Missouri Misery, a Care Package, and a Meal Ticket (or two)

Day: 26 (Golden City, MO to Walnut, KS)

Average Speed: 10.6 MPH

Miles Cycled Today: 74.8 

Miles Cycled Total: 1609

Mood: Awed

Posted on My Facebook Wall by Amy McDonald

Tent Caterpillars 

The landscape has changed again. There's corn, and lots of it. There's tent caterpillars, and lots of them. There's armadillos flattened on the side of the road. And lots of 'em. 





I've heard from eastbound cyclists that Kansas is mental torture due to the never-changing landscape and lack of interesting terrain- heck, my map doesn't include a terrain section for the entire state. "But the people are really nice!" they make sure to add. 

Typical Kansas

The first 34 miles of today's ride were indeed terrible- the road appeared flat, and although my map doesn't quite agree, it very much felt like I was on the slowest uphill ever. The headwind was just strong enough to be annoying, and the scenery was monotonous to say the least. I was averaging a lousy 9.6 MPH. 

Also, both my front and rear tire were down 30 pounds of air, which makes cycling much harder. I'm an idiot for not checking before I started. Third time that's happened. 



And as much as I'd like to blame Kansas for this crappy start... I was still in Missouri. 

I haven't been in Kansas long enough to pass judgement, but as soon as I crossed the state line into the city of Pittsburg, things changed. As I've mentioned, the enjoyment of each day's ride is built on emotions, and not on the physical difficulty. Knowing that I had 34 (hot) miles to get to the state line with nowhere to get water in between, and assuming that something bad would happen on my first day in a new state... well, that's kind of a downer. Also, I expected to be hitting a 15 MPH average, and was disappointed with myself that I couldn't even maintain 10. 

When I finally arrived in Pittsburg, I headed straight for the post office, where my mom had overnighted a care package: a lightweight, compact air mattress (sleeping on the bare ground is not as easy as it used to be...), a new jersey, a nifty set of business cards with my contact info, and some bucks in a card with the phrase "...have dinner and a beer on me" written in it. 

Air Mattress

#greenjerse

Nifty, eh?

Card from Mom

That's an emotional boost.

And Mom, I tried to have a meal on you. 

But it didn't work out.  

Ever in Pittsburg, Kansas? Go Here.

I asked the first person I met at the post office where I could get a good lunch in town, and she gave me directions to The Brickyard, a local bar/grill. This place had the first decent tap beer selection I've seen since Virginia, and it was a challenge for me to order a Diet Coke. But I behaved, and ordered a fantastic meal (blackened chicken club sandwich). I made light conversation with Duke, the amazingly-mustached bartender, and asked for my check when I was ready to leave. 

Pierre (left) and Duke (right)

"No check," Duke said. "It's on Pierre." 

Pierre is the owner, but interestingly enough, he hadn't talked to me at all. Not two words. I hadn't even noticed him (I figured Duke owned the place). He saw a cyclist- inferred he was headed cross country- and welcomed him to Kansas. The only time we exchanged any words was when I thanked him and asked for a quick picture.



"Pierre likes what you're doing," Duke said.

That's an emotional boost. 

The new landscape that seemed monotonous for the last three hours? Beautiful. 

The 100 degree heat? No sweat.

The audio book I'd downloaded over lunch in order to ease the pain? Didn't listen to it. 

And I even happened upon a convenience store in the next town that sold the elusive cucumber lime flavored Gatorade (I've been searching for it since climbing Mt. Abner in Kentucky). 

That's an emotional boost. 

I sailed into the tiny town of Walnut with the same energy I had at the end of yesterday's ride, and found the park where I set up camp. There, I met Drunk Tom. He saw me and pulled over in his pickup truck- or rather, he just plain stopped in the middle of the road and wobbled over to me, beer in hand. He offered a unique twist on the Usual Questions, blending them together with comical results:



"Where are you... name?" he asked. 

I cocked my head, answered as best I could, and continued my setup. 

"How long <hiccup> ... going to?" 

I helped him out by asking him questions about himself and the town. This didn't help much. Tom was Barney from The Simpsons personified. 

"I lived here... <BELCH>..... 'scuse me.... all my life. Them toilets don't work... kids... <hiccup> ... <BELCH>.... 'scuse me... blew 'em up on the Fourth of July." 

In a moment of clarity, he did recommend getting a burger at the local... errr... only place in town. It wasn't hard to find. I'm pretty sure half the population of Walnut was there.

I chose to walk there. Ain't no way I'm riding a bike with Tom on the loose.


I brought my computer with me, hoping to get a head start on tonight's blog, but that's pretty much impossible to do when everybody stares at a newcomer walking in and immediately calls you over to talk. 

Nightlife in Walnut

Kim Curran and her husband Joe were the first two to strike up a conversation with me, and while the owner cooked me a cheeseburger (food in Kansas gets an A+ from me so far), we had lively conversation that bled into the night (they're both teachers too). 







I tried to buy them a beer.

I tried to have dinner on you, mom. 

But it didn't work out.

First day in Kansas, no problems whatsoever, and unable to pay for a single tab. 

That's an emotional boost. 

P.S.

Surprised to see a Hillary endorsement in the conservative town of Golden City, MO...

But then I read more carefully.