Flower Mound and Friends

These are some things that went through my head after being home...

I think my auto pilot kicked in.  The auto pilot that kicks in when anyone goes home, I assume.  Sort of the same feeling you get when you drive so many times....all you remember is getting in the car, and poof* you are suddenly walking into the office...
 "Home", holds so many memories and so much familiarity.  Home holds so much time.  Home can be a place you compare all of your experiences to.  Home holds feelings. ideas. emotions. relationships. visions. struggles. growth. choices.  I believe all beings have a home...if not more than one.  I think that is how we survive.  No matter how divergent... It seems like our main achievement in life is creating a "home".  We need familiarity. comfort. safety. support. love... no matter how divergent.

 Home can be a place.  It can be a person or people.  It can be a thing.  It can be an idea.  Those who are most fortunate, have created home through a combination of these elements.  So, everyone creates a world for themselves.. with what they are given.  We all struggle...to nurture and destroy our world.  The hardest part, of my own world...committing to a square footage...

 I never wanted my "home town" to define me.  I didn't want to be molded into the majority percentile.. of any kind.  To avoid the mold,  usually meant doing things how I wanted, when I wanted, and where I wanted... that is my autopilot.  I am not too proud of it... but it helps get me places.

That being said... I fantasize Flower Mound (my physical "home town") being something new and exciting... but Flower Mound will never be that...  I am starting to see the beauty of having a home base that will remain quiet and boring...no matter how many trees they destroy.. or how many businesses they implant upon the square footage... it may grow in ways I am not too thrilled about.  I may never settle down there...in what used to be the little country town.  I can appreciate the lessons and love that came from the time I spent there, when I did.

To friends at home..it is cool to see how far we have come.  You are all going places, that is for damn sure...we all have our time... no need to get jaded by your 3rd year in college.  I admire all of you that dedicated yourselves to that square footage, for 4+ years.  It really is impressive.  It takes time.  Patience.  Love.  Destruction.  Nurturing.  Within that square footage, most meet themselves.  Most meet lifetime friends.  Most make memories.  Most create a home of sorts.  Those that aren't in college, or have never started...way to follow whatever path you have chosen.  You are trailing off the beaten path.  You know what I know, about yourself.  You have chosen to not dedicate yourself to something you are not ready to take on.  You are making your own way.  That also takes guts.  That also takes time. Patience. Love. Destruction. Nurturing.   

Thanks for being such awesome friends... you know who you are ;)...  Thanks for accepting me for me.  Thanks for gracing me with your thoughts, time, and love...even when I disappear.

  

Mom and Family

I guess these are some of the things that went through my head after visiting home last week...

Through the wild youngster years.  To the rebellious teen.  Onto the young, confused adult... to the first bike ride (the beginning of this year)... almost 23 years later, now, on my solo ride.  I have been supported in my choices, by my family... occasionally, it took some time for them to warm up to my ideas.. other times it meant them sitting back, waiting for me to fall on my ass and figure it out... I have always kept them on their toes... it keeps us young.

If we really think about it...we are older than we give ourselves credit for.. 9 months older, that is... we never really think about those 9 months we are so dependently being created.  Those are probably some of our most, if not the most crucial months of our existence... which is pretty bizarre, considering we don't have much say in the matter... maybe we tend to forget about the sacrifice others make, in our defense..

The things we don't see or understand.  The things we don't (remember) feel(ing).  These things tend to get lost in our own world of present problems.


(((Dear Mom moment/tangent...

I can only imagine how it feels to create and nurture another person.. to build a home with and for this person, for decades... only then, to have that person do nothing, but give you grief for a good chunk of time... in the home you practiced nurturing, destroying, and loving... and then (this is the kicker), they decide to travel around the world on their bicycle...

I guess what I am trying to say is I am sorry for causing you grief all those years.. only for my own insecurities, ego, and selfishness... I am working on it.. Thanks for your support. )))


To my family...thanks for sticking behind me.. whether you understand what I am doing on the road, or not... that is what love is.  :)  It feels very real.

Doing what I want, when I want, how I want.. comes with a great price, to the relationship I have with my family... It usually costs me time and space with them.  I miss the fun celebrations like weddings and holidays.  I miss the everyday growth of my brother and sisters...my cousins and nephews.  The casual time with my parents.

Part of my goal of being on the road, is to allow myself the time and space for the family.  To see them in their environment.  To witness the homes they have built for themselves.  To see their world.

on that note....

“HAPPINESS [is] ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED” 
― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

The Ranch

I left the church around 7:45 in the morning.  It was cold and still outside.  As I was getting back on 114, making my way North, I heard the last howls of the coyotes for that night.    

I was riding down the highway.. thinking.. trying to make sense of the events of the evening before.  Jammye pulled over about an hour down the road to offer me a ride the rest of the way to the ranch, where she invited me for breakfast.  

We loaded my bike into the back of her SUV and chatted a bit.  

'

When we pulled up to the ranch I started to grin.  It was like what you read about in children's books.  The little white houses with the red trim, on the prairie...  A beautifully self sustained community.  Horses, cattle, land.   Quietness.  Friendly folks.  Cowboys.  Real Cowboys!

We pulled up to the kitchen house.  Jammye introduced me to Stella (the office manager) and Linda (the boss in the kitchen!) ;).  They offered me some breakfast.  Some stew and beans.  Authentic, delicious, country cooking!  Stella and Linda asked me questions about my trip, and insisted it was much too dangerous being on the road on my own.  

Jammye had to head the work.  We unloaded my bike from her car while Linda kindly heated some food for me.  Jammye wished me safety and luck... and kindly donated to my trip.  She has truly been a moving  presence on my ride... only after 2 breif meetings in a couple of hours.  We hugged for a final time (although I have a feeling I will see her again very soon)...

I went back in to eat and have some coffee.  Stella, Linda, and I talked about life in the country.  Life as a wife.  Raising children on the ranch.  Private and public schools.  And cowboys, of course :). 

Stella invited me to stay, rest, and shower.  Instinctively, I turned down the offer, knowing I needed to keep to my "schedule"...  

While finishing breakfast... quite a character arrived at the dining hall.  

Ross.  A true icon of a cowboy.

Stella gave me a short tour of the dinning room photos, and Ross kindly agreed to drive me up the road about 20 to 30 miles, over the flat.

As much as I wanted to ride through the hills, I didn't want to miss out on a chance to talk to this guy!

Ross and I talked about the land.  We talked about the ups and downs of what the ranch goes through.  We talked about his life as a cowboy.  He told me stories of spending his winters on the lake, shooting the quail off the cattle's feed.  Now-a-days he takes care of the breeding mares.  

About 30 minutes down the road, after Ross dropped me off at the top of the flat... I was rethinking the offer Stella had given to stick around.  I fantasized for the rest of the day about helping in the kitchen, reading in my hammock and riding horses.  

Learning about life on the ranch.  

With really kind, interesting folks.

Life on a ranch seems pretty damn ideal to me...

Denton to Jacksboro onto Gurthrie

Last week consisted of a few days resting in the quiet, business of Flower Mound... and a few nights filled with laughs and drinks in Denton with friends.  I decided to stay an extra day at home, to allow some extra time to see friends.  On Saturday, mom drove me, and my bike, up to Weatherford.  Allowing for some quality grandma, grandpa time (my dad's parents).

The last time I visited with them was in February, when I was riding through, with The Young Philanthropists... I remember we were riding our bicycles down the highway when I noticed signs for Weatherford.  The landmarks started to become very familiar.  I realized we were headed down the same route my parents would take every Sunday to visit my grandparents... Long story short, the group was kind enough to take a detour for lunch, to pop in and meet my grandparents on our way out of DFW.

My grandmother and I talked about what I was doing back out on the road.  She asked about my safety.  She asked about my plan.  She asked to keep her updated.

I had more or less an answer for all of her concerns.





After a couple of hours, Mom, Jamie, and I continued on to Jacksboro...home of Fort Richardson.
The car ride was quiet. timid. anxious.
Most of me felt bad for making my mom drive me out to Jacksboro.  I felt like it was almost pure torture to make her do that.  The other part of me thought it was progressive. healthy. strengthening. encouraging.  For her and my brother.


I was eager to start the next step of my trip. camping. alone.

As we drove up to the park, Mom told me her dad, Grandpa Lester, always wanted to come see the Texas Forts...he probably never will.  I am glad I get to see it, and take some pictures for him along the way.  I am glad my mom tells me these things about her family... the Lester's never were good at connecting... just lots of small talk...  We still struggle to visit and dig deep into conversation with one another... I do appreciate the thick skin I inherited from that man.

It was nice to camp again.
The fresh air.  The sounds of the wild.  The multiplying colors in the sky.
I think all the boy scout troops around calmed Mom's nerves a bit.

To be honest.  I was a bit scared.  A bit nervous.  The next step of my trip was happening.
West Texas.  Lots of alone time.  Lots of thoughts.  Lots of nothing.

Wishing I would have thought to invite them to camp with me for the night, I hugged and kissed mother and brother goodbye.




The next morning I road to Seymour, about 75 miles.  The morning started out somewhat chilly.  The breeze turned into a wind in the afternoon.  The sky was clear.  I was happy.  I was finally feeling ME again.  The things I loved in life finally started coming back to mind.  I wasted the day away thinking... creating ideas about the things I love to do, on my very own terms. :)

I broke down and got a motel room the evening so I could do some writing..but the internet didn't work.

The past couple of days, when people ask,  I tell them my story.  Handing out brochures from the first ride, explaining why I am, now, back out on the road.  Most are encouraged.  Most are excited.  Some are worried.  Lots are confused.  Most want to help.

The next morning I left Seymour, hoping to make it to Dickens (another 75/80 miles)...
Although, it has only been a couple of days, at times, it is hard to stay self motivated.  When you have a group to work with, you have people to talk to. You have more structure, needing to get from point A to point B, collectively...It is easy to get bored when you are alone for a handful of consecutive hours.

The morning, heading out of Seymour, started off with a breezy cold front.
It was a beautiful break from the sun.

Two folks stopped to give me some water bottles... one of the most generous gifts given in this world :)

The cold front cleared and the sun started to sink deeper into the sky.  I made it to Guthrie, TX around 5.  My body was tired.  I was about ready to call it quits for the day...Dickens was still another 20 miles or so up the road...I wasn't about to ride at night with no lights, alone.  I turned off 114 into Guthrie...

Guthrie is a town of 106 people.  A couple of houses, a football field, and a small baptist church, was the only trace of civilization for miles and miles.  I parked my bottom on the steps of the church.  Kicked my shoes off.  Dumped some bbq sauce into my bag of tyson chicken.  Sat back to enjoyed the sound of trucks occasionally driving down the small, country road, as the sun kept sinking behind me.

As I was just about to throw my trash out and get my sleeping bag set, a women pulled into the drive.
She seemed curiously concerned.  She asked if I needed anything.. a bathroom perhaps...
I was quite grateful that she took the time to stop and ask.
I told her how I wound up in Guthrie, alone.  How I wasn't ready to settle down quite yet, after the first bike ride... How I still had something to gain out here on the road... and how I felt that God has and is keeping me safe.
She was quite moved.
She (Jammye) was a member at the church, and offered me a place to stay, there, for the night.
I gladly accepted.
After we talked a little bit more, she invited me to breakfast in the morning at the ranch up the road, where her husband worked.
Again, I gladly accepted the invitation.
It was really a wonderful thing to be talking to someone after 2 days of little communication...so this was a real treat!

We exchanged information and hugs.
When she left, I brought my bike inside and got settled.
A few minutes later Jammye called me, telling me she was going to have a friend stop by with a plate of food for dinner.  The evening kept getting greater and greater...
Sure enough, another kind women came to the church on her way to the airport.
She dropped off a delicious, huge meal.

I was well fed and plenty tired, excited to meet some ranchers in the morning!

little miracles.

Glen carefully dropped me off in Buffalo.. making sure I had a safe roof over my head.
I got a cheap(ish) motel room for the night..(after the young and wild adventure, it is always hard to shovel out money for a place to sleep...knowing you could sleep somewhere for free..)

The next day I got another late start, due to a full night of blogging and Facebook...I got on the road about 12 pm, after a cup of coffee.

I started off on Old Hwy 75.  Lush, green, rolling pastures for miles.

It was a long, quiet day of riding... though, the dogs definitely kept me on my toes.
I wasn't feeling as motivated as I had the rest of the week.
I saw few cars.  I saw few faces.  I said nothing.  My mind was quiet.


As each day passes, however...I think less and less about the first tour...The Young Philanthropists...  The one where I met 8 strangers.  The one where I fell for a guy.  The one where we road 7,000 miles around the country in 5 months...  I no longer affiliate my everyday life to that experience anymore...I am, thankfully, after 4 months, in the midst of creating something new...I no longer wish to be on the road of that ride..I no longer sulk in the past.

I think the thing I love most about the country is no matter how large or small the house is, there is always plenty of chairs for everyone...around a fire pit, on a porch, or under a shady tree.

...so, I road from Buffalo to Corsicana.
I arrived in a some-what sketchy side of town..after dark..hungry and tired.
I forgot how nice it was to know where you get to rest your head each night.
I just couldn't bring myself to purchase another room.

I road to a Dominos.  Ordered a small pizza.  I got the usual strange looks from customers coming to pick up their pizzas..to enjoy in their cozy homes.
It amuses me how people turn their heads.  Shyly. Discreetly... trying to quickly analyze and make sense of my dirt covered legs...my ridiculous bike shorts...and the loaded bicycle, outside.
sometimes they ask about it... sometimes they don't.

I found a church behind Domino's...but it was a loud area, so I decided to keep looking around.
I road east a few blocks toward the downtown square... old red brick buildings, with christmas lights up in the trees.  It felt safe.

I started to ride North out of Corsicana...toward Ennis (the next major city).
Not wanting to risk getting hit, I decided I'd camp out at another church... I found one conveniently located right on the Farm Road I planned on taking out of town.

I road up the parking lot and around to the back of the building.
I get pretty lazy when it comes to setting up the tent...so I decided to utilize the fort :)
As a conséquence, I did get torn up by the damn mosquitos...

Around 8:30 the next morning, a large truck muffler turning into the parking lot woke me.
First thought... Oh fuck..
Then, a car door. Then footsteps in the rocks of the playground....Then a "Hello!?!"

I shyly relied ..hiii...
I wasn't expecting a courtesy call for check out...let alone, a check out messenger.
The man, John, was rather confused and frustrated with my shelter decision.
I explained to him about how I arrived here behind the church...which also turned out to be a school of sorts...where his daughter attended kindergarden, and his Wife, Debrah, was teaching first grade.
After telling him my situation, he seemed to cool off a bit, but wasn't quite sold on the idea.
He was a kind enough man just protecting his wife and daughter from potential danger.
I can respect that.
He walked off scratching his head.

I started to pack up my sleeping bag when John came back out to the playground.. this time with Debrah, his wife.

She was super kind.  with a genuine smile.  meeting her was a nice way to turn the day around.  She wasn't frightened of me.  I could feel and see her love. her openness.  she must have been a true mother... like my mother.

We all chatted for a moment.
Eventually John left and Debrah went back to class.
A few moments later when I was just about ready to go, Debrah came back outside.
She invited me to use the bathroom if I needed.  (a small miracle in itself).

I was back on the road, earlier today...
Today was the day I would make it to Dallas! :)
The day started with little miracles that didn't stop.

I pulled off for a late breakfast at Waffle House in Ennis, Texas.
Food tastes so much better when you are pedaling all day...
I went to the counter to pay my bill... after a few minutes, another waitress informed me someone had paid for my meal and tip...


I made my way, away from the highway.  I hung a right onto Main St., running parallel to the railroad tracks.  It felt old. It had history.  I enjoyed riding there.  The houses are all different shapes, colors, sizes.  The neighborhoods all have stories to tell.  The trains have so much history vibrating through the rails.

I often turn around to check for cars and dogs.  I turn around once and notice a man in his lawn.  I shout "Hey!"  He shouts "Hey!" back.. I keep pedaling on.

After about 10 miles down the road, the man I exchanged "Hey!"'s with, Tommy, drove up in a green truck.
He handed me $20 dollars and said, "I don''t know what you are doing out here, but the Lord moved me to come give you something, to help you."...  The rain started to pick up.
I explained to him what I was doing and (as best I could) why I was doing it.
He was surprised, but smiled, joyfully.
He blessed me. Wished me safety. And told me I shouldn't keep doing this for much longer.  He said, "what ever you are looking for out here...God is it."
I thanked him again.  I told him I appreciate him taking the time to talk with me.  That is after all part of the reason why I am doing what I'm doing...
We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, with lifted spirits.

The rain stayed pretty steady and strong for most of the day.
When I finally reached Dallas the clouds started to separate.

I made it to the DART downtown around 6.
Got on the Green line to North Carrolton.
Transfered to the Denton A Track
Arrived at the Highland Village/Lewisville Lake station just before dark around 7.
The pedal home only took about 20 minutes. :)
I give the Dallas DART 5 stars! (Austin needs to get their shit together!)

It is good to be home :)
Cheers.

Thanks Glen

It is comforting to be laying in a bed.  with a quiet fan spinning above me.

I am clean.  With brushed hair. brushed teeth.  I am home... at the house I grew up in.. The only thing better than that was having my mom, pop, and brother greet me at the door this evening.

The past 5 days have been a great sample of what I am going to be doing for the next couple months. alone.

Sometimes I get lonely.  Sometimes I wish I had a friend to ride with.  Sometimes I wish I had "my person"... the person I get to grow old with.  the person that helps me learn how life works.
For now... I am that person.

Since I left College Station, it has been raining on and off.  Mostly on...
It has been really enjoyable though.  It doesn't really bother me while I ride.

I had a late start out of Aggieland.  We had a late night at NorthGate, and wasn't feeling too pressed to get back out on the road...

..I am not a huge fan of riding on the highway... or service roads.. (however they can be quite useful at times...)  There is no rush, this time around..I get to set my own path...
That being said...I have been able to utilize the old highways and back roads.
The handy dandy GPS has zig-zagged me from East to West quite a bit... but again, I don't mind.  The rolling, grassy hills filled with cattle, trees, and quietness have been well worth the extra milage.

Anyway...I picked up some bread and headed out of town.  I went through some of the neighborhoods west of campus.  The sun was shining.  The breeze came and went.  I road threw Bryan, Texas.  I headed West on Mumford Road to get out of town...back into the country.

Around 5 PM the clouds rolled in.

The wind calmed down a bit... 

A police officer that had passed me about 30 minutes earlier was now cruising slowly behind me...I figured this was his way of asking me to stop...

He got out of his vehicle and approached with uncertainty.

I said hello.  He said hello, and asked what I was doing.

I told him I was riding to Dallas and then headed West.

Not being very specific...

With confusion in his voice..he asked to see my ID

I handed him my passport.

He then asked me why I was using a passport as my ID

I told him I don't have a drivers license....

He goes to check my "record" (I assume)

Comes back, even more confused, so it seemed.

He asked...are you homeless?..is this a choice you made?...does this have purpose?

I explained a little more about the 5 month tour I did with The Young Philanthropists earlier in the year, and that I was back on the road to get whatever I missed out of the first trip...

I could tell he was mostly concerned about this huge storm about to hit, and my safety...

but for some reason when he questioned if I had a purpose for being "homeless"...it made me want to laugh at him...but it also created a small, irritated fire within me.

He wished me well.  told me to be safe, and left.  

I road up about 2 more miles (if that) and found shelter under the porch of this baptist church.

The sky looked as if it might storm pretty intensely, for a short time, and pass quickly.

So I thought I would just sit, and enjoy the show.

A few minutes later, 2 trucks parked at the construction site, you can see across the road there, hauled ass our of the driveway...so that is when I thought maybe it would be a good idea to try to hitch a ride into some wort of town...

One more truck came out of the drive a little more calmly... I walked across the road, to ask first if they thought the storm would pass quickly...Just as he rolls this window down, the drizzle turns into a down pour.  He starts to frantically clear the seat off for me.  He drives me across the street to my bike and I tell him where I started from and he is confused.  But he is not confused in the same manor as the officer was.  He was confused in a brighter way..not inspired.  not impressed.  maybe he just understood it...

He said....well here are 2 or 3 options..
He explained he was about to go get some food at Denny's..
He was more than happy to drop me off at the next town..
Before he said anything else, I told him I was game for some Denny's!
The rain died down a little.  We loaded it up, and off we went.

It was a complete back track for me...maybe 15-20 miles.
We talked a bit.. in the small living room of a truck he drove.

The coffee tasted so good.
We ordered some food...and started to talk.

I talked about my ride.  I explained my first ride with The YP.
I talked about falling in love. I talked about why I decided to get back on the road.

Glen, talked about his job...He talked about his early life..he talked about his later life...  Glen talked about meeting his wife and his god daughter.  He explained how he enjoyed simplicity and working.

I asked him plenty of questions...I enjoyed listening to the facts and opinions.
We talked about the government...the smoke in the mirrors and the green dragon dancing between them.  We talked about construction and contracting.  We talked about dams. trains. roads. boats...
It was really interesting hearing what he had to say about distribution/trade and how transportation makes it happen...we exchanged stories about life on the road.

Glen didn't attend school very long...he was pretty much done going while in 7th or 8th grade.  He became a traveler and worker early in the game... taught himself everything he knows..for the most part.. he taught himself how to read... He made plenty of money.. He made it work.

I understood Glen.  I saw some of Glen in myself...more than I expected.
A kind, keep to himself, gentle, simple, work-o-holic, of a man.
He feels at home being on the road.
It was really calming.. to hear that being said, out loud, by someone else.
By someone like Glen.

A handful of coffee cups later, he offered to drive me into Hearne (about 20 miles North).
I agreed, easily.
When we reached Hearne, it was still pouring...he offered to take me further into Buffalo (50 or so more miles).  In a grandpa sort of way, he felt uneasy dropping me off on the side of the road in the middle of a storm...
On the way to Buffalo, the thunderstorm was quite a show.  As we drove down the road, in the comforts of conversation...in the small living room of a truck... I would have been kidding myself to even think about riding my bike in these conditions...

We talked about his family.  We talked about my family.  We talked about our beliefs.  We talked about God...  Helping me out was no problem for him.  Opening up, was the other side of the coin...I think this experience was one of expanding for both of us...our minds. our hearts. our space. our trust.

...i'd like to think my purpose being on the road is to brighten people's day...to fill their dream cups up with hope...or maybe just confuse them enough to draw creativity into their world...
I want simply show others they can do anything they desire...
I want quiet time...
I want to find "my person" :)

Fourth Street Bakery divided by College Station

I left the church around 9 the next morning.  Luckily, no one came in to the church that morning... I made it out alive...the fear of an angry old man pointing a gun at me for trespassing seemed quite silly now that the sun was shining on my face.

It was nice and cool out.  The humidity was rolling in quickly, without hesitation.  It was a nice ride into Lexington.  The town was quiet.  I was interested in finding a coffee and some breakfast.  So I circled around the town.  Not much was happening at all.  Seemed like the whole town could have still been asleep.  It was nice.  Quiet.

I noticed the town was run by women (surprise, surprise..  ;) ..) when I passed the Pink Chamber of Commerce sign..decorated with a small chandelier...in a petite brick building... across the street from the 8, black, polished, police chargers sitting in front of the station.

I road into a auto shop for some direction.  Mark, the mechanic, pointed me just across the street to a bakery.  He was sort of a funny little character...with small, round glasses, and the authentic jean jump suit...
I was eager to get on the road, but we chatted for a minute about where I was from and what I was doing... He wasn't a big fan of Austin himself (as I am sure most people living in East Texas feel the same way)... He informed me Kim, the woman who owns the bakery, used to live in Austin for quite some time.  She makes the carrot cakes and cupcakes for thunder-cloud subs, in fact (for everyone/anyone who knows of thunder-cloud).

Anyway, I say goodbye to Mark and head over to meet this lovely lady.

I walk in, and order some breakfast.  I told her about my encounter with Mark, and asked her about her business...why she had moved to Lexington, Texas, of all places, from Austin.

Kim, began to tell me of all the changes in Austin, in the past 20 some years.
Originally from Orange County, CA, she moved to Austin, to help a friend who had a new born baby.
She wasn't really attached to anything, anymore, in Orange County, so her gypsy self decided, why the hell not...?

When Austin became too much, she decided to move out to the quiet country town of Lexington.
Quite a while back she was lucky enough to find that person.  Her other half.
She told me of the ups and downs they had.
Some how they always managed to find their way back to each other, over 40 years.
And now, once things seemed to settle down, illness rears it's ugly head.
He moved to Lexington for her, and was recently diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.

The way she told me her story of the struggle with that one person....her person.
The person you go and call whenever you want to talk
Or the person you call when you don't really have anything to say.
The person you understand up and down.
The person that becomes apart of you...
Reminded me how beautiful connection is.
That the bull shit that gets in the way.
Anger.  Jealousy.  Doubt.  Pride.
Is there when you forget how precious time is.

Kim told me, "Keep on keepin' on.  Find your independence. Love yourself.  If you have your person.  Love that person.  If not.  Be yourself and open enough to allow people inn...before you get to the point where you don't want to meet new people. Dig in."

That was the best breakfast I have had in a long time...for more than just the tasty eggs, obviously.

It was a pretty deep start to my day...haha.
Thanks ladies :)  it was a great chat.  xoxo

 Tina, Kim's friend, mentioned that Elgin won the football game the night before.  I think they were the under dogs, from what I understood, so it was an exiting win I am sure.

I made my way out of Lexington on 696 and saw this....

I figured it was a good sign for what is coming for me soon enough ;)

It seemed like the sky was ready to drop grey and blue water balloons, the whole way to the station.
It was beautiful :)
The breeze was refreshing.  It was a good day to listen to Kings of Leon.

I didn't really know what to expect out of A&M.
I was so happy Zach was kind enough to let me crash on his couch.
He was a wonderful host.  It was fun to explore North Gate.
I was really impressed with the night life (I don't know why...it is a college town)
I, admittedly, was expecting a bonfire, a football game, and cowboys... which would have been 100% okay with me :) haha.  I was ready to embrace the country side within me.
I think listening to some Johnny Cash on my way into town helped fill that void...

North Gate seemed more like a (very) small 6th street...with a hint of Ft. Worth.
Regardless, I got a shower, a comfy couch, some beer, and great company!
It was pleasant surprise to run into an old friend, from 3rd grade...Mr. Kuecker!
It was really nice to see more familiar faces than expected.
I am glad I made the trek East for sure!  It was quite the experience. Thanks fellas!

Cheers!

On the Road Again...

  It always takes me quite some time to "warm up", if you will, to write a blog...or write at all for that matter...  It has always been intimidating to put my thoughts and experiences down in words.  So, now, after about 90 minutes of facebook, editing the layout of my blog, and routing tomorrows ride to Dallas...I guess I am ready to write...
  First, thank you for reading this.. :)  Thanks for taking the time.  Thanks for caring.  Thanks for your donations.  Thank you for being you.


I cannot really put into words how I was feeling the last few days, let alone hours, before leaving... On my own... on a bicycle.  I wasn't really thinking.  I was scrambling.  Scrambling to clean my empty apartment.  Strategically packing my bike.  Not really all that excited to say good bye to my very excited and supportive friends/clients.  (I don't believe in goodbyes..therefore I am not very good at them..)

After the many errands and hugs....I was off!  North East bound to the one and only College Station.

I planned on pedaling my way out of Austin early October 10th... I wound up leaving around 12 pm... late start (no surprise there!)

I headed out on Springdale (East Austin) kept East onto Loyola.  As I got further and further away from the city, the roads got quieter, and the grass was greener, after all.  I headed North onto 973.

I road through Manor, thinking I would go ahead and take 290 up to Elgin...when I got to the highway, I remembered why I like the back roads so much...it is quiet. it is country. it is green.  Bliss.

I went back through Manor and headed East onto Old Hwy 290.  When Old 290 turned into Littig, that is where the fun happened!  

Already having a late day, I knew I wasn't going to make it to Aggieland with 5 more hours of daylight...so when you run into a Ghost Town.  In the middle of no where Texas.  You stop to check it out.  No questions asked.

I pulled into the drive, and waved at a man laying gravel.  Grabbed my trail mix, water, and phone.  I walked through the "town", causally taking pictures for about 20 minutes.  While on my way back to the bike, the man laying gravel, George, came up.  He told me about the Ghost town.  He owned the 15  haunted acres, and he built it all himself.  While working at the attorney general's office for 45 years, he slowly built a ghost town in his spare time.  He built the bar.  The movie theater.  Installed volleyball courts and horse shoes.  As he was talking about it, you could hear the excited youthfulness in his voice.  He was so proud of this town, that many people can come to enjoy.  Kids can come to watch movies and run around.  Or adults can cruise around through the haunted amusement after a beer and a burger.  

I love that I ran into this place because I decided not to take the highway.

George and I had a glass of sweet tea.

It was nice to shoot the shit with a small town, Texan.

I asked him how he made this place happen...

He said, "Adding at least one board a day.  At least.  Just one more board each day"

After Texas style tea time, George went back to shoveling gravel, and I was back on the road.  Pedaling.

Meeting George and taking the time to exchange ideas and stories really lifted the funk of whatever I was feeling the hours/days before leaving Austin.  

I road for a few more hours through some nice small, windy, shaded hills.  Following the train tracks into Elgin.  I was hungry, and not quite ready to begin my diet of PB&J's quite yet.  At this point I could eat anything...but when I saw the Mexican food restaurant I was so pleased!

Nachos was for dinner :)

The restaurant was quiet.  There was a television in the back.  A spanish channel, with some Mexican women, wearing brightly colored dresses were arguing about something...while and older Mexican man seemed to be a mediator of sorts...but really just seemed to be making the situation worse..haha..I don't know.

I chatted with the young girl, who was my waitress.  She was in high school.  I asked her about school and football (as that is how conversations are started here in Texas a lot of the time...).  Apparently Manor High School and (her school) Elgin High, were rivals, both undefeated...they had a game in town that evening.  That being said, I wished her school luck, finished my nachos, and unplugged my phone...I wasn't about to try and get stuck in the middle of a small town with a huge football game on the rise.  (Although, it would be quite an experience.)

I headed East out of Elgin, toward Lexington on W FM 696...I was about 9 miles out of Lexington when the sun started to sink and the trucks seemed to be going a bit faster down this small country road.  Called it quits around 7 o'clock.  I was lucky enough to run into a church right when I started to feel iffy about the riding conditions...I thought I would just set up camp behind it.  There was a plug outside and everything.  I thought I'd check to see if the doors were open at all.  Thinking it would be nice to have a roof the first night out.  I was in luck, again.  The side door happened to be open.  It's funny how things work out...

I didn't get to sleep right away... feeling a bit nervous on Texans, guns, and breaking and entering (so to speak..).  I was feeling slightly lonely and a bit weirded out being in such a still, quiet church.  

It didn't help much that there seemed to be a squirrel eating nuts in the tree on the side of the church and throwing the shell down onto the tin roof every 15 minutes...but I was happy, dry, and safe.  So it didn't faze me too much.

Every so often I would hear a new sound, besides the dogs barking in the distance, or the wind brushing the tree's branches against the fence.  I would lay still, holding my breath for a few seconds...  waiting, to see if the foreign sound, would sound again.  Trying to decipher what this new noise could be.  It was somewhat entertaining.  The trucks passing on the small road at 70 miles an hour every 30-40 minutes, were surprisingly comforting.

After washing my face, brushing my teeth, and repacking my bike it was finally time to lay down.  I didn't get much sleep, but was excited to get back on the bike, and down the road.