It started with one, early December, somewhere between Emporia and Dodge City, Kansas. I had camped in a holt I found my way into the night before, off some unknown county road. After an early morning breakfast and a repacking of the bike I headed out.
It's hard to describe the maneuvering of the bike in and out of wooded areas with all it's weight. There's a push-pull method used, using the bikes weight to create a forward momentum-tanking. There's a accompanying sound of snapping branches and twigs. At times a slight lifting over barriers that can not be bullied. Drifting between impasses. Things tend to catch, like on this day, that are not immediately obvious. My quick brained brute self pushed-pulled harder. Something snapped, not the usual crisp wooden sound, but twangy metallic. A spoke. Rear wheel. Under all that weight. Shit.
Two, or more, days later another spoke gave, rear wheel, cassette side. In order to replace them I would need to remove the cassette, which is tricky with the tools on hand. Concern kidnapped a large part of my grey as I pushed on. Moving in a slower, gentler, manner towards Dodge City, the next major town that might have what I need. You already know it's not going to happen. Sure enough, down the road sometime, 20 miles outside Dodge City, a third went. The rear wheel warped. Stronger curses then. The bike was unrideable but minimally pushable.
I thought about stashing the bike/gear and walking/hitching, but a quick search of bike shops in Dodge City revealed there were none. Leaving everything was risky, worried not about theft of gear, but being separate of my gear. Since there was no guarantee that I would find what I needed, I may have to travel beyond Dodge City to find necessary the repairs. An early arctic air mass had begun settled across the area, colder days, even colder nights. To be sperate from my gear could be disastrous, plus I have an aversion to backtracking. Another, option would be to hitchhike with gear in tow, but who knows how many hours could be spent waiting-person, bike and gear lowers odds of getting picked up, and just standing there doesn't get me any nearer to repairs. So, its left, and right, to my own feet, the whole while, keeping hope alive that someone crazy enough to stop, would.
A big breath out; and, go. A little while later its all curses for those who pass, failing to inquire why I am pushing a perfectly good bike down the road. I mean who pushes a bike (this person does)? Not that I blame them, its all the gear, it shouts, "keep going". Eventually, someone did stop, and yes, they were their own brand of crazy. We parted the bike, then some push-pull until it fitted into their vehicle. Thirty minutes later I'm drop off at the edge of Dodge City. I stash the bike and gear in a wooded area, covering it with a camouflage tarp.
The next hours were spent running around Dodge City stopping by box stores, thrift shops, any place that had the potential, even stopped a person on a bike to inquire if they had what was needed. It is starting to get dark and my options have slimmed to one, buy a brand-new cheap bike at a box store, which would cost a couple of bills, expensive for one part. Dismay captures it's own piece of gray.
A thought came to me, pop an ad on the local Craigslist Wanted section: "stranded in Dodge City, need rear bike wheel, cheap or free. A half-hour later a response came: "$10, has some issues". We met. It's a nice wheel, but it looked like someone had tightened a few of spokes too much and cracked the rim around their housing, I feared the wheel wouldn't last long. A check online told me the nearest possibility for finding a bike shop was Montezuma, KS, about 17 miles down the road. I bought the wheel, hoping it would last until a shop couldn be reached.
On the road again, easy and smooth, fingers crossed. Sometime in the late afternoon I rode into Montezuma. To be honest my scepticism about finding a bike shop in this small town was high. The only reference of a bike shop in Montezuma, was a online yellow pages listing, which lead me to prepare myself that I may not find one at all. I arrived at the coroner of Montezuma's main street finding a library. I stopped and went in to inquire about a bike shop. I was greeted by the librarian, wearing a bonnet and pink dress (most likely homemade I noted to myself). Amish, I questioned myself. No, the library has ideas and tech-all those wires-most Amish wouldn't want any part of. I stowed my curiosity, asking about the potential of finding a bike shop. The librarian informed me that there was bike shop name Rans and directions were given.
Minutes later as I leaned the bike against Rans's shop wall a man pulled up on a bike. We greeted. I shared my need. He mentioned something about Rans, and another about some other bike shop, that I didn't fully process, though the information was subconsciously cached. At the moment my focus was shifting gears, as captured gray is release knowing relief is at hand, flooding an already naturally altered mind (affects of the exercise and metatative states of biking) with more natural chemicals. It can take a few moments focus. The stowed curiosity of the librarian's dress came to the forefront, possibly, my minds way to bring focus, which I inquire about. He answered, like himself, Mennonite. As we walked into Rands, I'm still shifting focusing. Once inside, looking around it began to sink in, the cached conversation. It's not a traditional bike shop, rather a Mennonite owned custom bike manufacturer, I come to find out, now that I was more fully engaged. I was introduced to some of the shop workers and checked out some really nice bikes. My guide told me that if need be Rans would help me, but there was another shop around the corner which was better suited to make the repairs. I was amazed that this town, which could be reach end-to-end in minutes, had two bike shop, in contrast to the much larger Dodge City, which had none.
After Rands my guide and I traveled to Montezuma Bikes found at edge of Montezuma, housed in a nondescript pre-fab building with little more than home made sign for advertising. We walked in and were immediately blanketed in wave of warmth emanating from a wood stove centered in the middle of this small shop. Big breath out; and, release. It was the first real warmth I had felt in weeks. I was introduced to the shop owner. The three of us turned to the task of repairing my bike. I was hooked up with a nice used back wheel, that I still rock today, a couple thousand miles later, and a new tube. The shop owner in the end charged me $2 for the cost of the tube. The task at hand completed, I sat next to the wood stove and enjoyed a temporary break from the elements. Moments later my guide, to paraphrase, said, "I looked like I could use a break from my situation, he had cleared it with his wife and was welcone to stay at his home for the night."
I was invited into his home. Introduced to his wife and shown to a room with a bed and bathroom, which containing a shower. Thirty minutes later I was clean, warmed, to the marrow. I was fed to my fill. The rest evening we chat, until I break for the bed. In the morning I'm fed, more conversation, then maps come out we as discussed my route. I dressed for the cold road. Said, good-byes. They were gracious hosts and I hope was like wise as a guest.
When I hit the road, it's about 8 a.m. and 16 degrees. I'm geared up so it doesn't take me long to get to a bearable temperature. A few hours later was planning lunch in the next town I would hit, a few miles up the road. When a white trunk going in the opposite direction slowed and turned around. I slowed to a stop. The driver, a bearded red head, approached me and said, "brought you a hot meal, its cold out here", which I accepted with thanks. I told him I was just going to stop in the next town for lunch. He asked if I needed some money, as he reached for his wallet. I graciously decline. We chat for a minute, he's from Montezuma, I presumed Mennonite*. We said farewells and parted. A few mins later I'm eating, "his lunch", I wondered to myself.
Thank you Montezuma.
...
Notes: I presumed the individual who stopped to give me lunch was Mennonite, not only because he was from Montezuma, but because he was bearded. Most Mennonite men grow beards because that is how God made them. A little more about Mennonites as I understand it. Mennonite are a relatively small Christian sect, numbering about 2 million world wide, about 70,000 in the U.S, with the largest population residing in Canada. Many women wear bonnets, I didn't learn the reason behind this, but the head covering of women is ubiquitous through out the scriptures. Many Mennonites don't play competitive sports, engage in most government activity, enlist in the military, attend school beyond middle school, watch TV and movies, nor listen to the radio. You can click here if you're interested in learning more about Mennonites.
Here is a link to Rans bicycles
TIP: Large major chain thrift shops are a great place to find use bikes in the $15-$50 range. Most will not be great bikes in of themselves, but are great make-do for parts. A brand new tire retail it's self will cost $20+, the back wheel I needed $25+. So, if they have a bike throw down the cash for one, field strip down the parts you need and can pack. Donate the rest of the bike back to the shop.
I was riding on a bike trail along the Platte River in Denver, CO when it started to rain. I stopped at first bridge that the trail went under. The owner of this set up was there taking shelter. He told me he had walked, not rode, from Tennesse to Sturgis, SD and was now walking to Texas.
Take a look at the trailer. There is a few small containers on the top that housed his personal gear and all rest was his bedding. There is a cot, four or five sleeping pads of some sort, and large container that held his comforters and blankets. I was expecting to find a sleep number mattress in there. He was just pushing his bed across America.