Tally

-Days and nights = 36/35
-Nights camping/ in paid lodging/ at friends’ houses = 17/9/9
-Miles ridden = 1807
-Avg miles per day, Days #1-26 = 42
-Avg miles per day, Days #27-36 = 70
-Cumulative distances and averages = see itinerary
-Miles on dirt roads = abt 15, mostly pure misery
-Close calls = between 1 and 7
-People who think I'm braindead or suicidal = >837 (in Austin-area alone)
-Flats = 9 (Colorado = 6, Texas = 3, Utah, Kansas, Missouri and Arkansas = 0)
-Tube Failures = 5 or 6
-Loose spokes = 2
-Wheel truings = 2
-Must-visit eating establishments = >3 (Betty's Cafe in Vernal, UT; Homey Hearth in Harrison, AR; Ozark Cafe in Jasper, AR)
-Honorable mention eating establishments = >2 (Mahogany Ridge in Steamboat Springs, CO; Star Cafe in Henderson, TX)

more to come

Inns

Bed and Breakfast establishments are often comparable to or cheaper than motels or hotels. For this cost saving, you sacrifice generic rooms, bland food, hunger and disservice. That is to say, at most inns, your hosts treat you like family, you get desserts, tea and snacks, an abundant homemade breakfast, better cable, interaction with other guests, sometimes a small library, more comfortable and home-like rooms, beds and bathrooms, unique and sometimes historic lodging. Instead of sterile and generic commerce, this is hospitality. And more reasonably priced. Who knew?

Janie

Janie cast a spell on me. The entire company was fun and sharp and comfortable and familiar, I don't mean to slight anyone. Janie had the type of charisma and energy that could make anything fun. I bet she could make it seem exciting and enjoyable to drink castor oil, while digging a ditch, in a corset, during a blizzard, surrounded by badgers. She would just smile and say, "Hey everyone, let's drink castor oil, while digging a ditch, in a corset, during a blizzard, surrounded by badgers," and everyone else would say, "Yea, alright, I can't think of anything that sounds better right now."

Her four children are raised and independent, and she is finishing her degree, planning to work as a play therapist. I'm not sure I knew much about play therapy. She described it as helping children work through issues or trauma through play. If the field hadn't existed, she might have invented it.

As we spent the evening together, politics came up. It was quickly clear that we distinctly disagreed on some often divisive matters. I feared this difference might douse the afternoon's magic. She stated her opinions, and I didn't really say anything either way. She got up to do something, obviously caught up in thought. She came back later, a question burning in her pocket, and we had a respectful and interested discussion. Earnest thought, common ground, honored differences, magic restored.

Her charisma is perhaps a combination of such youthful exuberance and adult depth and thoughtfulness. As well a mixture of unself-consciousness and an enthusiasm for the task or moment at hand. Janie laughs at herself easily and experiments without fear of failure. She puts others at ease, teases playfully and is curious and engaged.

Homey

Generally, my route follows secondary highways and back roads. Passing through small and smaller towns, I don't expect gourmet food experiences. I'm not looking for anything fancy. My dream, on these back routes, is to find some hidden bakery or diner that serves simple, quality and maybe original fare. They are rare. Or if they exist, nobody knows about them or they're not telling. I ask and ask. I wander up side streets. Time after time, I cast my lot with another false hope. I pine for a homemade muffin or a fresh-baked sandwich. My cries echo back. Don't locals want something tasty? Best case scenario, they are cooking up delicious vittles in their homes. Worst case, they subsist on spam and crisco.

In Harrison, Arkansas, my dreams were fulfilled to overflowing. My road-weary hallucinations materialized. Homey Hearth, an Amish bakery, was closed Saturday and Sunday. I waited. Thick sliced roast beef on freshly baked bread. Peaches and cream pie. Then a slice of raspberry creme. All baked that morning. All served by motherly women in bonnets. Without tons of extra ingredients. Simple, direct and pure. And then a slice of black forest pie. Smooth layers of chocolate and cherries and cream on a crumbly crust. Original, powerful and tear-jerking. I let that digest. Then had a bowl of chili and bought some ginger cookies and a blueberry turnover for the road. Homey, I'm down.

Andrew

Andrew is trustworthy, generous and concerned. He seems to recognize that mutual service, freely given, binds people. Therefore, he fosters reciprocation. He is well-read, but conversable. He is an enthusiast of subtler points. He communicates, meaning he brings people together by equilibrating negative differences and appreciating positive ones. On such steadiness, you can build. He respects and upholds my sister.

Michele

Michele is my older sister. She's known me all my life. She's seen me make a lot of mistakes, to say the least. She hasn't judged, nor excused. She doesn't preach or condescend, yet she never ceases to guide. During my successes, Michele has always encouraged, but not flattered. She sustains, but doesn't inflate. She buoys.

To do this, perhaps she recognizes the "beginning" from the "end," and the undefined nature of the "middle." Understands that multiple courses may unite in the same path. Perhaps, as a buoy, she is undeterred, and you may fasten to her.

Ranui

Ranui Gardens centered my food universe for the past several years. The Salt Lake farmer's market orbits around them. If you don't know the "sweet nectar" of red mustard, swiss chard, arugula, red kale and all of the phenomenal greens, vegetables and garlic that John and friends grow, you should frequent Ranui. If you are not used to such light, your senses may require time to adjust, but once they do, you'll never want to be in the darkness again. If all farms and farmers were like Ranui, the hollow supermarkets of the world would disintegrate into nothing and we would all live in nourished bliss.