We were a bit unsure as to where to stay for the night. It didn’t worry us terribly, but usually we had some kind of inclination as to where we would sleep. But we kind of brushed the worrying aside, and hopped on our bikes. There really were no good campsites around the roads we were riding. At least not according to google.
But as night time was still far ahead of us we had more pressing problems to attend to. Like where to eat. And wouldn’t you know, a familiar two color logo made itself visible. Subway!
Yes we know, it’s not the fanciest of places, but to be honest it has saved the day for us on many an occasion. Try finding vegetarian food elsewhere in the rural Midwest. Can’t be done. Or at least it is pretty hard. So yes, Subway.
Upon entering the franchise we bumped into a lady wearing an Under Armor tank top and looking very sporty. She confessed to envying us for getting to spend all this time on our bikes. She said she would have liked to join us, but she had a big party to prepare, so she had to pass this time.
We spoke with her for a while, gave her our card, and went about ordering our sandwiches. And as she was before us in line, she made her exit, while we took a table by the window. So we could keep an watchful eye on our bikes.
In a few minutes, however, Cherri, that was her name, (which I’m sure I’m doing terrible violence to by misspelling it, but I blame my dyslexia for that!) returned, wanting to know whether we had any plans on where to stay for the night.
As we confessed of not really having any such plans, she asked if we would like her to make a few phone calls. She had family living in the next town westward. We naturally accepted such a gracious offer, and five minutes later she told us everything was taken care of. We would be meeting Jason at an old car show by the townäs school. An added bonus that didn’t leave me cold at all.
In an hour we roll into town, look for the car show, and find it in no time. (These small American towns are quite easy to figure out after a while…) And there Cherri was again! She introduced us to two young ladies, one of which turned out to be our hostäs daughter Skye. Who in turn introduced us to her father Jason.
Now Jason was a cool guy. A farmer, 55 years of age, and fit as a fiddle. And had a quirky kind of sense of humor too. The first taste of which was the threat that we would need to do all the dishes in the house for being allowed to stay there. (There were no dishes, just to be clear here.)
Jason told us he would be staying at the car show for another hour, but that Skye would take us to the house. We were given two options, either load the bikes on her huge pick up truck, or ride after the car the remaining mile.
We chose to ride, since the lure of an automobile is something one needs to resist on trips like these. And we were happy to ride anyway, except maybe for the final short soft gravel part.
Upon showing us around Skye casually commented that they had lots of guns in the house, and said that she hoped this didn’t bother us. They were, after all mostly used for hunting.
I told her that I didn’t mind guns, as long as they weren’t pointed at me, and that was the end of that discussion. We were also given a free pass to whatever was in the fridge, including the melons, the blueberries and strawberries!
As the car show came to its end Jason returned to his home. Which now was our home as well. At least for the night. We spoke with him for a moment while he was doing his evening exercise of lifting weights while the television showed a tennis match from somewhere. Our discussion took a strangely philosophical turn.
–So why are you doing this ride? Is is for charity, or a cause or..?
–No, it’s really not… People always ask us, but really, it’s only for fun.
–Yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing to say, but we’re doing it just because we want to explore what lies between the coasts…
–I think that is the best of reasons. You’re doing because you want to do it. No external reasons needed.
True words from our friend the farmer!