June 22, 2001.
Layover in Houston, Missouri. (0 miles)
Waiting
for the mail.
Our inspired plan to send our camping
stuff on ahead has backfired, as our camping gear has not yet arrived here in
Houston. The U.S. Postal Service had just over 4 days to transport it 190 miles
from Carbondale, but no camping gear yet. "Maybe tomorrow." I told
them we should have sent it by bicycle courier (maybe Lance Armstrong) as it
would have arrived yesterday.
This is a bit of a psychological setback, but
not as sobering as witnessing another drama this morning. Yesterday when we
arrived at out motel, we noticed another couple coming and going from their room
with all of the identifying markings of bicycle tourists. Not only did they have
the tan lines, but they were seen walking in the direction of the nearest Laundromat
carrying plastic grocery sacks of laundry. That was definitely bicycle tourist
behavior. The part that didn't fit was that they seemed to go out of their way to
avoid meeting us, though it was obvious we were traveling by bicycle too.
This morning we sat outside our motel
room in the sun and watched as the husband drove a rental U-Haul truck up to
their room and silently loaded touring bikes, panniers, and gear into the
back. Finally, I couldn't resist introducing myself. The husband explained that
they had started out in May from Yorktown too, but that "a combination of
factors", which he didn't want to detail, had caused them to abandon the
idea here in Houston. It had proven to be too arduous, "just not fun
anymore," all enthusiasm gone. The wife didn't want to talk to us, only
reminding her husband that they needed to get going.
Hmmm. I cannot deny that riding a
bicycle across America is a very big psychological and physical challenge. There
have been blood, sweat, and tears already. Other veterans of this ride say you
end up learning as much about yourself as you do about the country. There are no
guarantees that whomever starts this trip can or will finish it. I cannot speak
for my physical ability to finish this, only my stubbornness.
This has caused us to be
introspective today as we explored quaint downtown Houston. Everyone recommends
periodic rest days, and this is the first day in the last 18 that we have not
ridden our bikes. Instead, we've had hot fudge sundaes at the old fashioned soda
fountain in the corner drug store, answered an old-timer's questions about our
bicycle travel, and hung out in the library. It's good to goof off.
Houston, Missouri:. Population.
2,100. When we had hot fudge sundaes in this corner drug store, we were told
that a big Wal-Mart was coming soon to the outskirts of town. This will
probably herald the end of this small town pharmacy. All along our route,
small, convenient markets and services are closing as people are willing to
drive 50-60 miles to the nearest chain stores.
Missouri seems to like to fly the
American flag and decorate in red, white, and blue, so I bought a small American
flag at the Houston antique mall to attach to my bike. This is to symbolize my
resolve and enthusiasm to continue westward in the morning, U.S. Postal
Service allowing.
Another
fuel stop: Regular or high octane.
