Day 11, Wednesday, September 18

Bob taking a picture of Larry in front of the Oklahoma state-line sign. Oklahoma is Larry's native state.

We entered our fifth state today, Oklahoma. The Texas panhandle went by quickly, thanks again to thirty-mile-per-hour tail winds. Obviously our evening human sacrifices in the hotel parking lots have been paying off. The next few days we may not be so lucky, though. Rumors of a cold front, bringing vicious side winds from the north, were circulating around the group throughout the day. Even Lon said the next few days could be hard. Lon is such a strong rider that you have to add forty to sixty percent more difficultly to anything he says to get a more accurate idea of what his estimates might mean for normal cyclists. So my purpose in life for the next several days will be finding as many shameless-wheel-sucking opportunities as possible. Otherwise I might stop having fun again and think about taking a day in the van with Bisti to recover.

The landscape changed today almost as soon as we crossed into Oklahoma. There are a lot more trees here than in Texas. My guess is that someone planted them at some point to keep the gigantic fields of red dirt from blowing away. I think I even saw an over-turned turtle in the bike lane at one point, but by the time I realized what it was I didn't feel like turning around to put it back on its feet.

I forgot to mention that yesterday small tumbleweeds would actually blow across the road. Also yesterday one of our rest stops was in front of the Cadillac Ranch. After hearing about it for years it was a little anti-climactic. It was just a bunch of cars sticking out of a giant field. The cars were so far away they would have shown up as small specks in a photo, so I didn't even bother wasting the film. I figure I can take half a dozen or so photos of my Honda at home, cut them in half, and turn them sideways if I ever get nostalgic for what it felt like to see the Ranch. A whole bus load of school children had walked out into the field to see the cars up close, though, so I guess if you're not worried about getting dirt in your cycling cleats it's something to do.

A couple of funny things happened this morning. First, just after we left the hotel, I stopped to take a picture of a giant sign with a drawing of a beaver on it. I had got a picture of "Beaver Street" somewhere in Arizona, and I missed taking a photo of the "Beaver Dam" river a few days later. So far on the trip I have taken photos from my bike, and have taken photos when I happened to be stopped anyway, but this was the first time I intentionally stopped to take a photo, since I regretted not having stopped for the "Beaver Dam" sign.

Bob from Davis, California, warding off evil spirits at some random point in the trip. Bob could really turn a phrase and made a bunch of us laugh throughout the trip. I can't imagine doing the ride without him and Larry.

I was riding with a group so I yelled out "Stopping, pulling off to the right!" so that I wouldn't make anyone behind me crash. I took out my camera and was about to snap away when I read the sign more closely. It said, "Live Nudes" and "Gentleman's Club." "I'm not taking a picture of THAT!", I said. I felt dirty and embarrassed, but for the next twenty minutes, Bob from Davis, California, thought that was about the funniest thing he had ever seen, that the one girl in a group of about fifteen guys had unwittingly stopped to take a photo of the "live nudes" sign. I think I saw him wipe tears from his eyes he was laughing so hard. "What did you think it was, an unfinished furniture store?", he'd say. Or, "What's wrong, didn't you want that for the family album?" And, "I guess if your name were 'Sarah Hooters' you would have known what the sign was for." He also said that if I had any character at all I would put that story in my daily report, so here it is.

E. was and incredibly determined and supportive rider and it was truly inspiring to see him out there every day.

Shortly after that we were riding along for about four miles with the wind at our sides. E. (that's his name, "E", like the vowel), who's bigger than me, was actually using me to shield him from the wind. I tried to hang in there but after a couple of miles I told him that I was coming around him so he could shelter me for a while. "Oh no you're not," he said. "You've still got two miles left until we turn to have a tailwind." It was pretty funny, he was so quick with his response.

I went around him anyway and realized that my rear tire was dead flat, partially accounting for my struggling in the wind. I pulled over and a few seconds later, John from Placerville, California -- who had been scaring me with PAC Tour horror stories at dinner a few nights earlier -- pulled over to help. I gave him a thumbs up, meaning I was set and didn't need him to stop, but he wanted to help anyway. I thought that was kind of nice, to have the moral support. I took the wheel off the bike and he took it from me and started to take the tire off. "Are you going to fix it for me?" I asked, confused. He joked that he needed the practice. I thought that was a little odd, no one had ever offered to actually fix a flat tire for me before and I didn't need him to do that, but it didn't seem worth arguing with him.

John was a good sport about my complaining then ditching him after he stopped to help me fix a flat. I greatly appreciate John helping me box up my bike at the end of the ride for the flight home since I had no idea what I was doing and would have been stuck without him.

It turns out that John is the slowest flat tire fixer I have ever seen in my life. He practically set up camp and got a pot of coffee going just to make sure that he was doing the job right. I eventually started yelling at him, "No, no! Why are you doing it THAT way?" I was half laughing as I said it, but as he worked I was watching the majority of riders and all of my drafting opportunities for the day pass by. I took the wheel back from him at one point to put the tire back over the rim. In the meantime, Lon had stopped and waited to make sure that we had everything under control. As soon as the wheel was back on my bike, Lon took off and I sprinted to catch him so I could draft him through the last few miles of side wind. I thought John would try to catch up to Lon, too, but he didn't. So, after he had stopped to help me and I got frustrated with him for it, I ended up leaving him behind. I feel badly about the incident and can maybe offer to buy him a milkshake or something later to make up for it. Another option would be to just avoid him for the rest of the trip, so I'll have to see how well I can pull that off.

Erick, Oklahoma, has got to be the smallest town we've stayed in so far. When we passed through town it looked like one of those Stephen King novels where a deadly virus has wiped out everyone in town. Everything looks normal on the surface until you realize there's no people, dogs, cats or barely anything moving at all. I got dinner at a Subway, which also serves as a gas station and convenience store. You could even buy combo TV/VCRs, there. I did see a motorcycle guy in there, though, who had "Santa Cruz" and "Watsonville" written on the sleeve of his t-shirt. I asked him if he was really from Santa Cruz and he was. I told him I was too and that I had ridden my bike from San Diego and was heading to Charleston. He seemed pretty impressed. He said, "I rode from California, too, but on a different kind of bike." It was kind of nice seeing someone from home in such and obscure little place.

I rounded out the day by asking crew member Bill what "Calf Fries" were. It was written on the side of the only restaurant in town, next the words, "Pies" and "Steaks." There was a pause as people struggled to find the best way to explain it. "Don't tell her," Susan said finally. "She doesn't need to know." "Calf testicles", came the reply. And so I embarrassed myself again. I suppose I'm the only American who doesn't know what calf fries are. It's probably even on the US Citizenship exam. The things you learn riding your bike across the country.

We have three consecutive hard days coming up. I'm not sure what to say about that, but if I can hang in there, by the end of the three days we'll be well over half-way done with the trip in terms of both miles and days, and all of the really difficult days should truly be behind us. So I'll just have to see how it goes, and to try and enjoy myself as much as possible.

There have been several incredibly loud and sharp blasts of thunder -- like guns going off -- for the last few minutes now, with lightening and rain is pouring down in buckets, flooding the parking lot, so that should make tomorrow interesting. Think I'm gunna unbury my rain jacket from the bottom of my gear bag. It was 104 degrees when we rolled into town this afternoon, so I've already experienced more weather in Oklahoma in one afternoon than I do in Santa Cruz in an entire year.