Back on the Road - July 9, 2007

Back on the Road

(July 9, 2007)

 

It was fun to be home for a few days but hard to leave. Riding all day tends to focus your thoughts: and I realized how anxious I was to get home a few days ago. My wife is one of the finest individuals I have ever known, and it was good to see Emily, our only child still at home. The morning I left for the second leg of my journey Emily was subdued. I think she worries about me; but I know I worry more about her than anything.

She means the world to her mother and me.

Her senior year, Emily was on the Homecoming court.

 

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Fast approaching $11,000 raised.

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Weather has been tough the last four days, nineties and humid. At least once a day I ask myself, “What were you thinking when you hatched this plan?” Other bits of wisdom include, “I’m way too old for this!” “If a bus hit me, I’ll be out of my misery!” “Maybe I’ll get lucky, and someone will steal my bike!” You get the idea.

The people I meet continue to be kind. Passing through Brookville, Indiana, I stopped to eat at the China House where locals told me the buffet was outstanding. (Correct.) As I chained my bicycle to a pole a gentleman named Ken Litchfield approached. “Are you the guy I saw on the news last night?” he asked. Like a defendant on a television drama, I admitted I was. Ken reached in his wallet and pulled out $20 for JDRF. Then he ran down the street and got his camera and took a picture for the local paper. He said he’d try to get a story posted and drum up donations.

Meanwhile, Anne called me to say that one of our neighbors donated $500 and so I’m fast approaching $11,000 raised.

I logged 80 miles on July 6, 83 on the 7th and 82 on the 8th. One night I camped in a cornfield after washing up in a stream.

Memorial by the side of the road in Indiana. 

Old cathedral: Vincennes, Indiana. 

The next day a preacher named Lester Solomon talked to me in a Dairy Queen in Seymour, Indiana. After hearing my story he took my hand and said a prayer for my well-being. That’s the first time I ever prayed over ice cream. But I appreciate Reverend Solomon’s kindness and prayers can’t hurt.

One morning I passed a field and noticed all the cows were watching. Cows don’t get out much and I imagine they’re bored a lot. So I was something to watch, to give the brain something to work on, sort of like watching Wheel of Fortune for humans. I wonder what they were thinking. How sophisticated is the bovine brain?

Cow #1: Creature with shell on head. Not threat. Need to poo.

Cow #2: Creature moving fast. Hope crash.

Cow #3: I envy that rider his freedom. These other cows are morons. Oh well, nothing to do, except chew the cud.

I slept at a motel my second night out of Cincinnati. They had an exercise room and an elliptical machine. I decided to pass.

On July 8 I met a fellow named Jack L. Hamilton, who asked a lot of questions – what was I carrying – any mechanical problems – what did I do for food – where did I stay – was it hard to ride alone? Jack’s fiancé, Theresa, was with him and she has a diabetic daughter, now 34, diagnosed her senior year. “I tell her all the time I think there will be a cure in her lifetime,” she said. I agreed, and thinking of my own child, choked up.

The next couple of hours I rode hard – angry, really – thinking about Emily.

That same afternoon I ran across a nice couple from Bloomington. They mentioned a friend who rode cross country with his sons, to raise money for cerebral palsy. This was years ago and one of the boys suffered from the disease, and used a recumbent bike. Again, when I’m plowing up some hill and feeling sorry for myself, I remember a lot of people have steeper hills to climb every day.

Right now I’m a mile from the Wasbash River, and ready to cross into Illinois. A fellow in the library tells me it’s 97 degrees with humidity at 77%. Based on how I’ve been wilting today, I believe him.

I once read that "home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you."

Our house: the library.