Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo.

You can't buffalo me.

This heading actually forms one of the most complex grammatically correct sentences, and a fun example of how difficult English can be.

Lauryn likes animal crackers. Just the
ones shaped like buffalo.

Oh, by the way; we're in Buffalo, 67 miles down the road, north-east from this morning's Westfield. Along Lake Erie, a few hills, wind with and against favor, metropolitan traffic; blah-blah-blah bike trip stuff. Read some of my co-riders blogs for all the gear-jamming details.

Kristine on the brink of Buffalo

Anyway, back to Buffalo buffalo. No, I haven't seen any, but I hear they are wily critters that may try to confound or bully you. Hence, the expression "to buffalo" as a verb. So A Buffalo buffalo buffalo is a Buffalo bison with questionable motives.

Fortunately, they tend to just pick on others of the same ilk, "buffaloing" one-another. So you follow now? Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo, or in more words: The bison native to Western New York who tend to confound or bully, tend to confound or bully other nearby bison with similar tendencies. Look it up; I'm not buffaloing you. Ok, maybe I am, but now that I've done my best to make it clear it's your own fault.

You'll thank me one day for this. Maybe when you want to get your mind off getting your teeth drilled or you can't get wi-fi, or you just want to annoy that chatty passenger on the window seat. Just think of 7 buffalo. If you master that, try this, but I can't go there- it hurts. You're welcome. Oh, and thanks again for supporting my fundraising efforts and reading my blog. I promise both will end soon.

Irie Lake Erie

"Irie"

We have been so blessed with tail winds and (mostly) good roads the past two days. We exited Ohio, entered Pennsylvania, and entered New York today along Lake Erie. "Irie" is a Rasta word for "good", and I marked the occasion by wearing my Rasta hat for a helmet cover. I found it back in Florida along the road, cleaned it up, and just brought it for fun. Today was fun.

"Mostly good roads. We're stopped for
construction. Wicked surface!

This is a beautiful area when it isn't covered with snow. I suppose it's beautiful when it is covered with snow, but I don't think we'd make the 76 miles we did today. We are approaching the area of my wife's family, where she grew up, and some still live. Things have changed much since she left 40 years ago, and from my first visit probably close to 50 years past. This used to be a heavily industrialized area, and from it's beginnings until the 1970's it was pretty much a dumping ground for those industries. That environmental disaster resounds in Leslie's and my lives to this day; I'm thankful Industry is so much more responsible now. I wonder what gave them the change of heart?  It couldn't have been governmental regulation, for I hear that is a really bad thing.

Lauryn: bananas
over corn!

So this is grape country. Miles of grapes, and then entering town we got wind of Welch's. Of course there is plenty of other agriculture as well, and with it the roadside stands selling today's pick. We stopped to sample some of it. Northern fruit, grown in milder climate, just seems a bit better. Perhaps I'm drawing from my Yankee roots.

Thanks for your support.

Leave 'em in tears, and don't look back

No, I'm not crying; the wind makes my eyes water.

That heading seems rather cold after such warm hospitality we received this past weekend. So many of us expressed our joy of being in Aurora that we kidded “ok, trip’s over; we’re staying here for two weeks!” knowing we were leaving this morning. Laughter is a good dam against tears. It’s amazing how attached we can get with the locals, and we always part with promises to meet again. I’m fortunate to have an added draw in that I offer Disney to many, so maybe…

I am in the company of good people who rely on good people along the way, and stay out of the way so good can come of it despite this sinner. This is an intense experience so full of love that it actually hurts to move on- we are so inspired by America and some say we inspire them. Neat.

A legend on the wall of Jewels Dance Hall

Today’s ride was wonderful. First of all being rested is great, but north-east Ohio is beautiful. The roads are pretty good, and the rolling hills make for quite an enjoyable ride. Just enough uphill to provide a downhill to gain speed for the next uphill. I was able to average over 20 miles per hour in the first 40 miles, and in some spots, with today’s tail-wind, able to maintain close to 30 and even reached 40 along a stretch of good road. Then the last 15 miles were along shaded “rails-to-trails” path, so traffic wasn’t an issue. I took those at a leisurely pace.

Tomorrow is from here in Ashtabula along Lake Erie, across the NW corner of Pennsylvania into New York, and we’ll be crossing the state the rest of this week.  

Thank you for your fundraising support.

Rest for the weary

Build days are a luxury for our legs and butts, but keep us busy. Our team of 45 joined with 40 local volunteers to work on 12 separate locations here in Aurora, Ohio. The group I joined had the good fortune of working with Nick Iafigliola and his brothers, (Ryan’s Dad and Uncles). We repaired fire damage, plumbing, and electrical, along with yard improvements on a local home.

Afterward we were hosted by the Rotary at Sunny Lake Park for dinner and fellowship, where some played horseshoes, volley ball, corn hole, or relaxed like me. We then broke up into our groups to be hosted by local families in their homes, and 12 of us are the guests of Sandy and Josh, their children Jesse and Charlie, and Auggie, their dog.

Cap'n Josh

Today we enjoyed our second waking from sleeping in beds with a nice big breakfast provided by Sandy. Our group split up and attended three local churches, and for some afterward going down to the lake for a day of boating, followed by a big cook-out with another host. The day is once again too short for all the life in it, but tomorrow we have the luxury of rising at 6, and only a 60 mile excursion. This is our third night in one location. Tomorrow we start the 9^th week of the trip, my second week. The first week's mileage for me was 350+ miles.

Thank you for your support of fundraising toward this mission.

Pink Elephant to Recovery and beyond

This week, along this road trip I saw a pink elephant. Wearing sunglasses. Drinking a martini. I took a picture of it.

The next day I spent some time in Recovery. I took a picture of it.

Fort Recovery was a tough road I rode 100.65 miles. It was only supposed to be a 97 mile ride, but with any job I aim to give 110%. I got off track again later- I have no idea where; I was lost. No big deal.

Riding alone is very meditative; I so enjoy where I am I lose track of where I’m supposed to go. After my detours I decided to just follow the written list of directions; Turn left on Hwy X, travel Y.z miles, turn on Q. Miles of nondescript corn and soy. I half consciously watch my numbers and not look at the total mileage left for the day, trusting instruction to achieve the goal without a worry. Not a worry of where I’ve been, where I’m going; just pedal a comfortable efficient pace, drink regularly, sweat, breath, turn on cue. As I stroke the miles my body moves in a linear manner while my spirit grows infinitely, with exaltation. No worries. Just follow ordered direction and let it flow. That’s what I’ve found in scripture; a path on which I follow to discover a space beyond the place I am in, while enjoying that place. The bible is a book full of mystery constantly revealed I don’t think I’ll comprehend until life’s last page, but it certainly helps me understand the here and now.

It’s taken my life to get here, and all the struggle I’ve made of it is good, for here is good. I wish I had followed instruction earlier and not been so lost for so long. I don’t say that with regret so much as a suggestion; not a single thought I’ve had is superior to those of “illiterate shepherds” recorded a few millennia ago. 

Mud, sweat, and tears.

It was the first day of riding for me. I didn’t have high expectations for setting any records. So, when Lydia asked the dreaded question after our daily devotional and instructions- “Who wants to sweep?” all remained typically silent. It’s a strange tradition I have yet to fully understand. Nobody wants to sweep, meaning nobody wants to volunteer to be the last rider in for the day. The “sweeps” attend to the slowest riders, or flats, or whatever situation causes a few to fall behind.

I volunteered. Arron, another first day rider and my riding buddy from last year opted to join me. Trail conditions were so bad, and some riders so green, it took three hours to go the first 20 miles. The trail had been under water in spots, so was covered with a slippery silt that made it necessary to walk the bikes on higher ground (if there was any). We we had to ride through a lot of the slurry, so everyone was fully muddied.

The day grew hotter. The general “requirement” of riders is to maintain a minimum average of 12 miles per hour, and many times we were under 10. Arron and another rider had to drop out at 60 miles. Conceding "defeat" can be an emotional moment for some. I was left with Diane to sweep with, and at the 71 mile point was about to collapse from the heat, so had to drop out. Diane is hardcore, so insisted on finishing. Our support stalwart, Tom Weber, being the gentleman he is, insisted Diane not ride solo, so pedaled my bike the last 20 miles while I rode in the support vehicle. Yes, you read that right- Geezerman rode my bike! Ok, for those of you not veteran riders of the FCBA that might not mean a lot, but the value of a bike graced by his derriere is double! No matter that it's virtually worthless and not at all likely to even be stolen (I’ve “tricked” it out into a rolling joke, and not really a funny one at that), I'm honored. Then again, Tom has a pink bike, so obviously he’s not too particular.

So, it was my first time ever not finishing. I’m good with that.

Thank you for your support in my fundraising efforts. 

Bike lag

I arose at 0500; I work late so usually when a clock reads that it’s because I’m struggling to fall asleep; now I’m struggling to wake up. I could have stayed in bed a few more hours, but my world is about to turn upside-down.

Last night I got word from Kert that they are anticipating my arrival and that they’ve picked up my bike from the mail drop already. I joked with him to go ahead and open up my box and assemble it. Man, that would be nice. As it is I have that to do tonight, as well as install a new crank/chainring set that I ordered to replace the nubby-toothed old rings I shipped it with. I was hoping to get one more trip out of this bike, but during one of my last rides in preparation for this my chain slipped every time I put any real pressure on the down stroke. I’ve been shopping for parts a long time, hesitating making any investment in ASsTROBLASTER, for a set of rings can be costly. Well, God smiled upon me and during my last shopping session a week ago presented to me a direct replacement part from some overstock jobber; three chainrings with crankset offered at $34.

I really try to keep expenses on these trips to a minimum, minding the Fuller Center motto “Living simply, so others can simply live.” This is my first year actually conforming to the suggested list of gear. No blender. No spyglass. No tools, no formal attire for the captain’s banquet. Ok, so I’m trying to conform. I did pack an air mattress, for these old bones leave dents in the church floors if I use the pads provided. I did splurge and buy a replacement rolling duffel bag, for while (again) mending the seams on my old one I just thought it worthwhile. So off to Walmart I went and found the same model that has served me so well. The old one was branded “Jeep” but now it’s “Coleman”, and obviously made in the same Chinese sweatshop. For $42 it fulfills my purpose of being my home for a spell. One nice feature they include with Walmart luggage purchases is pre-TSA screening: first, the cashier rifled through every cranny before approving the purchase, and then Charley (you know, “Checkpoint Charley” as you try to leave) looked through the nooks. I don’t know what the TSA pays their lackeys, but Walmart is thrice thorough for a third the price. Fortunately I was spared the “please follow me” into a room as the guy snapped a blue glove on. Walmart is tough.

My flight leaves before noon and takes another five before destination. It’s going to be a long day. I have a lot of long days, and short nights, ahead. It reminds me of going to China, when I turned my clock upside-down and it took three weeks to adjust. I should be used to this about the time I get back home.

CRANKY!

At MCO: Did I mention I’m not a morning person? I haven’t even boarded my delayed flight and they’re announcing another delay, waiving the cattle prods to remind us to be ready to board at their whim. I’m feeling cranky. It’s probably good my crank is in checked luggage, or it could get ugly.