The Big Muddy

Today was decision day. Good ones, questionable ones and determinative ones. There was even indecision (and still is, because I’m not sure if I’m done for the day or not). Remember, “if you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice” - Rush.

First things first. Bingo points for anyone that had “buy a pack of cigarettes for the first time”.

Fresh on the heels of a good day yesterday, the first decision came unexpectedly early. The Super 8 Motel brekky choice was Raisin Bran or Frosted Flakes and an assortment of pre-wrapped sweet rolls and bread products. The Raisin Bran wasn’t going to last me long, so I supplemented with a sausage McMuffin across the street. I’d categorize that one as “questionable” but it was definitely better than the sweet rolls would have been. The next one came up while I was eating. Getting started in the morning is always very difficult. I can find many ways to dawdle and avoid getting on the bike. One of my favorites is looking at the map and spending way more time than necessary figuring out which way I’m going to go and where my target ending spot is. I had two choices. The wind was blowing distinctly to the southeast. One of the highways out of town went straight to the southeast and over the Missouri River. The problem was that no matter which app I used, it would not give me a route over that bridge. Trying to map just to the other side of the bridge (perhaps 5 miles from my start), never resulted in a route fewer than 40 miles as it sent me over a different bridge and then back on the other side.

Geographical aside: The Missouri River is the most defining feature from here for 2300 miles to the north and west. It starts near Three Forks, Montana at the confluence of the Jefferson and Madison Rivers. Once past Great Falls, Montana, there are about a dozen bridges across it for the next 1000 miles. They come a bit more frequently from Omaha to St. Louis, but not often enough to give a guy on a bike many choices.

Back to my decision, I could only imagine the bridge I was being detoured around. Probably a million feet high, with two lanes barely wide enough for vehicles going in opposite directions to squeeze past one another (only if they fold in their side view mirrors). Definitely no shoulder. Probably a steel deck. So I made the same and safe decision to follow the map(s) guidance and go east then south, rather than southeast. This is the determinative part. Had I risked it for the biscuit, I would likely be 30 miles south of where I currently am. That would have made a couple different outcomes of the wager more likely. I can’t be accused of rigging the bet, since all I have is places but no idea who bet on them.

Gambling aside: Apparently, one reader (see photo) of this blog is absolutely FURIOUS at how this is playing out, accusing me of “putzing” around KC and how it’s simply not fair. He reads the updates nightly, or more likely has his wife read them to him, and then goes on tireless rants and offers route decisions vastly superior to the ones I made that day.

The days third decision came about while I was taking the safe route. The lands along the north side of the Missouri are low and flat and atraight. Today, they were also very much downwind. The wind was definitely pushing more east than south so upon further reflection, my choice was sound. I covered about 20 miles quickly and found myself in a little town with a Casey’s. It was too early for anything substantive and all I really needed to do was use the bathroom, but I felt bad so I got a candy bar. While I was waiting in line, there were several guys in front of me that appeared to be a construction crew.

Chip Scheller Aside: This is a long one. If any of you watched Derry Girls, think Uncle Colm. If any of you didn’t, you have missed one of the funniest shows ever created. There is exactly one person reading this blog who knows of Chip Scheller and perhaps a couple others who have heard of him. Chip was a year ahead of me (class of ‘81) at Pittsford Sutherland High School. In a nod to thinking outside the box, students sat in alphabetical order in home room, resulting in Chip sitting next to my sister. A few years went by, I went to, and miraculously graduated from Rice. Even more miraculously, I met Kelly and we started dating. After she graduated, she went off to Austin to go to law school. I was already living up there. On the day she moved up, one of her friends that helped her move got invited by another mutual friend of theirs to a house party off campus somewhere near UT. We go to the party and Kelly and her friend go inside. I know no one so I just linger on the porch by the keg. At some point, a girl comes out to get a beer. Turns out it’s her house and she strikes up a conversation. It goes something like this:

Girl: You’re not from around here, are you? Where are you from?

Me: I grew up in New York

Girl: I know someone from New York

Me: 🤦🤦 (thinking there’s only 20 million people in New York). I’m from upstate

Girl: So is he

Me: I’m from Rochester

Girl: So is he

Me: I’m actually not from Rochester, I’m from Pittsford.

Girl: So is he. Do you know Chip Scheller?

Me: Yes I do!

Girl: He’s my boyfriend and he’ll be here in about 20 minutes.

Me: !!!!!!!

Fast forward about 25 years. We have moved from Austin to Houston to Portland to Spokane to Vancouver. We have joined a golf club and I’m enjoying a round with a buddy of mine. There is another friend of his playing with us. After a few holes, it’s easy to tell that this friend of a friend is a really nice guy and we strike up a conversation. It goes something like this:

Friend: You’re not from around here, are you? Where are you from?

Me: I grew up in New York

Friend: So did I

Me: 🤦🤦 (thinking there’s only 20 million people in New York). I’m from upstate

Friend: So am I.

Me: I’m from Rochester

Friend: So am I

Me: I’m actually not from Rochester, I’m from Pittsford.

Friend: I’m from Brighton! (the neighboring town and our bitter rivals) I know a lot of guys that went to Sutherland. Do you know Chip Scheller?

Me: !!!!!!

Turns out my now dear friend, Woody, is a year older than I am and played tennis and hockey against Chip Scheller during high school. He also played tennis against a friend who was in our wedding.

What does Chip Scheller have to do with today’s decision? Here’s the link. Back in the day, Scotty Grinnell and I wanted to buy some beer. Of course the grocery store I worked at, the Star Market in Pittsford, sold beer. Of course everyone at the Star Market also knew me - because I worked there. Being 17 and not very bright, we malingered around outside the store trying to figure out what to do. Who should walk up? You guessed it, Chip Scheller. We gave 18-year old Chip $3 to buy us each a 6-pack (Rolling Rock was only $0.99 a 6-pack). Problem solved. Today while waiting in line, the youngest guy on the crew, none of whom spoke much English, got turned down to buy some tobacco for lack of ID. Eventually, I paid for my candy bar and went outside to eat it. After a couple minutes, the young guy who couldn’t speak any English, came up to me and asked me if I would buy him a small pack of Marlboro Reds and he handed me a $20. He went and waited around the side of the store. I went in, bought the cigarettes using my 60-years old ID and then went back out. As soon as I gave the kid his cigs and his change, one of the store employees came out and berated me that they could lose their tobacco license. I was kind of caught in-between as I’d just bought some tobacco for an underage kid, but I didn’t give two shits if they lost their tobacco license! Chip Scheller has been in my thoughts for the rest of the day.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. Failed at my first lunch stop. Flipped off a driver for the second time on the trip - this time an 18-wheeler who thought it would be funny if he honked right as he came up behind me, even though I was on the shoulder and not in his lane. Had about 8 miles of crosswinds today, but otherwise it was very smooth, fast sailing. So much so, that I had already covered 60 miles before my second, more successful lunch stop. It was about 2:00 so it was time to consider where I was and where I was going. I started checking the map. One town was 30 miles, all crosswinds to get there. Another town was 35 miles. Downwind, but would make It almost a 100-mile day. A third choice about 19 miles away, has a little hotel that got good reviews, especially about its breakfast. Bingo. Sold out. After careful consideration and with the aforementioned reader’s complaints ringing in my head, I decided to stop where I was in Marshall, Missouri. The 30-mile away option was Sedalia, which is where I would have ended up had I risked it over the big, bad, scary bridge.

These guys got around. I was on their “trail” all day. We live in Clark County, Washington and just a few miles up the road is Lewis County. No coincidence

The Big Muddy

The app said it was open!

Tried to figure out how to mount that to the seat post

That can’t be good when that is outside your hotel room door

The complainer