfly Inn

But the best of the day was yet to come. Just outside of Centerville, I happened upon a man taking pictures of some cows in a field. I like to talk to people, especially before arriving in a town, and this was the right guy to talk with. His introduced himself as Tom, the sheriff of the county. I told him about my plans to camp, but he shook his head and told me to stay at the Butterfly Inn and to mention his name to the owner. 

Butterfly Inn

It wasn’t the absolutely fantastic accommodations for the night that made this great (this was not a motel- it was a fully furnished lovely country house). 

It wasn’t the price that Ron, the owner, charged (ten dollars. TEN dollars… He could’ve easily charged 150 or better). 

It was the company. 

Butterfly Inn (that's Andy)

British Bikes

Tracey and Andy

Two other British cyclists were staying there- Andy and Tracey- and their wicked sense of humor  (humour) and intuition was enthralling. Andy was every bit of Ricky Gervais (he even looked a bit like him) and Tracey matched him wit for wit.  

I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard. Nearly every sentence they spoke had some sort of joke embedded within, and it was difficult to call it a night as they went through every single one of my maps and gave me tips on where to stay and phone numbers of people to call when arriving in towns. 

These are the kind of people you want checking out your maps. Although I wish we were traveling the same direction so that I could selfishly enjoy their company, I benefitted from the fact that they’re coming from the same destinations I’m headed towards.

I don’t think I’ll take Andy’s packing advice though- I have no plans on picking up a selfie stick. And it’s so, so, so difficult to take a good picture when Andy says something hilarious just before taking it.  

Pick a Doll to Snuggle With

And as far as the dolls on the bed in my room? I think I'll be cuddling with Raggedy Ann tonight. 

Andy is nice... but I ain't gonna snuggle up to a hairy British guy anytime soon.

P.S. 

This is a Fucking Brilliant Idea for a Fundraiser

P.P.S.