I was lucky enough to find a small drive-in restaurant for lunch in what looked like the kind of tiny village where I’d normally have to settle for gas station pizza. I had a yummy BBQ sandwich and onion rings. I was asked where I was riding to on my way out and talked for a while with an amiable table of locals. Outside, as I was getting prepped to go, Nathan (the younger guy at the table) came out. Somewhat flustered, he worked up to asking if I would like to pray with him.
I told him that if he didn’t mind praying for an atheist, he could go for it. He asked what I’d like him to pray for on my behalf, and I said, “Not to be squished by a Mack truck.” He bowed his head and earnestly implored Jesus to watch over me and keep me safe on my journey. I thanked him, he shook my hand and walked off happy. Despite my lack of religion, his act of kindness made me feel good. It wasn’t because, as he believed, he’d done anything that would have a material impact in my life, but in his mind he had done something real to help a stranger. Since, in my case, praying rather than actually doing something practical was of no meaningful consequence, I had to appreciate his sincerity, as misguided as I felt it was. Of course, if I do get squished by a Mack truck at some point, I’m instructing the executor of my estate to sue the pants off Nathan for letting me down!
As I continued through the endless tracts of farm world, I really started to notice something a little spooky. I was never completely out of sight of a building; there was always a house, a barn, a silo, or something up ahead. But what I never saw were people. Other than the drivers of the occasional passing car, it seemed like I was completely alone out there. At least now I know what a post-apocalyptic world will look like when I’m the only survivor.
As I was making a turn onto a new road (an event that has become a high point of any given hour), I over corrected and ran off the pavement and onto the soft shoulder. This normally isn’t a problem, but this shoulder was extra soft. My front tire bit into the sand, and next thing I knew my bike was sliding out from under me. I did my ungainly best to catch myself, but ended up doing a belly flop by the side of the road. Glad I wasn’t clipped in!
I was also glad that there was no one around to witness my ridiculous display of cycling ineptitude. When I looked up, there were three children of the corn (two boys and a girl) standing behind an electrified fence that gave off a dangerous sounding snap every few seconds. Where the fudge did they come from? They stared at me silently as I got up and regrouped.
“Is your bike okay?” one of them called out. I had to smile at this. In their little kid minds, it was inconceivable that a person could be hurt falling off a bicycle – heck, they do it four times a day! The real danger in kid-land is damaging your toy. A skinned knee will fix itself, but a busted wheel is forever. I assured them the bike was fine, waved and went on my way. I could feel their spooky little eyes on me for the next mile as I pedaled deeper into the Twilight Zone.
What I Learned: Never accidentally step in mud while wearing your cycling shoes. And, if you do, clean them right away. The mud gets all up in the grooves and cakes around the shoe clip. When it hardens, it’s like cement and you have to waste a bunch of time soaking your shoes and picking at the crevices to get it all cleaned out. And that’s time you could be spending relaxing instead of working!
Distance Today: 60 miles
Total Distance: 1,152 miles
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