Missouri

It is only a few days after our last post and we find ourselves waking up in the Comfort Suites Hotel on the west side of Jefferson City Missouri for the second morning in a row. Although that in itself may seem exciting, I assure you that the several day journey that led up to our arrival here was anything but.

Firstly we should explain why there is not out of Illinois dance for you to watch as we humiliate ourselves once again on the side of the highway. You see, St. Louis was much like Washington DC in the fact that route 50 joins up with a major interstate, which bicycle riders are of course not allowed on. However, like usual, we decided to test our luck with the local law enforcement and ride on the banned highway. Unlike, Washington’s finest who did not catch up with us until we had ridden over 20 miles, the St. Louis Blue were much more on top of their game and stopped us just 2 miles after we entered the no riding zone. Once kicked off the highway we were in need of other transportation through the city so we took a metro to get through the heart of the city. During this time we anticlimactically crossed over the Mississippi River. After the metro we rode a few miles to a hotel and called it a day because the area is expecting tornados, 90mph winds, and baseball sized hail! We decided that our tent may not withstand these elements and that we would fair much better in the confines of a Best Western.

In the morning we were back on the road, this time on route 100, which is biker friendly but still a pretty major road. Our goal was to take route 100 for about 40 miles back to route 50. While on this short stretch of road two things happened, one good, one not so good. Firstly, the good news was that a man stopped us on the side of the road and was so excited about what we were doing that he met up with us several miles down the road fully equipped with Gatorade for Team LOCO! We graciously thanked him, moistened our parched throats, and continued down the road. The not so good event took place when a car did not see Anthony and cut him off. Anthony, paying close attention to the road noticed the poor driving and stopped on a dime. Ryan and Zach who were following close behind also tried to stop as to avoid hitting Anthony however they collided. Now we are not Physics majors but what we do no is that when a large object (Zach) hits a smaller object (Ryan) the smaller object will be moved. In this case, Ryan flew over the handle bars of his bike and landed on his shoulder where he rolled several times before coming to a painful stop. Luckily, all parties were ok and several bystanders had the pleasure of catching the moment for themselves.

Two days later, all is well as Team LOCO gears up for a 35 mile afternoon where they plan to end up in Jefferson City at a hotel, which is to be paid for by Zach’s generous parents. However, little did they know that each one of them was in for a journey that they would not soon forget, here are their stories.

Ryan’s Story: I was riding slightly ahead of Anthony and Zach when I got a call from Anthony who told me that Zach’s bike was giving him problems. He told me to ride to the next town and wait for them there. By the time I arrived at the next town the condition of the bike had worsened and Anthony told me that it had become obvious that Zach could no longer ride into Jefferson City. He told me that they would try to hitch in, while I rode ahead and met them at the hotel. At this point I was about 20 miles outside of Jefferson City with about an hour and a half of daylight left. Knowing that I had to make good time I took off. What I did not know is that the terrain between myself and Jefferson City was as mountainous as we had seen in awhile so by they time I actually got into the city the sun was almost completely gone. To make matters worse, the hotel that we were staying at was on the west side of Jefferson City, another 10 miles from where I was. So after dangerously, riding through the dark to a hotel, which seemed impossible to find I finally arrived at the Comfort Suites.

Zach’s Story: I limped on into the City of Linn on a bike that had the task of carrying the largest biker the road has ever seen nearly 1200 miles and Sheila (Bike’s Name) had finally thrown in the towel. I then met up with Anthony at a Gas Station not to be named and the decision was made to hitch into town. After nearly 1.5 hours of unsuccessful cheesing on the side of the road, a Police Officer pulled into the station and the thought crossed my mind that he might fulfill at least half of his sworn motto – He could serve us by getting us a ride. Turns out though he was there to protect the frightened gas station attendants as we quickly learned that his stop there was not a coincidence. “Disturbing the Peace” is what he called it and we were ushered down the road to a new hitching location and we were left with about 20 min of daylight and no ride.

Not long after we moved a small white pickup pulled along side us and offered one of us a ride as that was all he could fit. I piled into the truck with all of mine and Anthony’s gear leaving just him and his bike to fare the road to town. We started off and the first word out of this driver was “sorry we had to call the police on you – but you boys made a mistake”. I tried to understand how you could call the 5.0 on someone and then give them a ride to town but this is an enigma that will never make sense to me but a ride is a ride. A 30 min ride quickly turned into 2+ hours as the longest car ride of my entire life was prolonged by a series of wrong turns, ice stops for his N/A brew, and chit-chat that might haunt my nightmares for years to come. I finally made it to the Hotel – After both Anthony and Dagen in 1 piece and needed a day off for my mental health as well as my physical.

Anthony’s Story: The three of us had become slightly separated as the day wore on, and while we three did enjoy the brief dose of solitude, it became apparent that Zach was far too far behind, so I decided to take up a post at the nearest gas station and wait a bit. Multiple reports from the station’s patrons revealed that Zach was a short distance behind and having some mechanical trouble so I waited for him there. The next series of events confounds me still, but somehow our Missouri-ian brethren decided that the best course of action to be taken when two cross country cyclists are down on their luck is to call the police. Then, by some strange twist of fate, one of the culprits of this act of ill informed insanity decides to pick Zach up leaving me alone with about 15 min before the daylight is snuffed out for the evening.

Being that I was the only one with a functioning bike at this point it followed that the best decision would be to let me try to fend for myself for a bit, and worse case scenario I could ride myself into Jefferson city and just be a couple hours late. Zach and his new and interesting friend took all my gear and I waited by the road a while longer where I tried to hitch alone. This leads us perfectly into the next addition of Anthony’s awkward situation corner.

A blue pick up truck flies by me at about 50 mph. I dismiss it as another failed attempt at snagging a free ride, but am the startled by the sound of squealing rubber as the truck comes to a screeching halt about 20 yards from my erected thumb.

“GET YERR &*%^ OVER HERE” I hear the man in the passenger seat scream in an accent that could only be appreciated for all of its ignorance if it were heard in person. I consider it for a moment, and decide it’s worth a shot. I push my bike up to the car and am greeted by two sets of hazy, blood shot eyes, and a smell as if the two inside had taken a hot bath in a tub full of pure well whiskey. The short haired kid in the passenger seat appeared to be the mastermind of this little operation and between the spray of spittle and waves of alcoholic breath, the following conversation ensued:

I begin with, “So… you guys are messing with me then?”

“Man we just chugged a bunch of beers, we’re wasted. What are you doing?”

“I’m riding my bike across the states for charity…”

“Yur whut??”

“Maybe I’ll just check you guys later”

“Whut are yuu, poor er sumetin?”

“No…”

“Man I’m so rich; I just bought my friend this truck. I’m *&^%ing sweet. Yes sir I am”

“You sure are…. Later guys”

I turn to walk back to my original hitching position, but after a confused pause I hear a final, “Hell Yeah we’re messin with you!!! HAHAHA, man we got him good!”

A final report from the squealing tires signaled their departure as my fantastic two new dui compadres sped down a darkened highway towards whatever soggy bottom porcelain fate awaited them. I wish them the best of luck.

About a half hour later I was picked up by a fantastic older couple named Bill and Donna Morrison, who took me and my bike the rest of the way into Jefferson City where I met up with Dagen and finally Zach at the hotel.

The conclusion of our Jefferson City adventure is that there were no bike shops open on Sunday so we had to take the day off and wait until Monday morning to walk our bikes to the nearest shop. Luckily for us, Zach’s dad once again picked up the tab for the hotel room and we slept in luxury for the second night in a row. After we get our bike’s fixed, God willing, we will be on a 5-6 day ride down route 54 towards Wichita Kansas where we hope to stay with a friend of Anthony’s father. Until then, pray that our bikes continue to hold up and that we hit good weather through the Great Plains!