Ups and Downs: From A Broken Spoke to the Air conditioned Senior Center

Leaving town I snapped the boot up screen for Windows.

We leave the small motel in Wilton (which David calls the “Wilton Hilton”) early, right around 6 AM and are about fifteen miles out of town, when I hear “broing!”  I think, oh shit, David has broken a spoke.  David asks if his wheel is out (of true), and at first I can’t tell.  Then I see the broken spoke rattling around. It had snapped in half right in the middle as if cut by a tool.  We stop and he wraps the broken spoke around another good one.  It is already hot and there is no shade to be found.  We both know that the repair will take some time and since the wheel is not too wobbling too much we press on in order to find a suitable repair spot.

"Excuse me, you are standing in a no distraction zone."

Down for repairs in the shaded pavilion,

The wheelsmith at work.

We make it into a town park about five miles past where the spoke broke.  I know the fix is really up to me.  Although I did build a set of wheels, and have trued a number of other ones, I have never fixed a spoke on the road.  It was time to take things step by step and figure it out. 

DW: Fortunately I do carry spare spokes on the bike; there are three of them that lay on top of the non-drive side chain stay in holders built onto the frame. Pata has the new spoke threaded into the wheel in no time. The real challenge lies in tightening the new spoke so it is compatible with its neighboring spokes and thus the wheel will spin true again.  The truing process takes time and patience and Pata is good at this! Her previous wheel building experience, as well as her jewelry creating, serve us well for this particular repair. With artistic concentration she works the spoke nipples with the wrench. First this spoke then that one, slowly dialing in the wheel so that no wobble can be detected between the brake pads she is using as guides (normally a truing stand would be used for this purpose but since we don’t have one my upside down bike becomes the stand and the brake pads the indicators for lateral play).

Within an hour we are back on the road moving west. Considering the circumstances we were in Pata did a fantastic job with my wheel! It’s not perfect but I believe it will hold until we reach the next bike shop.

OJ - population less than 500.

Our stop for the night is Oxford Junction Iowa. We find the city park listed on our map. In the park is a Legionnaire Hall with a car parked outside. We enter the hall and find an elderly gentleman inside. After a bit of conversation he tells us we can camp in the park. Later as we are scouting the park for a tent spot the man drives up to us and shows us where the water spigots are. I ask him if it’s possible to sleep in the hall but he says no.

Pata makes a call to city hall to get official permission to sleep in the park which is approved over the phone by Steve the vice-president park affairs.  After our tent is up the Steve drives up to greet us. He tells us about a good restaurant just a half mile up the road. Pata goes off to get dinner while he discusses with me the park in great detail.

The next thing I know the owner of the restaurant comes driving in the park and right up to Steve and me. He says, “You must be David?” I answer yes and he says “Pack up all your stuff. You and Pata will be staying in the town’s Senior Center. It has air conditioning and it’s much too hot to be outside.”

Pata pulls up to the Senior Center at almost 7PM

It's big in here and all ours for the night. Did I mention the A/C?

The understated entrance

Hand crafted clock on the wall in the center.

Pata working the soda machine in the front.

Cold orange soda and A/C - perfect together.

Which one of these things doesn't belong?

The bicycles continue to unlock doors and hearts.

The next morning Pata steps out ready for more mileage.

Wow, what a development! I start packing as Pata comes back. She met the Senior Center manager who gave her the key to the center and we went from primitive camping (read: water, porta potty and tent) to air conditioned comfort in the blink of an eye.

What David didn’t know is that as I went up to the restaurant, a man came out.  He had one eye that was injured, a bushy white beard and overalls.  He kind of reminded me of Professor Moody from Harry Potter.  Anyway, he commented that I was a week late for RAGBRI and I said that we were going across.  He asked did I know they let people stay at the Senior Center? I said that I didn’t and he told me to ask inside.  So when I got inside I asked the proprietor about the Senior Center.  She called a fellow named Dick who came over, and showed me around and gave me the key. 

It was quite a score.  AC and a soda machine – who could ask for more?  And it was not nearly as sketchy as the park.  (Where David had talked to a woman who told him there had been trouble there the night before at 1AM.  What she was doing there at 1 AM is another question, but we won’t go there.)  In any event, we slept safe and sound and cool. 

The Map Versus The Terrain

Not all who wander are lost, but I might be.

I once taught a workshop that supplemented a composition course called Subject A at the University of California, Berkeley.  For the course, the instructor had assigned an essay that explored the difference between the map of something and the actual terrain.  (I believe it was exploring the bigger idea of representation, and it was not limited to geographical maps; however, it was a long time ago and I don’t fully recall.)  In any event, I have been thinking about this as I navigate us across the country.

Navigation is hard work.  Every night I sit with the maps and make cue sheets that I can read from the map holder on my bike.  (The text on the map is tiny and with my old eyes there is no way I could follow it.)  I check the maps with the addendum and double check that I got it right. 

However, all the planning in the world does not really prepare us for the actual terrain which can vary drastically from the map.  The Adventure Cycling maps are quite good and do a good job of trying to represent the actual roads, signage and all.  Yet, there are times they will say “continue straight” when the road forks, or “turn right” when it seems to go straight.  (These maps are however, MUCH better than Google Maps Bicycle which seem to get me lost every time.)

For these occasions, I rely on my I-phone and Google maps (not the bicycle routes).  For the most part, I can figure out where I am and how to go (that is once I figure out the orientation).   It is particularly helpful in bigger cities as the ACA maps are not quite as good for the cities, as they only show the main route. 

Even with the maps and the technology, I have led us astray.  Once we made a wrong turn on a bicycle trail and had to backtrack 4 miles.  This was frustrating.  Another time, we went the wrong way out of the town of Iroquois for about 3 miles. Occasionally, I have over shot a turn, and realized it a bit later.  So far, though the bike path mistake has been the worst, and I usually figure out something is wrong before we get too far along.

And none of the maps or technology can really account for the ways that the terrain changes.  Roads are closed or in disrepair, or signs are missing or misplaced.  Once I went the wrong way, because the sign had been shifted.

It can be hard to know what to trust – the map or the sign?  The maps have been wrong too, and I have to be sure to check the corrections as I make the cue sheets.  I think I tend to trust the signs more than the map, but that has caused us to go some extra miles at times.

All of this can be stressful.  It is a lot of responsibility to be the navigator.  I am constantly looking at my cycling computer to see how many miles to the next turn.  (I have to be sure to warn David too, lest he gets too far ahead of me and misses it.)  I am always looking for cues that we are on the right road – road signs, cross streets, names of towns.  Sometimes a sign will say a town is 11 miles away and somehow we ride 18.  It can be hard to understand.

This is all an apt metaphor for life though.  We may have some kind of “map” we are trying to follow – which is usually in the form of expectations – either our own or our family’s.  And yet, somehow, most of us go astray and find our road veers from the map that we had in our minds.  The actual terrain of my life had led me on roads that I never expected to follow.  It has not always been my choice or what I would have wanted, but I have learned from the journey.  I mean who wants to be depressed?  Or lose their job?  Or be away from their child for many years?  These things were not on my map, yet they were on my terrain.  I navigated through them with as much dignity and strength as I could muster. 

It is important to me to remember that although I may have maps, that what I face in life (on the road, or at home) can differ from the representation.  After all, maps are merely a representation of something experienced.  They are a tool, as are plans and expectations, but one that, in my opinion, should not be deemed as more valid or true than the lived experience and the journey.  I may not always be on the map, but that does not make my life, or trip any less than if I were. Accepting the journey and my path is one of the lessons that I am embracing; it is a lesson of the road that can be extended into life itself. 

Across the Mississippi River into Iowa and to Wilton, IA – The Sweetest Town (July 27, 2012)

Crossing into Muscatine Iowa.

A warm Iowa sign welcome.

We left the Blanchard Island campground on the Mississippi River in IL early in the morning and headed to Muscatine, IA.  We crossed the Mississippi which was a thrill (although scary because there wasn’t much shoulder). 

We stopped in Muscatine and had some breakfast and then went to get some groceries at “Wallymart”. In front of the Walmart was a fellow named John who was giving out tootsie rolls for donations to help people with intellectual disabilities.  He gave us a few for the road and had a long chat with David as I shopped.  After contending with the fray at the Walmart, we headed to Wilton, IA where we planned to spend the night.

It was a little tricky as the road we were supposed to take was closed.  We rode the detour for a while but it was on a heavily traveled state route with big rigs going 80 MPH and it had a small shoulder with rumble strips.  We got off the road and decided to see if the closed road was passable.  It was fine and empty except for the few workers we saw who said nothing to us.

It took longer than I expected – it was further and again we had the headwind.  So it was after noon when we rolled into Wilton.  We rode through the center of town and stopped to get a cold drink.  As we were stopped, we saw a red truck that said “Candy Kitchen.”  (Those of you who know me know I have a very keen sweet tooth.)  Thelma, the woman, who came out of the truck told us that The Candy Kitchen was the oldest ice cream parlor in the world.  It was established in 1856 by an Irish immigrant and has been in her family for 102 years.  She worked there washing dishes since she was 10.  She is over 80 and her husband, George who is 92, worked there even longer.  She told us to come by.

Thelma greets us outside the supermarket in Wilton Iowa.

Butterfly seat outside our motel.

We went to the little motel in which we were staying.  It is inexpensive but very clean and so much better than the tent.  (It actually costs just a tad more than the more expensive camp grounds!)  After we settled in and dropped some of our bags, we went back into town to do our laundry and go to get ice cream. (The laundry mat was across the street from the ice cream shop.)

The oldest working ice cream shop in the world!

It's been here forever....

Brooke Shields was here among other celebrities.

George makes the best ice cream dishes. He is 92.

George and Thelma are "THE TEAM". George is hilarious!

A great photo poster of George and Thelma from back in the day.

Really a wonderful couple!!

So much memorbilia inside the shop.

The banner says it all.

A landmark on the national registry.

When you go into the ice cream shop you feel like you have been transported back 50 years or so.  We ordered chocolate ice cream sodas which were served in old fashioned glass soda glasses.  Thelma had said that George makes the syrup himself, and you could tell by the taste. 

George and Thelma were a comedy team.  Thelma was the straight “man” and George always had a zinger.  Everything that came out of his mouth was a wise crack.  We were amazed at their fortitude at their ages.  What a gem of a place!

Pictures from Blanchard Island IL along the Mississippi River (July 26, 2012)

Pata pulls into Blanchard Island Park on the Mississipi River (IL side)

The park is large, beautiful and empty. We get our pick of sites.

Set up the camp with a beautiful view.

Sunset on the Mississipi River.

And later, a moon nighlight.

So quiet and peaceful on the river.

And so very calm in the early morning.

Lunch in Kawanee

Cafe in Kawanee where we lunched.

MM pictures everywhere inside the cafe.

The cafe is big on signage.

Pata studies the map in the glorious air conditioned cafe.

Okay Pata, drink some decaf now.

"Yes, said the waitress, "I will fill your bottles with ice."

Pictures of Henry, IL

Henry welcomes us.

Illinois river has lots of birds.

Looking down from the bridge over the Illinois River as we cross into Henry.

Bridge over the River Illinois.

It's quiet in Henry - a jaywalkers dream.

Pata goes off to explore a Henry sidestreet.

Like so many buildings in the small towns, this one is vacant.

Off the bike for a leg stretch.

A Church out in the open.