episode 160: mama I'm so happy, I'm gonna join the band...

One of the things that was toughest for me on the trip was the different cultures of the west. First, everyone listened to dirty hippie music out there. If I hear one more blue grass, or jam band, I might scream. I mean I don’t hate it, but can I get something that feels my pain a bit. Please.

But there were other things. I mean the hybrid pedal team was very open, and excepted all of the differences in our group, but I admit, being a blue stater, I really took for granted our way of life, and that I could be a jackass when ever I wanted. In other areas of the country, like Idaho, people aren’t always open or as accepting. It was in Idaho that I realized for the first time that perhaps wearing an all pink Henry’s kit wasn’t the best move. I mean, I live in the only red county in Maryland, I can ride my bike up the street and find three houses that confederate flags hung on their front porches. I’ve had plenty of folks with gun racks in their 1975 Ford truck buzz me, or throw stuff at me, or even just tell me I’m number one, but in Idadho I had an entirely different experience.

After dropping into Stanley, ID and realizing the amazing Saw Tooth Mountains that surrounded me, I was instantly dropped into a moment of Zen. I was humbled by the sheer magnifgance of the mountains, how jagged, and how rugged they were. It was really an amazing feeling. I am doing a poor job of explaining how I felt, how it impacted me, but it was just awe inspiring.

At lunch, my buddy Brent sad down somewhat close to me, he was definitely violating my personal space. I knew he was doing it to be funny, I knew he was trying to make me squirm.

So I decided to play back. Using the old, Wrap your hand around the head, and place your own hand over the mouth, thus kissing your own hand trick, I planted a huge kiss on Brent. Really I was kissing my hand. It totally caught him off guard, everyone at the table laughed, because although it may have appeared that I kissed Brent, I actually kissed my hand, it was funny.

Then the woman sitting at the table across from us freaked me out a bit when she spoke up and said, “You better be careful, people get shot for that kind of behavior around here.” She was very dead pan; to be honest I couldn’t tell if she was joking or dead serious. A survey of the table had 50% of the table thought it was a joke, 50% of the table thought I was dead meat.
To be honest, at this point, I felt pretty sure she was serious. All I could think about was the final 7 miles we had to ride, me being the only guy in a pink jersey and on my bike. My only thought was “dude, I am so dead…” Needless to say, I crushed those last 7 miles and got to the camp site ASAP. Further I didn’t wear pink again until we made it to the liberal thinking, free flowing state that is Utah, when I finally had cell service again, Diane had texted me, "don't wear pink!!!"

Someone later told me Idaho might be the most conservative state in the union. I like to think of it as a state of culture shock for me. YIKES.

I got my first real cross ride in the other night. We went to a place I like to call the “fatcave”, its secret grassy spot that I like to go to spin out the legs a bit. After using my “fatspray” to knock out monkey, uncle mike and rotten, I shared my secret spot with them and we ripped out a few laps. No real efforts, just cruising, getting the feeling of how great a cross bike works at you know cross.

I was trying to see how hard I could push the corners, and one section totally blew it, and ended up in the brush. No matter, I stood on the pedals and cruised back on course. We were all pretty much Cheshire smiles and high fives, maybe not fast, maybe not fit, but damn it felt good to make the cross bike work. So freaking good. It was so much fun.

If you believe in omen’s here’s one for you, and hopefully an omen of a good season to come, as we rode home we past a hard charging Debra Compton running past, you know mother of KC. We all screamed to her, as we all ways do when we see the Compton’s, “Hello, Debra Compton!” She smiled and waved excitedly to us, as she cruised off on her run. My guess is she’s training for the upcoming Philly Marathon. That Debra is a crusher for sure.

Respect
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