Day 33 Kirksville, MO to Quincy, IL
This July 6, 2006 ride of 97 miles had LOTS of excitement. In fact, I was excited before the ride ever started. Larry Fariss started talking about crossing the Mississippi a few days ago and the impact finally registered on me last night. This was going to really be cool!
I woke up feeling absolutely great. I'd stretched the night before and a little in the morning and I almost felt giddy before we got started. I couldn't wait to pedal the 71 miles to the ferry that would take us across the mighty Mississippi to my current home state of Illinois.
The ride to the first rest stop around 30 miles was fast, quiet and uneventful. I pushed out of the rest stop even more excited than when I started. My bike was working perfectly and I had more strength and energy than the day I left California.
At about the 50 mile mark I started hearing a sound that was new to my bike. As I listened more intently for the next couple of miles, the sound grew in size. At first I thought it was coming from my front wheel and at about 54 miles I stopped and checked all the spokes. Nothing. I peddled a little more and then sound continued to irritate me. At 56 miles I again stopped and now thought I'd isolated it to the rear wheel. When I picked up the bike and checked the true of the rear wheel I discovered that it was rubbing my bike in three places--two different places on the frame (bottom bracket) and both of my brakes. And when I checked the spokes, each was as taught and tight as when I left this morning.
Since I've never been much at truing a wheel on the run, I elected to try and "adjust" the brakes and the rear wheel in the hopes I could milk it to the ferry where I figured our support vehicle could lend more help.
In short, I was wrong. Ugh!
I've had some rubs before but this was down right painful. I had elected to press forward as is because I figured I was not even close to either support vehicle--literally out in the boonies.
With the noise sounding like the little engine that could and my optimism waning, the tire exploded at the 68 mile mark, just a couple miles short of the ferry I was trying to make. Fortunately, the hill I was riding down was not too steep and my speed was only about 16 miles per hour at the time. Had either been greater, my blog would likely have had reports of more blood and less humor.
After dismounting my wounded steed, I tried to walk and drag her along, but the rear wheel was now almost frozen in it's distorted shape. Realizing that I was not going to portage the bike very far, I stuck my thumb out and hoped a passing motorist would lend a hand to a crippled cyclist. In about 30 seconds, a truck passed me, turned around and stopped to ask if I needed help. A sign from above!
I tossed my bike in the back, and introduced myself to a gentleman named Mr. Joe Stevenson. Joe offered to drop me at the ferry and inquired where I was from. When I told him "Fairview Heights, IL", he smiled and said his brother lived there too. He went on to say that his twin brother Cecil lived in a Jack Nicklaus golf community and lived on the 8th fairway.
I almost swallowed my tongue. Arlene and I live in the same development on the 7th fairway! Later Arlene reminded me that Cecil's wife Pat had been a member of the neighborhood book club and that Pat had recently passed away. Arlene sent Cecil and his family a sympathy note and subsequently, Cecil had sent the note that I'd seen laying on my desk at our house for a couple months.
Another message from above, "Yes, Steve, it is indeed a VERY small world and, I am looking out for you." Thank you, God.
As I sat at the SAG wagon with Barb Munk I smiled and quietly accepted the fact I'd be riding in the van for the last 27 miles after the ferry crossing since there were no more spare wheels available--I and my teammates had used the 3 that the company provides as emergency backups.
Barb offered to open the luggage van so I could change into my shorts and regular shoes versus my sweaty biking gear and cleated shoes. I found my bag among the 50+ in the trailer, pulled out some comfortable clothes and my book (Flag of our Fathers), changed inside the trailer, and proceeded to wind down as the other riders pulled into the rest stop.
I also decided to try and improve my position by asking Arlene for an emergency delivery of a wheel from my hometown bike shop, the Touring Cyclist. Arlene kindly rearranged her schedule and picked up both a wheel for me and a wheel for fellow biker, Scott Terpstra and would deliver them later in the afternoon. At least I was going to go down fighting!
About 10 minutes later, Mike, our fearless leader, drove up and examined my wheel. For the second time he found a giant crack about 1/2 inch long extending along the rim near a spoke. Another wheel gone. Since this was a "community/emergency spare" wheel, there was really no way of knowing how many miles were on the wheel. All any of us knew was that it was not repairable. Technical note--it appears my 210 lbs coupled with some serious torque up and down the hills of America are placing an inordinate amount of stress on these wheels. That said, I may need to buy a high tech, $900 set to make sure this doesn't happen again. Please send all donations via my Wolfrun Trail address.
No sooner had Mike made his discovery than he offered to let me use his very own personal $450 rear wheel. He immediately took it off and put my rear gear cluster on his wheel while I did the Superman change #2 in the back of the trailer. Ten minutes later, I was peddling toward the ferry and alternately thanking God and Mike for the assistance that would enable me to cross the Mississippi like a man and ride the last miles into the next stop.
The ferry ride was nothing short of euphoric! This Mississippi is actually beautiful, placid and tranquil in this area. While it remains muddy and opaque, it's banks are grass and tree lined and it almost has the appearance of a lake. The ride happened way to quickly and was over in about 12 minutes.
In my elated state, I tromped on those pedals and raced down the winding country road for about 7 miles, proceeded to make two wrong turns that added about 3 miles to my ride and found myself quite a distance behind my buddies who were riding in a pace line headed for the hotel.
Reorienting myself, I put my head down, stayed aerodynamic on my aero bars and caught them about 20 minutes later. I eventually linked up with Karen, one of the ride leaders, and alternately drafted with her for over 15 miles while battling a 10 mph headwind.
As we inched closer to Quincy the sights became more and more interesting. Quincy has 2 really cool bridges, one for east traffic (old bridge) and one for west traffic into Missouri. As we peddled into town we also saw some world class early 1900 houses on Maine Street. These homes were breathtaking and would wow even a seasoned traveler.
About an hour after Karen and I had the mandatory milk shake at Steak and Shake, Arlene arrived with the previously mentioned two wheels. Thanks Dawn at the Touring Cyclist for coming through when we really needed your help!
After a little dinner at a Chinese buffet, Arlene and I went together to see the houses on Maine Street and also stopped by the park down near the river. Finally, we visited the site of the famous Lincoln-Douglas debate and felt a sense of history that doesn't always strike us. It was so nice just to relax together on a cool, comfortable evening.
On to Springfield!
I woke up feeling absolutely great. I'd stretched the night before and a little in the morning and I almost felt giddy before we got started. I couldn't wait to pedal the 71 miles to the ferry that would take us across the mighty Mississippi to my current home state of Illinois.
The ride to the first rest stop around 30 miles was fast, quiet and uneventful. I pushed out of the rest stop even more excited than when I started. My bike was working perfectly and I had more strength and energy than the day I left California.
At about the 50 mile mark I started hearing a sound that was new to my bike. As I listened more intently for the next couple of miles, the sound grew in size. At first I thought it was coming from my front wheel and at about 54 miles I stopped and checked all the spokes. Nothing. I peddled a little more and then sound continued to irritate me. At 56 miles I again stopped and now thought I'd isolated it to the rear wheel. When I picked up the bike and checked the true of the rear wheel I discovered that it was rubbing my bike in three places--two different places on the frame (bottom bracket) and both of my brakes. And when I checked the spokes, each was as taught and tight as when I left this morning.
Since I've never been much at truing a wheel on the run, I elected to try and "adjust" the brakes and the rear wheel in the hopes I could milk it to the ferry where I figured our support vehicle could lend more help.
In short, I was wrong. Ugh!
I've had some rubs before but this was down right painful. I had elected to press forward as is because I figured I was not even close to either support vehicle--literally out in the boonies.
With the noise sounding like the little engine that could and my optimism waning, the tire exploded at the 68 mile mark, just a couple miles short of the ferry I was trying to make. Fortunately, the hill I was riding down was not too steep and my speed was only about 16 miles per hour at the time. Had either been greater, my blog would likely have had reports of more blood and less humor.
After dismounting my wounded steed, I tried to walk and drag her along, but the rear wheel was now almost frozen in it's distorted shape. Realizing that I was not going to portage the bike very far, I stuck my thumb out and hoped a passing motorist would lend a hand to a crippled cyclist. In about 30 seconds, a truck passed me, turned around and stopped to ask if I needed help. A sign from above!
I tossed my bike in the back, and introduced myself to a gentleman named Mr. Joe Stevenson. Joe offered to drop me at the ferry and inquired where I was from. When I told him "Fairview Heights, IL", he smiled and said his brother lived there too. He went on to say that his twin brother Cecil lived in a Jack Nicklaus golf community and lived on the 8th fairway.
I almost swallowed my tongue. Arlene and I live in the same development on the 7th fairway! Later Arlene reminded me that Cecil's wife Pat had been a member of the neighborhood book club and that Pat had recently passed away. Arlene sent Cecil and his family a sympathy note and subsequently, Cecil had sent the note that I'd seen laying on my desk at our house for a couple months.
Another message from above, "Yes, Steve, it is indeed a VERY small world and, I am looking out for you." Thank you, God.
As I sat at the SAG wagon with Barb Munk I smiled and quietly accepted the fact I'd be riding in the van for the last 27 miles after the ferry crossing since there were no more spare wheels available--I and my teammates had used the 3 that the company provides as emergency backups.
Barb offered to open the luggage van so I could change into my shorts and regular shoes versus my sweaty biking gear and cleated shoes. I found my bag among the 50+ in the trailer, pulled out some comfortable clothes and my book (Flag of our Fathers), changed inside the trailer, and proceeded to wind down as the other riders pulled into the rest stop.
I also decided to try and improve my position by asking Arlene for an emergency delivery of a wheel from my hometown bike shop, the Touring Cyclist. Arlene kindly rearranged her schedule and picked up both a wheel for me and a wheel for fellow biker, Scott Terpstra and would deliver them later in the afternoon. At least I was going to go down fighting!
About 10 minutes later, Mike, our fearless leader, drove up and examined my wheel. For the second time he found a giant crack about 1/2 inch long extending along the rim near a spoke. Another wheel gone. Since this was a "community/emergency spare" wheel, there was really no way of knowing how many miles were on the wheel. All any of us knew was that it was not repairable. Technical note--it appears my 210 lbs coupled with some serious torque up and down the hills of America are placing an inordinate amount of stress on these wheels. That said, I may need to buy a high tech, $900 set to make sure this doesn't happen again. Please send all donations via my Wolfrun Trail address.
No sooner had Mike made his discovery than he offered to let me use his very own personal $450 rear wheel. He immediately took it off and put my rear gear cluster on his wheel while I did the Superman change #2 in the back of the trailer. Ten minutes later, I was peddling toward the ferry and alternately thanking God and Mike for the assistance that would enable me to cross the Mississippi like a man and ride the last miles into the next stop.
The ferry ride was nothing short of euphoric! This Mississippi is actually beautiful, placid and tranquil in this area. While it remains muddy and opaque, it's banks are grass and tree lined and it almost has the appearance of a lake. The ride happened way to quickly and was over in about 12 minutes.
In my elated state, I tromped on those pedals and raced down the winding country road for about 7 miles, proceeded to make two wrong turns that added about 3 miles to my ride and found myself quite a distance behind my buddies who were riding in a pace line headed for the hotel.
Reorienting myself, I put my head down, stayed aerodynamic on my aero bars and caught them about 20 minutes later. I eventually linked up with Karen, one of the ride leaders, and alternately drafted with her for over 15 miles while battling a 10 mph headwind.
As we inched closer to Quincy the sights became more and more interesting. Quincy has 2 really cool bridges, one for east traffic (old bridge) and one for west traffic into Missouri. As we peddled into town we also saw some world class early 1900 houses on Maine Street. These homes were breathtaking and would wow even a seasoned traveler.
About an hour after Karen and I had the mandatory milk shake at Steak and Shake, Arlene arrived with the previously mentioned two wheels. Thanks Dawn at the Touring Cyclist for coming through when we really needed your help!
After a little dinner at a Chinese buffet, Arlene and I went together to see the houses on Maine Street and also stopped by the park down near the river. Finally, we visited the site of the famous Lincoln-Douglas debate and felt a sense of history that doesn't always strike us. It was so nice just to relax together on a cool, comfortable evening.
On to Springfield!
posted by Steve King at 5:55 PM
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