I will start off this some-what serious post with a story of the funniest and most un-serious thing to happen to me thus far on this trip. On this trip I have found my “cycling soul-mate,” her name is Roseanne she is one of the happiest most cheerful joyful people I have ever met and we spend probably about 90% of our time on the bike together. It is key to find a person like this on this trip because first and foremost it is much better to ride with others than it is to ride alone. But what makes a rider your soul-mate? First it is key that a person be at the same or a similar level of riding as you. This is of the utmost importance because there is nothing more frusterating than going either faster or slower than you would like to be going. It is also important that this person is someone you want to spend several hours of suffering with every single day; riding with someone who you like talking to is much more pleasant than well, someone you don’t like talking to, obviously… Anyway Roseanne is my personal biker soul-mate because she is someone who challenges me on the bike when she crushes up hills like a little rabbit, but is also a complete hoot and an absolute pleasure to be around.
So one day in Missouri Rose, Caleb, and I are riding together as usual, rapidly approaching the deep state of depression that arises from hill after hill after wall-like hill, we stop at a “Convenience Feed” store in Ben Davis Missouri. We go in to refill our empty bottles and we meet the clerk in the store and start talking to him about various things like Missouri and the cyclists he has had in his store. When we asked him about our destination town for that night, Hartville, we inquired about possibly grocery options; to this inquiry Ben, the clerk, tells us in a deep southern drawl , “There was a grocery store down there but it burned down.” “Oh no!” says rose “What happened?!” To this Ben simply says, “Well it caught on fire.” I tell you this only to further your mental picture of what this clerk was like and what our experience with him was like, which will indefinitely enhance the remainder of this story. So we ask him where the nearest water is, because he had none he could spare, and we head out the door to complete the remaining 20 miles of the day. But before we could leave the parking lot, Rose puts one foot into her pedal clipping it in, so that it will not come out unless twisted, with the intention of resting on her leg that was not clipped in. This plan however went horribly wrong when her momentum carried her in the opposite direction causing her, in the most epic fashion possible, to tumble down on the the hard gravel drive-way. Rose being the person she is immediately begins laughing hysterically as she exclaimes “That really hurt!!!” We helped her get up and brush herself off only to find her elbow was pretty badly cut up. We told her to go inside and get washed up before we left. As Caleb and I wait in the drive way for several minutes we suddenly she Rose run out of the “Convenience Feed” screaming bloody murder (while laughing obviously) with her arm in the air. Caleb and I look at each other in horror wondering what we have just let happen. As we go over to investigate we see Ben holding an unmarked white spray bottle that he had obviously just sprayed on her cut. As we looked at the bottle we realized that first of all this bottle had been just taken off of the shelves of his store and used, not as intended, as an anti-septic. This solution of Bright Purple and meant to be used on cattle as a way to mark their hide for whatever reason needed. So once again I found myself in a situation I can honestly say I never expected to be in, watching a friend shreak in pain after having been sprayed with an animal product, in the middle of Missouri. “Don’t worry” said Ben “I know the bottle might say not to use on people but we do it all the time,” we could now rest assured.
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