October 23, 2008
just like mom's, I meet johnwayne, everbody's always on a diet, dillo
Day Thirty Two
"I never have really become accustomed to the 'John.' Nobody ever really calls me John.... I've always been 'Duke' or 'Marion' or 'John Wayne.' It's a name that goes well together, and it's like one word: John Wayne.
- John Wayne -
<><><><><><>
On the way out of Lockhart I stopped at the Kountry Kitchen for breakfast. It was advertised as being "Just Like Mom's."
It's odd, though.... I don't remember a cigarette dancing on my mom's lower lip as she spoke. Nor do I remember the casual swearing, or the seven extra chins, or allowing anyone to smoke in our dining room. The food was different, too. Every single one of the main menu items included meat, and looking at what was on the plates of other customers there appeared to be a lot of grease involved.... the food was mostly shiny. "Just like Mom's" ...... Definitely odd.
For the past several hundred miles, even in New Mexico, oil wells have been dotting the landscape. They bob up and down like decrepit Drinking Birds with rhythmic, squeaky joints, rusted and seemingly eternal. In this desolation the keening sounds lonely.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
After seventeen miles of another stiff headwind I arrived in Bateman (pop. 12) which, as far as I can tell has a single building: a church. Bateman Baptist Church stands defiant, the final domino on the path to becoming a ghost town.
I was happy to see it. The wind was relentless, and I needed something to block it, even if only for a few minutes, so I pulled over and sat on the ground on the leeward side of the church relishing the relative respite from the roar.
After about five minutes a young woman who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties appeared from the outbuilding behind the church and asked me if I'd like to come inside where it's warmer. My plan was to make this a very brief stop since I'd only pedaled seventeen miles, so I declined, and let her know that I was alright just sitting by myself trying to hide from the wind as I slowly go insane. I didn't actually say the last part.
Occasionally, I forget that, on a bike trip at least, the going is more important than the getting there. I start thinking about how many miles I've done, and how many more I have to do, and my average speed, and the wind direction.... and I forget to stop and look at the world around me, at where I am and how fortunate I am to be here.
When she came out five minutes later and asked me again, I said yes. This is one of the reasons for the trip.
I followed her into the Fellowship Hall of the church where she and another woman were preparing for the Fall Festival which will be starting in a couple of days.
For the first ten minutes or so, I sat quietly in the pleasant warmth while the two women decorated the room. There was a Christian song playing in the background.
When I say “a Christian song,” I mean a single song, as in one song... over and over and over and over.
Eventually, the one who invited me in, Stacy, asked me a few questions about where I started and where I was going. After that, the conversation flowed more freely.
I learned that the reason the song was playing over and over is that Stacy will be singing it in a couple of days at the Festival. Someone just asked her last night if she would, so she's trying to memorize it. Since she has Attention Deficit Disorder, she just plays it in the background and lets it soak in. She made me some hot tea and we continued talking.
Della, who is somewhat older, was also helping. She seemed nice, but was very quiet most of the time.
Stacy is really proud of her three children. Johnwayne Cinch (Johnwayne is his first name, Cinch is his middle name) was in the room with us, and played with his toys while the ladies worked.
TJ is her other son, older, and Cody, the only girl, is older still. Stacy told me about Cody's ability to pitch a softball 95 miles an hour, and she's only a freshman in high school. Perhaps she was exaggerating, or perhaps I should call the Houston Astros or the Texas Rangers baseball teams, especially since she can also hit. [2024 edit: the average fastball in the Major League Baseball league in 2022 was 93.9 mph]
She asked me my name so she could put me on the "Traveling Mercies" prayer list. When I heard that term I knew I was in the South (that, as well as "sanctification," "the Holy Ghost," and a "Praise Report."). I told her I appreciated it, and silently hoped that Traveling Mercies included a nice, strong tailwind.
My body and heart warmed, I started riding again.
In Bastrop (pop 5,340) I stopped for more barbecue at Cartwright's BBQ - eating it while I can.
The man in front of me, in his mid- to late sixties with thick silver hair and black-rimmed glasses, had a gut which entered a room a full three minutes before he did.
"I want a sliced beef sandwich. And leave alla the fat on it, willya?"
The kid cutting the meat paused, glanced at me quickly with an incredulous look and a crooked smile, then started making the sandwich.
The man who hadn't seen his feet in thirty years then added,
"Everbody's always on a diet, ya know."
I discreetly tried to get a profile picture, but wasn't able to.
I'm camping tonight, so I stopped at a convenience store and picked up some bread, milk, and a few other things.
Bastrop State Park and Buescher State Park are almost connected, and the road between them looks just like the park roads. The Parks and connecting road are beautiful places to ride, and the fact that I only saw two cars the entire time was an added bonus.
Both parks have some steep grades.... not particularly long, but steeper than anything I climbed in the Rockies. There were some hills that, if the peak had been twenty feet farther, I'd have been walking my bike. Even in my granny gear, pedaling as hard as I could, I was really struggling.
The downhills were nice though.
As you may have gathered, not much can cause me to brake to a stop when I'm going downhill.... severed arteries (mine or others), a nuclear blast within thirty feet, Elvis hitchhiking ... all of these things can wait. However, I did see something on the side of the road that caused me to immediately slam on my brakes, turn around, and even pedal back uphill....
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I don't know why they're so fascinating to watch. Maybe because an armadillo is so.... I don't know, prehistoric?
| Heart | 2 | Comment | 0 | Link |
| Heart | 3 | Comment | 0 | Link |
An interesting fact about armadillos is that if you handle them you can contract Hansen's disease. The other name for Hansen's disease is leprosy. It's unlikely you'll contract it, but it is possible. It brought to mind my dad telling me about how, when he was a small child, he and his siblings would take turns grabbing the tail of an armadillo and have it pull them several yards over the dirt fields. (He never got leprosy) There are fifteen specialized clinics for Hansen's Disease in the United States. Four of them are in Texas.
At the entrance to the Buescher campground I met a local family of bicyclists who were out for an evening ride, two parents and four kids. I couldn't help but notice how extremely well behaved the children were. It shouldn't be surprising, though, when you consider that they were out on bikes instead of huddled around a television.
The father is interested in taking a trip someday. We chatted about that for a few minutes and I let him know that it's certainly possible with kids, and related the trip I took with my 14- and 16-year old sons.
Once inside the campground I pitched my tent on the grass and took a shower. In the bathroom I didn't realize that the lights automatically go off after a certain period of time. Fortunately, when it happened I was standing right next to the door instead of buck naked and dripping wet with soap in my eyes on the other side of the room - all I had to do was open the door and the lights came back on.
I can imagine the horror I would've inflicted on someone had they opened the door to see a wet, naked man with wide eyes and outstretched arms slowly shuffling toward them.
Buescher turned out to be a nice place to camp. There were only three other campsites being used, and all of the campers were quiet.
That night, lying comfortably in my sleeping bag, I heard movement outside my tent. Some rustling, then a pause, then more rustling. It sounded exactly like my armadillo friend, but was probably just a raccoon. I thought about poking my head outside to take a look but I was too cozy.
One of the last things I heard before drifting off to sleep was a coyote howling off in the distance, a pleasant, if baleful sound.
<><><><><><><><><><><>
distance: 46 miles
average speed: 11.3 mph
maximum speed: 31.6 mph
time on bike: 4:04:07
cumulative miles: 1540.5
Today's ride: 46 miles (74 km)
Total: 1,541 miles (2,480 km)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 2 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 2 |
1 month ago