Random thoughts about the trip so far

The food in the middle of the country is all beige. But, there is some very good pie.

Pretty much at any time on any given day, it's possible to watch an episode of NCIS. Which is a good thing.

Heat and miles and miles of flatland riding have their own kind of pain.

There are more nice people than any other kind.

We really miss Roger, Chris and Rick.

Small towns in America are losing their heartbeat. Instead of lively business districts with a town square, many have motels and fast food near an interstate, without any kind of business in the heart of town.

Small town carnivals are still really fun where they happen.

If someone mentions something like "the place where the elephant died," go see it. It's one of our only regrets about the trip that we didn't.

My new favorite American euphemism is that we are no longer burying our dead in "cemeteries." Apparently, that is just too death-y. Rather, we plant them (I guess) in places called "Memory Gardens."

Clyde to Cleveland to Pymatuning & Home!

Our ride from Clyde to Cleveland included some beautiful views of Lake Erie. There are a number of lovely towns right on the shore, so we found a great place where we could eat lunch outdoors. At the next table were a woman and her daughter just finishing up. They had the usual questions about the bike and the trip, and after we covered those things, we heard a little about their background. One of my favorite lines from the whole trip came out of that conversation. The woman was 83, a WWII bride from Prague. She still had a little Czech accent, and her daughter was the second youngest of seven children.

The woman, whose name we never caught, explained that in Czechoslovakia she had been trained to be a teacher. So eventually she wanted to go back to teaching. So when her youngest was a year old, as she put it, "I said to my husband, 'Enough with the kids already!" When she looked into it, she found that Ohio wouldn't accept her degree from Czechoslovakia so she went to get a four-year college degree. She was, for some reason, determined that she would teach the full 35 years, so she did not retire until she was 79! Then, she subbed for three more. She taught first grade all that time. Amazing.

The road we were on periodically had a bike lane, which gave us a buffer from traffic. The only problem was that it would disappear without warning. The lake shore road carried its share of traffic, since we were essentially in a resort area. But both the views of the lake and the mansions along the shore made the sight-seeing worthwhile.

We reached Cleveland via a bike route that twisted and turned at first, but finally straightened out enough to bring us within blocks of our hotel. It was obvious that bike-commuting is much more popular there than in hilly Pittsburgh. We had made reservations at the Holiday Inn in the middle of town. It is in a restored old bank building, with marble floors and a gorgeous lobby, but really old and small elevators. Since we couldn't cram the tandem into one of the elevators, we wheeled it up a ramp and they kept it in the office for us. (I removed the Pittsburgh flag we had on it, so as to reduce temptation!) It was a shame we couldn't take it to the room, since our room was so big we probably could have ridden it in there. It was a great treat after the string of motels we had just completed.

Our friends Pat and Dale had enthusiastically agreed to meet us for dinner, for two reasons: we hadn't seen them in quite a while and we were planning to eat at Fat Fish Blue, a Cajun restaurant which was also one of their favorites. After all the bland, beige food of the Midwest, we enjoyed our jambalaya and collards to the hilt. Afterwards we strolled down E. 4th St. for dessert and music. All in all, it was a great way to enter our own universe again.

Ironically, the next day's ride was by far the most difficult of the whole trip. Who knew that there are rollercoaster hills between Cleveland and Pymatuning. It was hot, the road was fairly busy and narrow for most of the way, and by the time we reached Chardon for lunch, we were ready for a break. As luck would have it, I also had a sinus headache, which makes me unconsciously clench my shoulders. We rode around the square and spotted a Chinese restaurant and a pizza shop. We pulled over near a beauty salon, outside of which was a woman with a massage chair. She recommended the pizza shop, and I realized that I could have a quick massage and lunch -- bonus!! It turned out that the pizza-by-the-slice wouldn't be ready for about 10 minutes so I fit in a wonderful relaxing massage and then had gourmet pizza. My headache was gone by the end of lunch.

A man we talked to on the square as we prepared to leave assured us that we had already done the most difficult of the riding. He was right; traffic eased up and the hills flattened out some between there and Pymatuning. We'd left our car at the house of our friends Vicki and Terry, and when we finally turned onto their street, it was with a definite feeling of accomplishment. We quickly broke down the bike and gear, loaded the car and headed over to Conneaut Lake, where Bob John and his mom were at their cottage. Bob had kindly agreed to let us use the shower there to make the drive back to Pittsburgh more pleasant. After showers and some great conversation with some of their friends, we made our way back home.

A stop for dinner on the way home had a celebratory feel, but also was in a way a letdown. During a trip like that, even in the towns on the TransAm where they see long-distance cyclists all the time, we ended up feeling like celebrities. Everyone had questions about the trip, the bike, and we had some great conversations. At the Log Cabin Inn on Rte 19, we were anonymous. Without our cycling gear, we blended in with the crowd. So, we've already started the plans for the final leg of the trip: Pymatuning to the Atlantic. Exactly what route we take and where we end up is still up in the air, but it will actually be the shortest piece of all. Looking at the U.S. map on which Bob marked our route so far, it's amazing to me that we have actually done it.

Rensselaer to Peru to Hessen Cassell to Napoleon to Clyde

We left Rensselaer in the quiet of a Sunday morning and rode, feeling stronger for having rested, until we got to a little town on the Tippecanoe River called Buffalo. We stopped for an early lunch, and could have paid for the rest of our trip had we the forethought to charge for looks at our bike. A whole family obviously dressed for a day on the water was so fascinated by our story that they took turns going out to "see this bike." One of the women commented, "I don't think I could stare at the back of my husband's head for that long!"

Continuing eastward, we met a man from Palo Alto and his teenage son. They had flown out to Boston and were making their way back to the west coast, camping as they went. The father rode a recumbent and the son a Trek 520. They looked a little worse for the wear, and we wondered at their progress, since it was after 2:00 p.m. and they had only traveled about 15 miles that day.

Peru was fairly uneventful, except for the convenience store that sported a giant chicken on a trailer. We took a picture, since it reminded me of the one that apparently stands near my cousin Sandy's house out in California. Had we been feeling a little more ambitious, we would have hitched the trailer to our bike and made off with the giant chicken.

Riding through the Indiana countryside gave us the most varied view we'd had so far. The Indiana highway department is experimenting with wildflowers as ground cover on the side of highways. That way, they don't mow or spray and it made for very pretty scenery. Our lunch stop was in Huntington, a beautiful town whose claim to fame is that it's the hometown of Dan Quayle. That didn't spoil our appetites too much, though, and we had lunch at Nick's Kitchen. Nick's has been in operation for over 70 years and it was easy to see why.

We enjoyed Bison burgers, hoping that we might be actually eating the bison who tried to kill us several years ago. They were delicious, and we followed them up with heaven in a bowl: homemade pies with ice cream. Bob had his first-ever rhubarb pie and I had peach. We reluctantly headed down the road for the Country Inn in Hessen Cassell. Not exactly the Waldorf, but for $35.00 (cash only), what do you want?

The highlight of Hessen Cassell was the Nine Mile Restaurant, where we had dinner and then breakfast the next day. At that point, we were less than a day's ride from Ohio, which was beginning to sound like home to us. Our ride yesterday took us into Napoleon, a beautiful town on the Maumee River. Our motel was close enough to the heart of town for a nice walk across the bride to another long-time eatery. We have been beginning to see more variety in food choices as we've come farther east, and the possibility of a glass of wine with dinner. (You don't get that much in diners!)

Today was a gorgeous day for riding, with a cool north wind and just enough sun to make it pleasant. A mid-morning stop in Tontogany was serendipitous. We were the only customers in the general store and restaurant. We were thinking about having some ice cream, when I noticed a sign that said "Betty Shaffer's Homemade Pies." I asked the woman in charge (who, by the way, was only in charge of the store until her mother arrived; after that she would join her father baling in the fields.) She informed us that Betty was an 83-year-old baker and that she had two pieces of red raspberry pie left. A few of you will get the import of this statement: that pie rivaled Allison Shellito's. I have not tasted raspberry pie like that for 25 years.

It fortified us for our ride to Clyde. The frustration is that parts of us could ride forever. Our stamina is good, our legs feel strong, all the aches and pains that plague us during everyday life are absent. However, OUR BUTTS ARE SORE!!! In spite of that today's ride went quickly, and we had the treat of riding the last 10 miles into Clyde on a paved bike trail where we met a couple on a tandem recumbent who were also doing the country on the installment plan. As we ambled down the trail, he handed me his card and told us that when we cross New York State next year, he hosts cyclists and his house is just a mile off the Erie Canal Trail. So we even have one of our stops for next year planned.

Our destination for tomorrow is Cleveland. Our plan is to stay in a really nice hotel near where we stayed with our friends Rose and John back in March. Our mouths are already watering for the Cajun food at Fat Fish Blue, and then it's on to our car parked near Pymatuning Lake. It's hard to believe we're this close to the end.

Galesburg to Henry to Stelle to Rensselaer

We left Galesburg with a lunch stop in Wyoming, IL. It actually had the look of a far west town, minus the cranky women. As we stood staring back and forth trying to choose between the two cafes in town, a woman driving by yelled from her car, "That one's better!" She points across the street and backed up her opinion by pulling in and entering. We followed and she recommended the local specialty, homemade tenderloin. Apparently the rage in central Illinois, it's a pork tenderloin slice, pounded thin, breaded and fried. Bob ordered one and it was delicious.

The woman was joined by a granddaughter who had just finished 8th grade. Her present from her evidently rich grandmother was a week-long trip to NY! You can imagine the turn the conversation took from there, as we took over recommending eateries, shows and other things to do. We were hoping to be adopted as honorary grandkids, since a recent high school graduate in the family was treated to an Alaskan cruise.

Our ride through the countryside that afternoon was reminiscent of Holland but with a modern spin: about a thousand wind generators joined us in taking advantage of the brisk west wind. About halfway to Henry we met a westbound man on a recumbent suffering from the dreaded rear-rim breakdown. Headed for Nebraska, he would be held up a few days in the next town awaiting shipment of a new rear wheel.

Our arrival in Henry on Wednesday coincided with the carnival that was in town for a few days. We settled into our motel on the river and adjacent to a marina, got cleaned up and headed just up the hill to Nan's for dinner. We dined lightly, considering that carnival food awaited us for dessert. Bob downed a funnel cake the size of a small Illinois county and I enjoyed a gooey caramel apple. Too late we realizedwe could have ordered an elephant ear in honor of Norma Jean.

Breakfast the next morning was at Nan's again, proximity being a factor. We chatted with a pair of ladies at the next table and then spent the meal poring over our route for the day. When we got up to pay, Nan told us that one of the women had already taken care if our "ticket" as they are known here. Another to add to our list of "Road Angels."

a looong ride Thursday included a lunch stop at a Casey's (convenience store) where we had a long discussion with a farmer/truck driver about the vagaries of farming and a drink stop at a bookstore which houses the biggest collection of paranormal and conspiracy theory books we'd ever seen. A few miles down the road was our stop for the night, the Green House B & B run by Mark and Guia Hoffman. They were members of Stelle, a nearby "Intentional Community" they had once belonged to, but which had dissolved. Mark consults for Westinghouse and is therefore in Pittsburgh several times each year, so we gave him our email address so that we could get together and make sure he sees something besides Monroeville.

Guia, originally from the Philippines, is an excellent cook and hostess. We had a great time talking and being pampered. The next morning came too soon and we headed off to Rensselaer, IN fortified by a delicious breakfast and with a care package of fresh fruit supplied by Guia. Our ride here was longer than we thought it would be and we are now comfortably resting in a little motel next door to a great Mexican restaurant. We are celebrating the 4th by taking our first rest day of the trip. It's well-timed, since it's also the first day of rain. We've mapped the next two days and are catching our breath and giving our butts a much- needed break from the saddles!

For today, the toughest thing we'll do is try to figure out what time it is. Indiana does this crazy thing where two blocks of counties stay in Central time with the rest of the state in Eastern time. We're on the very edge of this and it's really confusing. Fortunately we have no appts. Today!