If You Build It, They Will Come

The start and the end of the day today could not have been any different. I described the room at the Quality Inn in yesterday’s post, but it turns out that was just the appetizer. I was leaving the room this morning around 7:00, enjoying the fresh aroma of a soybean processing facility and/or a hog farm somewhere upwind and slowly riding my bike around the side of the hotel to meet Dan. I saw two of Clinton’s finest walking and talking with this woman who appeared to be in her 50’s. As I rode past, all I could hear was something about a “minor offense.” When I got around to the front of the motel, there were two police cars parked there. The officers and the woman came around the front a minute later and the next thing I know, she was cuffed and stuffed into one of the cars. Dan and I decided it was time to leave. We had to ride through “downtown” on our way and we decided to stop at a little diner for breakfast. While we were in there, a county sheriff came in and asked us if those were our bikes leaning against the side of the building. Given that it was him, us, and some 80-something’s in the next room, it seemed like a pretty safe guess. He then proceeded to tell us how someone had a bike stolen from right in front of the jail, just a couple blocks down. Definitely time to leave.

Once we got out of town, we had an easy ride of just over 40 miles up to the little town of Bellevue. A few hills and a steady gentle, mostly helping breeze got us there by 11:15. Because of my credit card screw-up yesterday, our recovery plan involved Dan’s son driving up and meeting us in Bellevue. He could then take us up the road to where we were planning on getting tonight in the first place. This way, we got some miles in and still got back on track. The highlight of the day, however, had nothing to do with the riding, although we had been planning on riding here until the forced detour yesterday. Many of you know I am a baseball fan (currently enjoying a moment of glory as the Orioles are riding a 10-game win streak). Iowa isn’t particularly known for its baseball, unless you happen to be in the middle of a cornfield near Dyersville, home of the one and only Field of Dreams. Actually, there are now two fields, with the newer one hosting an annual MLB game in August. There were parents and kids with gloves and bats all over the original field. People were hitting balls to one another in the outfield with several disappearing into the cornfield. Kids who couldn’t pitch were pitching to parents who couldn’t catch. Most of their time was spent chasing after wildly thrown balls, but none of that mattered, they were on the Field of Dreams. There was no Ray Liotta (RIP) walking out of the corn, but plenty of people reenacting it, including yours truly. It was a great place to spend an hour on a sunny summer afternoon.

The perp wagon outside the hotel this morning in Clinton.

Another reason to hate Clinton. El Tapatío is the worst restaurant in all of Vancouver, WA. It appears to have been exported to Iowa

The Mississippi. I never get tired of looking at it

I guess this is how you advertise in Iowa