Today was the shortest ride yet. I had a couple of thirty mile days and that’s below what my average should be but today was15. Let me back up a bit, after my international breakfast (french toast in place of pancakes)at the town diner I hit the road and was warmly greeted with strong winds in my face and rain that felt like little pieces of ice hitting my face. I kept a slow and steady approach and was determined to make it to the next town before I took a break but my hands were just to cold so I had to stop by a bridge,for shelter, and put on my thick winter gloves. As soon as those gloves were on my ride was a lot better and I was able to tolerate the weather better.
In the town of Hebron I stopped in to a pizza joint (aka the only open place in town) and had some pasta and warmed up a little. While eating I was scouting out my next target to ride to and warmup with a coffee or more pasta and I saw that 13 miles down the road was a nice sounding place called Glenn Ullin. After I looked at the clock and saw what time it was and judging the amount of time it took me to do the first fifteen I realized that I’d be ending my day in the Glenn. The goal was Bismark but a the rate I was going it was going to take me six hours to get to the town past Glenn so forget about Bismark at least until tomorrow.
I stopped into the town grocery store and it was, just like all the big boat like cars that grandmas are driving around, a time warp back to the seventies. I’m almost like a time traveler it sometimes seems. Who’s that guy with the reflective neon jacket from the future? Anyway, out from of the grocery I was opening up my generic bottle of Advil and this big is dodge pickup truck window rolls down and this guy with a long grey pony tail sitting on the passengers side asked me if I was going cross country. I walk over to the truck and tell him where I started and how long its been and the whole speech that I repeat a few times a day. And the guy in the driver side (long brown ponytail) asks me where I’m going to today. I admitted that I was going really slowly and I would only make it to Glenn. He says “yep that’s just right down the road”, with an almost Fargo the movie accent. Then he goes on to tell me that every Memorial Day weekend a bunch of biker go there and camp in the park and get drunk and rowdy so I might not get much sleep there. I said I’d be an easy target to get messed with with my bicycle and bright yellow jacket. One guy replied “they’re all a-bunch of drunk assholes,I know because I’m one of em.”He went on to say he usually goes but it was just too cold this year. After talking about all my options we figure out the best thing for me to do would be to set up camp in Hebron and ride on tomorrow. They told me to hope in the truck and they’d show me to a boy scout camp where I could set up. After the ride to the camp and back I thanked them both with a firm sincere hand shake and road off to set up my tent away from the bikers. I kept on thinking if I hadn’t run into these guys I would have pedaled right into a big biker fest on my ten speed. Talk about taking a knife to a gunfight. I’m sure it would have been fine but it’s better to be safe than sorry,plus I would have probably said something stupid like “no one told me it was leather night” and who knows if that would be funny to them or not.