BIKING!
Saturday 6-16-12 –



Louis and I made it from KC to Concordia, MO, about 65 miles. We camped in some trees by a Lutheran High School.

Sunday 6-17-12 –
We left Concodia ‘round 8am. About 10AM, we got to Sweet Springs, MO (see Louie’s shirt). We planned on going on along I-70 via the outer roads. A guy told us that the outer road ended at Marshall Junction, MO. We headed that way. The outer road ended an exit early. There, we met Ken Williams of Betty’s Truck Stop…that’s 10:30am. Ken confirmed that we would have to back track about 6-10miles. That didn’t sound fun. Ken gave us a ride two exits down where the outer road continued. What a nice guy. Shortly thereafter, we hit the Katy Trail via Dunkel Rd.
    We went into Boonville, MO. I was CLOSED! After a nap near a grocery store, we trekked on. We finished in Hartsburg, MO for an 80 mile day. We camped there, but not before we found a bar. We met a couple of old timers who were doing a short ride over about 3 days. They were funny, and they were also really into beer. We all camped in this “city park” across from the bar.
Monday 6-18-12 –
I asked a guy next door to the park where we could get a cup of coffee. He told us that everything was closed, but he just made a pot and invited us over. We sat on the deck of his caboose train house, smoked and drank. His name was Bill. We headed out.
    *My knees were really hurting. Louie’s were too. We rode down the trail toward Hermann, MO. We crossed into Hermann. There were a whole bunch of cyclits there. We heard that there was a public shower in the park, so we went to use it. However, the park was obnoxiously occupied by over 300 cyclists who were part of some a Missouri DNR trail clean up ride. We ate some food at a restaurant where we had a suspiciously strange waitress. I took an advil with some whiskey. We decided to cross back over the river to the trail to a town called McCittrick, MO. At a grocery store, we ran into this guy, for the second time, who was riding with his 8 year old daughter from California to New York. SHE’S ONLY 8!
    We got to McCittrick, MO and looked for this place that the cross-country-daughter-having-maniac told us about. He said that he was offered a free place to camp in a lot by a couple of buildings that some guy owned. The town itself had like 15 houses in it. We just hung around, cause there were many empty lots near a couple of buildings. About 15 minutes later a truck rolls up with, none other than, the two old-timers from Hartsburg the night previous. It looked as if we had missed the beer run.
    The guy driving owned this awesome old building with his girlfriend Joie. No worries, they gave us beer and said that we could in fact camp. They invited us in for dinner, but we had already eaten. Though, when we were told that it was 100% homemade pizza with all their own veggies, we had to eat it. FUCK! It was the best pizza that I think I’ve ever had. I mean it. As a middle class white guy, I think that that says a lot (I’ve eaten a lot of pizza).
    *They made us go and check out the second floor of the building. They had totally rehabbed it. It’s an open hall with a stage. It was beautiful. The wood work was totally restored, as were the tin ceilings. I guess that it was originally a hall from 19 whatever year. 18?
    I drank another one of the guy’s ice beers and sipped on my whiskey. I went outside to be alone. I met a dog. He was black and white and had two different colored eyes. H was so damn pretty, kind of spastic too. Really, he just wanted to play. I totally fell in love with him. We named him Skateboard. I told him that were he to follow me to Chattanooga, that I’d buy him Vienna Sausages the whole way. I really meant it. I hadn’t had a dog in going on 2 years and unfeasible as it was, I would have taken him home.
    I had to stop playing and go to bed. Skateboard was not into this decision. He sat outside my tent pawing and smiling at me. I waned to let him in, but I didn’t want to itch all night from his flea buddies. Cute Buddy!

Tuesday 6-19-12 –
In the morning, I didn’t see Skateboard. Surely he’d run out from somewhere. I went over and used the public bathroom on the trail. When I got back, Louie said; “Skateboard’s no longer with us.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I haven’t seen, but I’d really take him if he came.”
“No, Sean, he’s no longer with us. Look at the road.”
I looked. There was a lot of blood and Skateboard was laying dead on the side of the road. Poor buddy, he just couldn’t stop playing and running around. I was really sad. I’m sad now typing this.
    We packed up and went to the trail. I made some coffee and we ate some food. Joie even gave us leftover pizza and some fruit. Nice people. We rode on.
    This was our fourth day, and both of us were having knee problems. I was beginning to get seriously worried about the rest of the ride. We both took some ibuprofen that Joie had given us. About 10 miles down the trail, we were both riding strong with seemingly no pain. It was a wonderful moment.
    Wonderful is a word that I became very acquainted with.
    Just before St. Charles, MO we left the trail on the Page Ave. bridge where we crossed the Missouri River. This is the same way I went on my last bike tour. Our plan was to go into the suburb of Creve Coeur, MO and bus into downtown St. Louis, MO. I wanted to go to this house called the Bolo Zone. I stayed there before when my friend Ralph aka ‘Bubblegum Shit Face’ lived there. This time, I didn’t know who loved at the house at all, but it was worth a shot. Cutting through the city would save us about 30 miles. Hell, maybe we’d also have a good time. So, we did.
    We rode up to the Bolo, and a guy named Jeff was there. I said,” Hey, I got a weird question. I stayed here before, but I don’t know anyone here now. Can we stay the night?”
Jeff said yes. So we sat down and ate some peanut butter, honey and sriracha tortillas. Then this girl Mel and her French understanding dog showed up. I asked here where the beer store was. She was going there, so I decided to just walk with her. This was the first time since day one that I had really been away from Louie.
    I bought some beer and Mel said that she was gonna get in her pool. So we went to her house. I hosed off my crotch as to avoid ‘tainting’ her freshly filled kiddie pool. There, I met a guy named Pat and a guy named Tibbs. Pat knew my buddy Ralph. Tibbs knew a number of my friends from KC. We all drank some beer. Then I realized that I had not returned to the Bolo with beer. ‘Shit! Louie must be worried sick!’
    Tibbs and I walked to the Bolo. Louie was just fine. There were some new folks there at this point. I met this girl named Whitney who was going to be at the music fest in Chattanooga. She offered me a ride along the way were I at there by that Friday. Wow, now I had two back up rides if I didn’t make it in time. Folks can be so damn nice!
    Tibbs invited me up to his room to see this guitar that he had made. It’s called a quadraphonic. It had four strings and eight pickups. Down strokes would come out of one channel and up strokes on the other. It had two output jacks to make this possible. On the body, there were two real bull horns with tubes inserted through the inside and slits cut on the outside. The purpose of this was to amplify the low frequencies. The shit is insane! Additionally, he plays it left handed and it’s strung right handed. He’s a wing nut for sure. Before he built this guitar, he didn’t know how to play. He played me a few songs and they were pretty damn good. He had four 10” amps set up; one in each corner of the room. It sounded awesome.
    Later, I realized that my awesome friend Jack Groelle was living back in STL. I got him to come by the Bolo. He and his friend Slag. Around midnight, against my better judgement, we went to this bar called the Silver Ball. It’s a pinball bar. They had about 20 functioning pinball machines. I played a game and drank a 24oz Stag Ice. Then I got a 24oz PBR. I couldn’t finish it, Jack could.
    I rode back to the Bolo. Drank another beer with some folks on the porch. 8 people were still there kickin’ it. I almost didn’t finish it. Got in my tent, smoked some pot, and went to sleep.

Wednesday 6-20-12 –
I got up. Tried to sleep more on the floor inside, but couldn’t. I made some tuna salad. Tibbs gave me some lard soap to use on our bike chains. He told e that it had great degreasing qualities. We ate of the tuna salad on some bread. Sandwiches are what some people call that. I scrubbed our chains and lubed them. We god some coffee at the Mud Café, Then headed south.
    We rode on.
    Once we were clear of the city (seemed like forever), we stopped at a small town and went to a grocery store to get some food. We ate it and sat. It was about 1PM and we were at 23 miles; not bad.
    We rode on.
    We were in Missouri going sort of along the Mississippi, though we never could see it. There were many big hills. Finally, about 10 miles of Ste. Genoveve, MO, we rode down a HUGE hill for over a damn mile.
    *Ste. Genoveve was pretty much closed. We went toward the levee road thinking about a place to camp possibly down by the river. The road was far from the river. The river plain between the levee road and  the river was HUGE and planted with soy crops. It was strange to me. Half way down we decided to turn back. Then we found a small clearing that we had passed. We investigated and were struck by some pretty wonderful results. The area was a tree wrapped magical wonderland with soft plants in the clearing that came up only a foot. We were content and ready to camp. We threw our tents down and stated in on the peanut butter. Then we heard a car screamin’ down the gravel levee road, a schreech and a solid car-style punch to end the entertaining noises: CRASH, you might say.
    Louie was about to check and see if they were ok (the human thing to do). But I said.  ”NO! you’ll compromise our location!” I just didn’t want to talk to the cops and try to find a place to camp In the pitch dark. So, we stayed in quiet stealth mode. 10 or more emergency vehicles showed up in the next 15 minutes. This was around 8:45PM.  We were pretty much forced to stay dormant in our tents until the left. The accident itself was no more than 40 feet away from us and we could see these folks through the trees fairly well. It was a bit nerve wracking.
    The dead leaves and branches that night sounded like it was raining. Pretty noisy, but pleasant .

Thursday 6-21-12 –
June 21st is the longest day of sunlight, and it’s my dad’s birthday. I called him. We rode on toward Cape Girardeau, MO. Again, we stopped at a grocery store fore some food. (I never paid more than three dollars for a vegetarian sandwich at any deli on the trip.)
    At this particular deli, the lady that I talked to asked me what I wanted, and I told her. My order did not include meat. When I told her that I didn’t want meat, she told me that they “didn’t do that”. Then she just walked away. Another lady came up and said, “ OK honey. What do you want on your sandwich?” I asked her what she had and she told me that we were at a grocery store. She then asked me what I wanted. I told her. This list included a ton of stuff that you wouldn’t expect at a deli in general, but she then enlightened me as to the fact is that we were at a grocery store. The, (this really blew my mind), she walked out into the store and started grabbing things off the shelf. It was really sweet. We ate. There was a UPS dude there that wanted to watch the weather. Shit, is it gonna rain?  Sounded good to me.
    So, ‘bout 5 miles down the road, out of Cape Girardeau, rain was on our ‘ass’, and we were pretty happy about it. It had been so hot. It began. We were happy. We rode in a drizzle and made it into Cape Girardeau with no problem. We were in the suburbs and the clouds were still hovering on our backs. I asked a girl at a burger/ice cream joint how to get downtown. She told me to take the 3rd light left and go ‘til I hit the river.
    On our way toward downtown the rain actually caught up with us. It was pouring. As hell. We got wet. Really wet. We got downtown and found a bar called *. The guy at the bar let us bring our bikes in. Their AC was cold as fuck. We were wet, wearing tight shorts and sleeveless shirts…What’s a guy to do?
    Guy at the bar gives me permission to put our bikes in the foyer. We go in and sit. I put on a shit that was not so wet. It was happy hour. We drank our share o’ beers. After shouting unnecessarily about looking for a dry place to put a tent. A really drunk dude told us that we could cross the river (we were already needing to cross) and there was spot under the bridge that was right on the Mississippi River.
    God damn it was beautiful. It felt like we owned the world. Not before cooking a little food. OK: RECIPE TIME:

Ghetto Thai-Style Lentils

• 1 cup dried lentil's
• 4 cloves garlic chopped
• some onion diced
• 3 big ass spoonfuls of crunchy peanut butter
• more honey and Sriracha than you think you need

1. In a bit of water, simmer the garlic and onion for about 4-5 minutes.
2. Add the lentils and cover with water by just under an inch. Cook and add water as needed.
3. When lentils are almost done, add peanut butter, honey and Sriracha. Stir a lot in order to thoroughly mix in the peanut butter.
4. You’re almost there.
5. Simmer until the lentils are cooked to your liking.
6. EAT IT!

    After we ate, we walked over and sipped on our beers. We took some photos of the scene. Louis went to bed. I was restless. I called my mom, she was really into updates. We talked for about 30 minutes. I drank the rest of Louis’s beer in that time. Finally, in an effort to fall asleep, I smoked some pot and did fall asleep.
    I woke up to headlights. I was a little concerned, thinking that perhaps they were cops. They weren’t cops though. They were just high school kids looking to drink somewhere.

Friday 6-22-12 –
We both had to poop. I thought that I had seen a gas station before we headed toward the river. I was wrong. We were evidently in the town of East Cape Girardeau. “East Cape Girardeau” is actually a joke. They do have a motel, a few trailers and more than enough strip joints to satisfy the population’s needs.
    We rode on.
    The next town was only 10 miles. We could do that. The first 3 miles were littered with dead turtles. I’ve never seen so many turtles, and they were dead. There was also construction, which gave us two whole lanes of fresh road with no cars, just dead turtles.
    The next town, Thebes, IL, did not have a public toilet. Looks like we were gonna have to use that tp that we brought. There was a really pretty train bridge coming off the Mississippi. It turned out to be a lovely 2 stall bathroom as well. We shat! Then we got back on the road.
    We found a diner in Olive Branch, IL and decided to stop. I got a grilled cheese with all the vegetables. It was pretty good. I went outside and saw some ladies that looked like they might have been the ones in the kitchen responsible for the sandwich. I asked if they were who I thought they were, and one lady confirmed that she did in fact make my sandwich. She proceeded to tell me that she makes vegetarian food for her daughter regularly. She said I should have just asked her to make me something good. How the hell would I know?
    We rode on.
    *The next town was Cairo, IL. Whoa! What a strange place. Idris had told us that it was an abandoned town, but it didn’t really appear that way. There were a few abandoned houses and buildings, but nothing out of the ordinary. Toward the south end of town, we glanced left off the main strip. We saw what looked like an old small town main street. Funny, it was empty. We went to investigate. Holy fuck! It was about 4 blocks long, and there were two, three and four story buildings lining the extra wide street. On the extra wide sidewalk, there were old street lamps about every 12 feet. There was no one there. There were no occupied buildings. It was entirely abandoned. There was a 16-plex apartment building just decaying. The scene was surreal. This place was wild. Louis does historical carpentry restoration for work, so he was especially taken by the scene in Cairo. On the way out of town, I saw this auto repair shop. On the broken windows of the once-auto shop, I could make out paint that read “Give Cairo a Chance”.
    We headed south toward the bridge into Kentucky. Just before crossing the Ohio River, we saw a lady on her bike. She was more loaded down than we were, and she was heading the other way. She hollered, “Where ya comin’ from?”
We yelled, “Kansas City”
She simply yelled, “Orlando!”
Fucking wow! We knew we were riding a ways, but that lady was on her own from Orlando and was in southern Illinois. What a lady.
    We crossed into Kentucky. It was a long and narrow road for quite a ways. We were trying to make it to a town called Mayfield, KY, which would put us right around 70 miles. We got there at about 5:45pm. We went to a Subway and we both ate a foot long sandwich. All the while a bunch of high school basketball kids were obviously making fun of us. Louis’s only regret was his inability to fart while walking by their table. This may seem strange, but Louis had been very gassy the last few…no, the whole trip.
    At about 6:30pm, we decided that we hated Mayfield, KY and the heat of the day was subsiding. We decided to GET THE FUCK ON! We did. We were feeling good. Murray, KY was about 27 miles out, but we weren’t making a goal of it. We figured that we’d sleep when we were ready or when the damn sun went down, but we just kept riding. There was a lot of good shade and I think that it had dropped to the upper 80’s. We were going. We were shit talking Mayfield, KY, laughing, watching the one horse towns come and go.
    Holy hell! It’s Murray, KY! Evidently, it’s rated a top 10 town in which to raise a family. I had no intention to do that. It was getting dark. The only intention I had was to find a beer. Approaching the south end of town, I had yet to see a fucking bar or a liquor store. NOTHING! Next thing I know, Louie goes off to the sidewalk and says something awesome to this guy, “Hey. You know where we can get a drink around here?” (Louie, I love you.)
I turn back and ask him what he found out, “What’d he say?”
Louie, “He said that they don’t sell alcohol in this county. “
Fuck. My heart sank. My liver may have risen a bit. Anyhow, it hurt. We had just ridden 98 miles! That’s 2 miles of a century.
“Well” Louis said, “He told me we could get a drink at that Mexican restaurant across the street.”
“An alcoholic drink?”
“Yeah. He specified that.”
Whewww! So, Louie and I went to the Mexican restaurant. We got chips and salsa and a pitcher of beer. Man, it was great. Louis was reading maps, and I went outside to smoke and enjoy the night. We ordered another pitcher of beer. A guy that worked at the restaurant was pretty interested in our trip. He was a Hispanic fella. He spoke decent English and he was really buff. It turned out that he regularly rides 20-50 miles a day and is pretty serious about marathon running. I told him that I just wish we knew where we could put our tents down. He thought about it and told us about a city park about five lights back.
    Being as how it was dark, we went ahead and had another pitcher. Hell yes we did, I mean fuck it, we knew where we were sleeping and it was already dark. It’s a really good feeling to know where you’re going to sleep.
    We found the park and a pretty good spot in it that fit our tents and bikes. We set up and decided to smoke a bit of pot. Maybe it would aid a peaceful sleep. Well, it did help me sleep better, but not before I zoned out on the beautiful world of cicada chirping… for over an hour. I think that they… wait… I’m pretty sure that they chirp on some yet not understood beat structure. Maybe I was just stoned. Who knows. It was entrancing.

Saturday 6-23-12 –
Holy shit fuck! It’s day eight and we were a mere 65 miles from Clarksville, TN. We had originally estimated Clarksville at day ten. EIGHT! Unfortunately, that meant the end of my companion’s journey. Mine was to continue. We left Murray, KY, neither of us tried to raise a family. We made it out, well rested, caffeinated and free. No wives, no babies.
    Before Murray, there were lots of fields and not much else. After Murray, the road became windy, hilly, and tree filled. The hills didn’t matter any more; they broke up the monotony.
    At about 15 miles, we stopped at a gas station to use their facilities. Sweet, there was a deli in it. Delis are always a welcome site, especially when you don’t eat in the morning. Sometimes it’s more important to just hit the road. I ended up eating roast beef, as lettuce and unripe tomatoes seemed to be the only vegetables available. Oh well.
    I knew we were almost to Tennessee. I almost asked the guy at the gas station, but decided it didn’t matter. As soon as we hit the road, there was a Welcome to Tennessee sign. While riding, I told Louie about my magical evening with the cicadas and the weed. Louis asked if I was serious. I thought that was a strange reaction to my story, but I told him that, yes, I was serious. Louis explained, “I laid for an hour doing the same fucking thing.” We then talked about the intricacies of ‘cicada talk’ and how we interpreted them. Based on this conversation, I knew beyond a doubt that was at the same cicada party with me. Maybe we were just stoned, but man those fucking cicadas are cool.
    We hit Hwy 79. This road was to go east across Kentucky Lake, through the Land Between the Lakes and eventually right into Clarksville. The Land Between the Lakes consisted of about three huge hills. Slowly up and quickly down. Again and again.
    Evidently, Vacation Bible School started that Saturday at 5pm. Louie wasn’t interested. I figured that we could quote the dude we met on the Katy Trail about being on a prayer ride. I figured we’d get at least a free meal. Mmmm. Something maybe.
    We kept on. After this hills it started getting very hot. It was at least 100 degrees out. It was hot, really hot. I think it was slightly up hill for the rest of the ride. It was definitely the most exhausting day. There was no shade. 79 was a huge road. There were head winds. Louie got a ways ahead of me… Deep breath.
    We stopped at a gas station. A drunk guy was impressed and tried to give us some beer. We declined. We would drink beer at Louie’s sister’s house and sleep inside. We rode on.
    There it was! Clarksville City Limit. Louie told me that the town was really flat, so we were home free. Well, I guess that Louie hadn’t come into the town from this side… or on a bike. There were hills, big steep hills. One last really steep one. It was really steep. It was hot out, and this hill was steep. It was hot too. Ahh, out turn, Dunbar Cave Rd. Another mile to go. A car passed us and turned around and followed us. It was Louie’s mom and sister. We made it. I met the family, including Louie’s brother in-law and his two nephews.
    His sister and mom took us out for pizza. His mom and I got some beer. I really like beer. Actually, I got two beers and ate more than anyone else did.  I ate and ate. On the way back we stopped and bought some more beer. At the end of the night, Louie and his brother in-law, Vince, and I sat out back of the house and drank and talked.
    Vince had been in the army for 11 years. I wanted to ask him about it, but I have had bad luck asking army folks about being deployed. I finally asked, but I told him that he didn’t have to talk about it if he didn’t want to. I told him about having asked people before and getting yelled at about how I couldn’t understand. Vince said “Fuck guys like that.” He said that they’re just using their military status to be high and mighty. He cited ‘Support Our Troops’ propaganda as a tool for guys like that. He also said further that he doesn’t associate with guys like that.
    It actually seemed like he hates being in the army, but it pays well and he has a family. He said that he’s going to probably quit in the next couple years and that he’s not signing any more deployment contracts. He went to bed. Louie did too. I drank several more beers and called my friend Corky. I drank 11 beers there and never felt drunk. I slept in the AC. Too good.

Sunday 6-24-12 –
Were it not for Louie’s two nephews, I’m certain that I would have slept until noon. 8am it was. For the better of course. I ate some and resituated all my stuff, consolidated my food and drank way too much coffee. I procrastinated a whole lot. Finally, the truth was evident; I was packed and ready to go. On my own again. I’ve done this before.
    Louie was hanging out with no shoes on and playin’ with his nephews and talking to his mom. His journey was done, this is where he was going and he was there. I was en route to party my ass off in Chattanooga, TN and I was ready to fucking go. “I’m leaving!” The rest of my journey was just beginning. It was time. I wasted almost three hours.
    I hugged Louie and said goodbye. I told his family the same.
    I rode on. I went up a large hill, then on to Hwy 41. That highway essentially was to go all the way to Chattanooga. At the intersection of Hwy 41, someone shouted something bout it being cool that I was traveling on bicycle. It felt good. Encouragement from strangers always feels really good. It’s definitely an energy boost; something extra that you can’t ask for. It’s a good feeling. It makes me feel like those people see you and actually think about what you’re doing. They see your bags. They know thar you’re not just going down the block. They have some level of understanding or, perhaps, appreciation. I felt like the goose-bumps that I got from their comment gave me fuel for a free 10 miles. I just felt happy god damn it! Well…
    I got some Gatorade and a candy bar and rode on. I had Ramblin’ Man by the Allman Bros. stuck in my head. I was singing the parts that I knew. I sang the line “I was born in the back seat of a Greyhound bus, rollin’ down Highway 41…” Then, I began laughing my ass off with excitement. I was actually rolling down highway 41 at that moment. I’m not sure what put that song in my head, but it seemed just fine, and it made me damn happy. I ‘rolled’ on!
    Now I was on my own. God Damn! I felt so free. I was Free! (still am, dead or alive) I rode slow. I stopped whenever I wanted to. “Today I’ll pass Nashville. Maybe I’ll make it to Murphreesboro.” I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I knew that I’d ride into Chattanooga early no matter what. It’s all for me. A long day. A short day. Sure. A day!
    I approached Nashville and I had mapped out a route to skirt out around the city. Going through a big city is a pain in the ass. It’s different if it’s you’re destination, but this was not.
    I hopped over to Rte 65 and dropped into a beautiful valley with huge bluffs on either side of me. It was quite a surprise. The luscious terrain was great, not to mention that I just kept descending. Beautiful and easy. I went east on to Hwy 45 in order to swing out around town. Of course, I still hit a loot of suburb traffic, but it was Sunday and traffic was pretty ‘chill’.
    Northeast of Nashville, I crossed the Cumberland River. The bridge at that crossing was really pretty. After the bridge, the road curved south. There wasn’t much around. It was a bit industrial and mostly just scantly populated. At this point, I was about 45 miles into the day. It was really hot. Again. It was over 100 degrees out.
    Then, I spotted a produce stand. I decided that were I to see a banana, I would stop and buy one. I saw a banana. I stopped.
    The guy working there was missing some teeth, wearing a sleeveless unbuttoned shirt, cut-off jean shorts and what appeared to be a permanent leathery tan. I asked,”how much for one banana?” The guy started getting a bag, but I stopped him because I really just wanted one banana and I wanted to eat it immediately. He took the bag, put five bananas in it and said,”here ya go man” I  asked him if I could eat a banana there and smoke a cigarette. He said to go for it. I did. We talked for a bit. I told him that I was aiming for Murphreesboro today.
    Well, time to go. I say thanks and shake the guy’s hand. Wait, I need to put on more sunscreen. So I do. I put it on my arms and my legs, and ETC!!!
Man says,”Boy, I gotta be honest with you.”
I say,”okay.”
Looking me dead in the eyes, he says,”You look damn good in them shorts.”
Hesitating, I say,”Thanks, I, uh, hope some lady in Murphreesboro does too.”
Still lookin’ me dead in the eyes, he says,”I hope she does too.”
    Ok, where in the hell is Louie now? Shit. I just ate a banana of all things, told this man my destination, and lathered down with lotion in front of this guy. Way to go. As I rode off, I tried to laugh. I just couldn’t laugh right. What the fuck, the produce stand guy just hit on me. GO GO GO! I did.
    Finally, I was back on 41A. I stopped to take in some sugar and breathe. At about 6pm I was at 65 miles. Murphreesboro is about 25 more. I’m going to make it there, fuck it. I get there about 8:30pm. I find a couple of hippie sort of guys outside a local bar/deli place. They don’t know where to tell me to camp. I ask where the bar was that the dick heads didn’t hang out at. They mentioned the current location, but it didn’t really seem up my alley. I was looking for more of a dive style bar. I got lost as hell and almost gave up and went for a grave yard to sleep. The sun’s about down. I decide to ride at least to the next light. There’s a gas station. Doesn’t look like I’ll find a bar here, but wait, “the Boro”. Actually the hippie guy mentioned this place.
    I went in and got a beer. Some guys gave me advice on where to sleep, but it didn’t seem that great. Oh well, I had a place in mind. I got a pitcher. A couple of other guys came out with some beer and sat down a couple tables down from me on the patio. After a minute, I asked if I could sit with them. I explained that I had been riding my bike all day and hadn’t really gotten to talk with anyone. I was feeling socially deprived. “Hell yeah! Have a seat!”

A couple of kids named Josh H. and Russ. Nice fucking guys. They told me that I wouldn’t have to sleep in a field. He called a guy that does mobile bike repair and other bike stuff. When he didn’t get a response, he said,”Fuck it. You can just stay at my place.” Hell yes!

They were going to go bowling, but the prospect of swimming came up which was much more enticing to me. I voted for swimming. There was a snag. Josh wasn’t supposed to go to the house that was home to this pool. Russ and I convinced him that if he had to leave, we would leave and take the many beers that we would have right out with us. Basically we were going to have a good time no matter the bull shit, and we’d do it together. I bought a 24 case of beer. I wanted to drink with these guys and offer to the guy who was putting me up.

We get to this spot. The people there are the same guys that had told me about this field to camp in. It felt strange there. Josh was on my right talking to some guy. Russ was on my left talking to some other guy. I kept overhearing certain things from Russ’s conversation, like ‘ Are you serious?!’ or ‘Grow up dude!’. I realized that Josh was right, we weren’t allowed to be there. Russ’s voice became louder as he talked to this guy, but in a way that we all knew this was no private conversation. We fell up out the place.

So, we went to an apartment pool and swam there. A couple of the guys from the house called us to see where we had gone. We told them, they came. We swam there for a bit. An apartment complex guy finally asked us to leave, he was pretty nice about it.

We all went to Josh’s house and shot the shit and listened to music. I made them listen to the Nature Boys. They played their friend’s bands. Finally, I stood up and realized that I was actually drunk. Wow. I got drunk for the first time on the trip. Josh knew immediately. He showed me to a bed. It was really nice. Then I realized that he tricked me and let me sleep in his room, while he took the couch. What a jerk, I told him that I didn’t need a bed...

What a nice fucking guy! I don’t care what those pool havin’ ass holes have to say.

Sunday 6-25-12 –
I wake up. It was about 10:30am. Later than usual, but usually, I wasn’t in a bed with a curtain in a room with AC. Oh yeah, it had its’ own bathroom too.
    Josh and I went to the City Cafe. I was on the square downtown. It was a diner. It looked, smelled and felt like a diner. I ate a salmon patty, fries, black eyed peas and a salad. Coffee too. Seven dollars seemed good but the feeling inside felt bad. Really heavy.
    It was probably noon by the time I left and it was probably already 95 degrees outside. Mmmm, fried food in me, 95 degree heat. Yeah, I stopped a lot. I drank a lot of water. Nothing really helped, I just felt heavy. Anyhow, I rode on...slowly.
    I knew that later that day, I was going to have to do this thing that I knew I was going to have to do from the onset of the journey. That thing was climbing a mountain on my bike. I was super excited about it, but I was simultaneously nervous. I’d never done such a thing before.
    I stopped just north of Manchester, TN at this diner in the middle of nowhere. I drank a Gatorade and some coffee and sat there awhile. I talked to Wyeth on the phone. Something about the scene made me think of him. At Manchester, I ate at a Subway and called my brother. He and I talked for a bit. It was nice, but I was really just procrastinating. After Manchester, I began to realize that the clouds on the horizon were actually mountains. That made me laugh. As I rode toward the mountains, the rode basically sloped downward. This made sense to me geographically. But, I just kept imagining a bridge that began and was flat and hit the mountain at my current altitude.
    Well, there was no such thing as this crazy bridge and at some point I saw trees covering the road and the road disappeared sharply to the left. It was all so uneventful; gradually down for miles, then up. And up more. I rode about four miles in about 50 minutes. It was great. I was breathing heavily, but I also couldn’t stop laughing. This was the one thing that I was so excited about. So in the excitement of doing it, I couldn’t help but laugh and laugh. The laughing made me laugh more.
    At each switchback, it was amazing to see how quickly the road below disappeared. The sun was on the horizon. Fucking beautiful! At the last turn, I knew the climb was over. I only really knew this because I had looked at the map so many times. I knew how many turns and what the last one looked like, the way it turned in and not back.
    The top of the mountain was a bit surreal. The road tees and suddenly you’re on the main street of Monteagle, TN. I was at about 65 miles for the day, but it was late and I had no intention to go on. Hey, it’s a bar! I was hesitant. It looked too fancy. A couple of guys in suits were looking at me. I went up to them and asked if this was where I should go to drink a beer. They thought so. One of the guys was a cyclist. We talked for a minute.
    I went in and sampled a beer. After waiting for 10 minutes for the bar tender to return, I decided to go and seek out a dive bar. I rode to the end of town, about a quarter mile, then I rode to the other end, another mile. There was one other bar, but it was closed...back to ‘Dave’s Modern Cafe’.
    I reentered the bar and the bartender lady said,”I was wondering where you went, I thought that I maybe offended you.” Well, she kind of did as she repeatedly passed me and helped other people. Whatever, I lied,”No no, you were busy, so I went to find a place to sleep.”
“Oh, good, that table wanted to buy you a drink.”
Ok, I was glad that I had come back. I sat outside and drank and looked at a map. I wrote in here a bit too. After a few beers, I asked one of the servers (who looked like maybe he was into pot, thus may be down to help me out) if he knew where a guy might be able to pitch a tent for the night. He said that I might be able to sleep in the park across the street, but the cop station was right next door. He also mentioned a reservoir that seemed nicer, but it was dark and that spot was a few miles down a “hill”.
    I decided that the park by the cops was easier. I figured that the cops might realize that I wasn’t trying to hide, since I was camped right next to them. I proceeded to drink some more beers. The cafe seemed to be closing, but I as told that I could stay and that they’d serve me up to the last minute. Another server even bought me a drink. The first guy that I talked to came back out and told me that the owner of the bar gave me the go-ahead to pitch my tent in the lot next to the bar. FUCK YES! Nice people, once again.
    Knowing that I had permission to stay at a place, I decided to go to a gas station and buy a few beers for later. I wasn’t tired at all.
    The side of the bar turned out to be pretty awesome. It had a light and an outlet. There was even an awning that shaded to light. I called a few people. I called my friend Chase in Oakland. It was his birthday, I had no idea. SLEEP!

Tuesday 6-26-12 –
Got up. Went to the corner store to ask where I could find a cup of coffee. I saw a table, a tiny deli are and some coffee pots with coffee. They said it wasn’t too fresh, so it was free. I asked a couple of old timers if I could sit at the table with them. They warned me that there was a lot of “bullshit goes on at this table”. I sat down.
    They convinced me to get a sandwich at the deli. Nice lady workin’ the deli. Sandwich with no meat: $2.10! I talked with the old timers a bit, ate and rode on.
    The next 18 miles or so were so beautiful. I was riding on a ridge. It was nice and cool for the first time on the journey. Then something unexpected happened. I saw a sign. The sign had a semi-truck facing down an incline with the caption “7% grade 3 miles”. Weird, I had been so excited about riding up the mountain, that I hadn’t even considered the thought of getting to go down. HERE I GO! THREE FREE MILES!
    At some point going down, I noticed that there was a car behind me. I thought it was too bad that they’d have to go slow for three miles, but oh well. Then I realized that I was going about 39mph and the speed limit was 35. Plus, it was a county sheriff, so I figured that I’d hear if he had to be somewhere.
    At the bottom was the town of Jasper, TN. There’s an old style square that is still the actual downtown. I decided that I had not had enough coffee. I ‘circled the square’ and found this German baker/cafe. The lady there brewed a new pot for me. I drank the whole damn thing while talking to my grandma for about 30 minutes.
    It was good talking with her. I told her how I began to realize that the best part of the ride had to be how nice people had been to me. It’s just so nice to be treated so well by different people in different places. I don’t know if anything else feels quite so good. God damn!
     I was only about 40 miles or so from Chattanooga. The talk with Grandma made me realize that I didn’t want the ride to be over. It reminded me of Louie tellin’ me on the first day,”It’s gonna go by fast”. Hell if he wasn’t right. Seemed like that was just yesterday.
    Anyhow, I rode on. At Monteagle, some folks were telling me about the 41 bridge over Nickajack Lake might be out. The overwhelming consensus was that I should be able to cross. I didn’t really have any other choice but to try.
    I descended into the river valley for a decent while. As I begin to see the bridge, I can already see barricades. There was a Sheriff parked there. As it turned out, he was the same guy who was tailing me down the mountain a couple hours earlier. This guy had one hell of a dialect. He told me that I was doing fine and called me “comrade”. I asked him if I could cross the bridge. In so many words, I was told that he wasn’t going to tell me not to cross. Well, it seems that the old sheriff wasn’t aware of the current condition of the “bridge”. The “bridge” consisted of I-beams spaced at 10 foot intervals and between them was one hell of a drop to the lake.
    I didn’t want to ride out of the river valley just to go and hitch hike across the interstate. There was a camp ground at the base of the bridge. I looked at the road and I looked at the camp. Then, aloud, I said,”I’m takin’ a boat across this lake!”
     I rode into the camp and down a road that ended at a cul-de-sac. There were a few picnic tables. There was a guy sitting there just staring at the lake. I asked,”how’s it going?”
He said,”good, how are you?”
“I’d be better if that bridge wasn’t out”
“Yep, bridge’s out.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure”
“You don’t have a boat do ya?”
He paused. He looked back at the lake, then back at me.
“I got a boat.” He said.
“Any way I can give you some gas money to get across this lake?”
He looked back at the lake. Then, he got up and started walking toward me,”Well, the boat’s over here.”
    On the walk over, I learned that he had been looking at the lake on the other side of the camp for a couple of hours, then decided that he might go look at it over there. I think that he’d been watching the water all day. Guess the water was too rough, so he couldn’t fish.
    His name was Stephen. He’s the assistant manager at a wal-mart. His daughter studies theater in Japan. Additionally, she had translated for the Japanese Ambassador the year previous. I learned all of this from the front of his fishing boat. It was an amazing feeling. My handle bars were hanging over the edge of the boat. My bike had never been on a boat to my knowledge. I could barely contain how purely happy I was. Another day. Topping me off with good feelings about people. I fucking love nice people! BE NICE, PEOPLE!
    Stephen wouldn’t take my money. At the other side, I was right back at 41 highway. I hung out at a tackle/convenience store and smoked with a couple of old timers. One told me that they used to water horses where my bike was leaned. I told him that my bike didn’t need water. He seemed unusually excited about my bike getting its’ first boat ride.
    I rode on. I rode the bluff by the TN River. It was up for a while. A couple hours later, I saw the Chattanooga City Limit sign. Shit! Well, it was still a ways to the city.
    I rode for a while. There were people driving, sprawl and everything that goes with a city. I saw a share the road sign. ‘Well, that’s nice’ I thought. Immediately thereafter, the speed limit increased to 45 mph and the shoulder disappeared. On my right was a cliff. This was absolutely the most frightening part of the trip yet. Every right curve, I disappeared from the sight of anyone behind me. I could see the fucking city! I thought,’wow, there’s my destination, and now I’m going to die!’
    Well, I didn’t. After the cliff hell, I went under a bridge and it smelled like trash and fried chicken...I made it, Chattanooga.
    I went straight to the Pickle Barrel. (it’s a bar)