Goy Boy Soy Joy

I've made peace with this landscape. Like the weather, there's just nothing to be done, and now that I'm hitting better weather, I'm able to see more of the beauty in it. I've covered over 1,700 miles now and will be done with the northern section of my route tomorrow. I've been rained on, sweated out, beaten by the wind, pursued by the hounds from hell. It's been a grand old adventure with lots of interesting people.

I let women pick me up at libraries:

In central Indiana, the town of Rensselaer, I did my usual routine. Libraries, as I've gushed before, are the place to go in the bigger towns for information--not to mention updating this site and sending emails. After doing some of these things and researching where I might spend the night, I went out to move my bike out of the rain--81 deg. F., 65% humidity until is started raining, the soggy fist of summer. Under the overhang, I met two women interested in my journey, Louise and Madge. Before long I'd met Madge's husband, Marv--a vivacious man built like a barrel and training for a marathon at age 70--and I was headed to their fine log home just outside of town. What fantastic people I keep meeting. Later that night, we got together with Louise and her husband, George, and their sons, Mike and James, for a BBQ. They fed me like a king--and I ate and ate and ate as only the perpetually moving can. The calories just vanish into me to be poured out into the pedals and the pounding of my heart. The next morning, I was on my way again after meeting Madge and Marv's grandson's, one of whom is convinced he's either a) Gene Autry or b) the Lone Ranger. He gallops everywhere to show that he's on his horse. "Cowboy" was four years old and weapons-grade cute. I gave a final pet to King, the super dog, and headed off into another gray day.

I battle canine devils:

I cruised merrily through the corniferous forest, insouciantly sailed the seething soy seas only to round a corner and find three dogs startled at first by my appearance then convinced I'd make an excellent snack. Adrenal NOX blasted into my turbos and I kicked up my speed as the dogs closed in--12, 15, 18 , 20 mph straight and true. In a rage I looked over at the large black one, the one still hanging with me, his snarling bark ringing in my ears. "Is that all you got!" I yelled. "Is that it? C'mon you fat-furry-four-footed-fuck, bring it! BRING IT!" I knew that I could take this dog. And before long, he started to fade. I was too much work. Shortly he was just a panting black speck in my rear view mirror. I'd be the big one that got away, a story to be retold the next time devil dog and his crew gathered around the local fire hydrant.

Freaky shadow play:



King:



My hosts and grandchildren in Rennselear:



The weather today--fierce winds, glorious skies, a hard fight for my 65 miles:


Tomorrow I cross the Mississippi, the Big Muddy, Twain's river of dreams. The weather has set cool and fine for several days. My next post will likely be from Muscatine, Iowa. I won't be completely finished with Illinois as I will play tag with the border for a while as I work my way south. But like Huck, I'm lighting out for the territories down river, Mojo and I bound to see what's around that next bend.