Friday, September 21, 2007

Spanked Katy

I've landed in Clinton, MO. Not much doing here, but I did laundry and downloaded some stuff for the long road ahead. That mp3 player is going to be my salvation. The Katy was fun, but I'm glad our relationship is over. I didn't mind riding her, but the limestone dust and slower speeds were starting to be a drag. No photo uploading on this machine, so you just get my scrambled, mis-typed prose to tickle your nose.

Sedalia wasn't a half-bad stop. After my last post, I explored a little and landed at a very pleasant--mostly empty--brew pub. Missouri is blessed with a pretty good brewery, Boulevard's. The pale ale and unfiltered wheat are especially good. I ordered up a pint of the former and sat on the patio to dig the Missouri scene. Okay, not much. It's not the Champs-Elysees, but it would do on a hot afternoon. I sat in the shade, sipped the icy perfection, and read my most excellent science fiction novel: The Ghost Brigades, by Scalzi, good escapist stuff for my life of sweat and toil.

After stocking up with too much stuff at the grocery store, I headed for camp, which I thought was free. No such luck. $10 for a patch of grass surrounded by monster RV's. Me and my one person tent and kinky bike. The contrast was grotesque and hilarious. Only one person showed interest in what I was doing. A lady in the closest RV was friendly and her chihuahua was a blast. Her husband was a scowling, downcast, coughing smoker. Maybe he was just preoccupied with how good it felt to be feeding his tumor, who knows? He said not a word. Fine with me. They were quiet, and I found an excellent use for the big RV--shade. The hot sun was low in the sky, and I set up in the shadow thrown long by their enormous rig.

Then I did something horrible, foul, unspeakable: I ate a steak. Cow meat. Deceased bovine flesh. Holy horrified Hindus, Batman, that guy's eating red meat! The cow that provided the steak was not organically fed, not grass fed, not free range. I am not part of the solution. I am part of the problem. And like all true sins, it tasted good--really good. I just sparked up sparky, poured a little olive oil in my titanium pan, and slapped in the meat. Sizzle, sizzle, fo' shizzle, the cow did cook. A wee bit o' garlic, some saline powder and peppah, spear with fork, hack with blade, masticate and swallow. Yup, this carnivore was a happy camper. Gonna do it again tonight as I couldn't buy a quantity small enough for just one meal.

I consume mass quantities on this tour. Never before have I done so much exercise for so many days in a row. I had little excess on my bones to begin with, so to keep from vanishing completely, I just eat and eat and eat. Sometimes too much, for sure, but that's how it goes for high-end recumbent cyclo-tourism. Until next time, keep yer cleats clean and yer tires full. This is Biker Scotty signing off from the western frontier of Missouri, just one more state I'm going to leave behind.

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