I often do thirty miles in a day on my commute, but this was the furthest I've done since Memorial Day, when I hit three states in as many days on an ill-fitting bike loaded with four panniers, and oversized sleeping bag and a CPAP.
It took forever to feel like we were out of town. We rode out State Avenue, which becomes US 24, but it's town for so far, there's almost no telling where the bedroom communities begin.
We stopped for a snack in Tonganoxie. In line at the convenience store, a woman said, 'I saw you out on the highway!'
'Really?' I said. 'Were you the one who honked and swerved out of your lane, onto the shoulder in a big pickup to try and scare me off into the ditch?'
'So you saw me too!' she exclaimed.
It was a joke, nobody did quite that. But riding out State Avenue, there's no doubt about how you're not in Brookside. I don't know if the car dealerships give a special discount to assholes on crew cab pickup trucks, but it's hard to account for these machines any other way. If you get buzzed, crowded, honked at or tailgated, it's almost always a grossly over-sized pickup.
But most of US 24 has a nice, wide shoulder and while some people (I suspect assholes driving crew cab trucks but I can't prove it) have confused this shoulder with a Ripple dumpster, spiking beer and liquor bottles in between the shattered headlights.
We had a pretty stiff headwind all the way to Lawrence, and I really hoped the wind would keep up. I felt like the wind owed me a debt, and I feared that with the sun going down before we returned, we'd get stiffed, becalmed or worse, face a headwind out of the north and east as some weather system moved in on the night.
Tonganoxie also provided an interesting rest stop from a graffiti standpoint. Looked to be the same marker, and about the same age of tag, but apparently someone marked the path in the park as the 'Path to Rightousness,' edited the sign warning that the path was not for nighttime use to be 'Not for Nighttime Masturbation Use' and put an upside down cross and 'Burn the Church' on an adopt-the-road sign.
It's the sort of tagging I would have done when I was thirteen or so. Especially if there was nothing on TV and I lived in a small town.
We crossed a creek called 'Stranger Creek,' but I didn't see any strangers in it. It also didn't seem unusual, certainly no stranger than any other creek in Kansas, so I'm not sure where the name came from.
Corinna had a flat by a farm called 'Chix n Stix' where she was barked at endlessly by a mostly friendly looking black lab who kept trying to sneak up behind her while she worked on her bike. I have issues with farm dogs, and two enormous German Shepherds had given me pause in Reno a few miles before this. They were off leash and ready to chase me, though I spotted them first and dismounted, keeping the bike between me and them and getting my pepper spray handy.
Wouldn't have been such an issue except it's the exact breed I saw maul a friend when I was maybe seven years old. They stayed about twenty feet from the road, and after I'd walked the bike past what they'd likely consider their property, I was able to mount up without inspiring them to chase.
The black lab, though, he thought it was game-on when Corinna saddled up. She hollered at him and spooked him back into his yard, whereupon he ran behind the tree line, pinned his ears back and ran balls-out to try and close on her at the other end of the property. I was right behind her, watching the chase, and could see that he wouldn't be able to catch up to either of us as we went downhill at upwards of 20 mph. I guess he had to go back to counting cars after that.
Once in Lawrence, we wanted to eat. I thought maybe Free State would be open, but it was Thanksgiving and most of downtown was closed. There was one really expensive looking joint, an ice cream parlor and the Aladdin Cafe, a Mediterranean joint I ate at back when I bought my Accord.
I ordered the Aladdin's Feast and Corinna got the seafood kabob, and we shared, so we got a wide sampling of the excellent food. Falafel, hummus, pita bread and dolmas for appetizers, then shrimp, salmon, beef, lamb, chicken and veggie kabobs on safron rice, followed by halva for dessert.
It's not exactly a cheap joint to eat at, but it is fantastic food for bar & grill prices.
On the way back, the wind repaid at least some of the debt. It wasn't as strong a wind, but it was a tail wind most of the time. And considering that the traffic there was on K-32 (the highway we returned on) was probably overfed, boozed-up people exhausted by their relatives, we didn't get buzzed by or honked at much. The car that startled me the most, actually, wasn't even a truck, it was a Honda Civic, and it appeared to me that he was in zombie mode. He didn't move over to crowd me, he was riding in a relatively straight line at a very high speed and I doubt he even noticed me on the shoulder.
It was really the perfect trip, gorgeous weather, the headwind/tailwind front-loaded, great food, interesting sights, fewer than average traffic and canine hazards, only sullied by one and a half flat tires (I had a slow leak on my rear tire coming home, but by the time I knew it, we were so close I just pumped it up with the hand pump and topped it off at a gas station to get home).
A bit over 78 miles round trip, probably perfect for me since it stretched me on endurance without breaking me. I didn't even want the teleport button once, confirming something I've thought for awhile: while I can do a century, 80 miles is about the limit of what is generally fun. Above that gets to be too much of a good thing.
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