Ode to Oklahoma and Toast to Texas

Lot's to share, photos will come in a OK/TX/NM collection, so just read on for now...

We spent last night in Arnett, a tiny town (less than 500 residents) on the West end of Oklahoma. To give you a sense of the size, when we asked where we could get ice cream, one woman said, "Nowhere you can buy...we are like a 3rd world country, you want it you make it yourself." Arnett proved to be a great stay, as we led a bike safety clinic for local youth. Teaching hand signalling in a train formation and going on a ride around the block (with helmets of course!)...fun for all involved. Walking back to our hospitable church hosts, I started up a conversation with Chelsea, a OSU sophomore operating a small fireworks stand. When I asked her why a future dietitian peddled explosives with her summer, she replied, "how else I am going to make $5500 in two months?" Friends and family, let me tell you: people like to blow stuff up in the Panhandle. Kids, parents, and grandparents alike are setting these things off in their backyards left and right. It's wild! I guess you have to entertain yourself somehow...

Waking up early to beat the heat, we witnessed a sunrise over the plains of Oklahoma. I've seen my fair share of great sunrises: over Baltimore from a roof at John Hopkins, over Lake Michigan from the Chicago bike path, atop mountains in the Adirondacks...but this may have been my favorite. Expansive plains were slowly illuminated, grass gaining texture and definition each moment. A portrait sky of burnt orange and baby blue was glazed by a haze of clouds on the horizon. All the while, Bike and Builders were the only inhabitants of the roads and surrounding farmlands. Breathtaking.

Crossing into Texas, Jake and I stumbled upon Gene Bobbie's Donut Shop. What a gem. Faded rodeo posters plastered the walls of this farmer hangout, except for a sign outlining the nature of the establishment. One snippet said it best: "This may not seem like your normal donut shop, with cigarette smoking wafting about and dingy counters, but this is the West, and we welcome things as they be." The menu consisted of biscuit with egg, biscuit with egg/sausage, and biscuit with egg/bacon. (Curiously, no donuts). Scratchy voiced Gene greeted us along with his other regulars. They loved hearing about our trek, most especially our diligence. Gene croaked, "You should be proud of whatcha doing. Young folks around here are too lazy to slap the flies off their own ass," Having been in this state only 10 minutes in my entire life, I decided the entire experience was classic Texas.

Challenging day...A lengthy ride of 95 miles in the EMPTY Texan terrain (Quite simply civilization was absent. Each cows' eye in every herd intently followed each pedal stroke I made, which to be honest was ominous)...I was saddened to hear that five of our riders decided not to finish, opting to hitch hike some 40 miles to our destination. Their behavior truly upset me, which honestly is a rare emotion for me towards another person. I battled with how I should handle this: do I simply let it go, knowing each rider has opted to do this trip for their own personal reasons, or do I stand up for what I believe is right? I didn't want to cause trouble or hurt feelings, yet these actions diminish what everyone else is doing, whether the hitch hikers meant to or not. Wearing the Bike and Build jersey, we represent every host, donor, rider and most importantly American struggling to find affordable housing. If you are injured and can't continue, ride in our van. Otherwise, remember how simple our job is and pedal for the people. In this line of reasoning, I opted to tell each of the five riders individually that I was personally bothered by their actions. Telling them they are free to do whatever they want, I relayed that I think it reflects poorly on all of us. Reactions were mixed, from understanding nods of agreement to tears of inner turmoil to glares of contempt. I still am debating whether or not I made the right decision to share my opinions, yet I am left thinking I did right. Readers please comment: what do you think?

Later that evening, I roamed the streets of Spearman, population 3,500. I ended up watching the sunset with Taylor and scooting over to the Dairy Queen that grabbed our attention. Anxious to make the most of our visit, I approached a family eating there and asked to join them. Best decision of the day. The family had two generations of teachers/principals, with the patriarch Jim dominating the conversation. Native to Arkansas, he was a senior of Little Rock Central High when the famed integration experiment occurred. He told us stories of armed soldiers sitting in desks, helicopters on football fields, and meetings with Ernest Green (eldest of the 9). Never to end the amazement, he then gave us business cards for his cottage industry: modifying fry vegetable oil to power diesel engines. Apparently he runs his twin cab pickup on what restaurants want to throw away! Doubtful at first, Taylor and I soon became believes as his full family validated the claim, emphasizing how the exhaust fumes smell like fried chicken. We left DQ dazzled, discussing how small and interconnected our world is. They had relatives going to Taylor's school and were actually planning to be in Colorado when we will be. If we just take the time to sit down and learn about other people, we see how similar we truly are. I decided I must continue to try to engage random strangers throughout my life. However many odd looks or dismissals you may receive, the connections possible are worth it.

Tomorrow I am riding sweep (mandatory caboose for our group's train) for the second time of the trip, so will be on the road as long as the slowest rider takes. Yes, it will be a long 85 miles to Dalhart, but I can think of who this state is devoted to. My time in Texas is dedicated to two generous donors, Josh Leibner and Steve Rhodes. Dear friends of my father, they once attempted a tri-state bicycle trip. Unfortunately, my dad wiped out early in the adventure, getting a concussion and putting the kibosh on the whole affair. Thanks to their contribution, I ride to fulfill a dream they left incomplete. In my seventh state, I promise to keep wearing my helmet and push onwards towards the coast. Git'er Done!