Now what?

I've been asking myself this question for, well over a week, now.  So here goes.  I don't really know how to create the sort of buzz that a trip and an ironman did.  I'm hoping that whatever I attempt doesn't end up as some sort of referendum on my "regular life".  But the URL says it all.  I don't know why I've waited so many years (eight? nine?) to claim this blog or web address, but here goes: 

http://unencumberedwoman.blogspot.com/

And Now This.

Packed my things. Went on a trip. Did an Ironman.  Now I'm back here.  Just like the Cold Cows.

mile 6481

well, we made it.  All 6481 miles.  A summer of no flats (bike OR car), no blow outs, and no crashes (well, actually, one bike crash, but at least it was close to home and didn't include the kids).  Our final day was a little odd.  I was dizzy from driving so much, that we really had to set out with the intention of making it home.  Ashby was a terrific help in this endeavor.  I was a little sad to be leaving the western states, but Iowa provides some great scenery, like anywhere.

antiques!!!!

Our first stop was about three hours into the drive.  I pulled into Casey, Iowa to find a gas station and figured we'd have a good photo op.

I was thrilled when I discovered this hidden town.  Casey brags a great antique collection and, well, about the only thing I didn't accomplish on this trip was antiquing.  I had secretly hoped that as I empty my car of passengers and cargo that I would have room enough for that special sideboard that I would find in the middle of nowhere. 

Casey's downtown reminded me of the sad poetic charm that I love about small midwestern towns.  This place was surreal.  An absolute ghost town, except for the man in the Kum & Go, and the two women hosting antique shops that looked more closed than open, from the outside.  The only thing fresh in the town were the 14 american flags that I saw flying, standing on ONE corner.  Go Team.

I can't say that I found that sideboard, but Ashby found a little pig, and I found a postcard of the LA Airport, ca 1950 or 60.

The card was addressed to a Mrs. Clare B. Barnes, Bloomfield, Iowa, RR #2:

Monday Morning


Dear Mother:
We are on our way home. We arrived here on Friday afternoon and then was involved in an auto accident Saturday afternoon. Louise and I were in the back seat and while sitting at a stop sign, a car came out of nowhere and hit us broadside. No one hurt except me and I have two broken ribs on the left side. Was in the hospital Saturday night and Sunday morning and they have me all bound up. Guess one rib is broken in two places and one part of it is misplaced. Can't lay down and what sleeping I do is in a chair. It sure is painful. We thought it best to get back home as we can't enjoy anything here.

Well, I can't imagine any find more worthy of ending this summer adventure.  The collecting of stories, the journey, the wonder. But, alas, we all must come home, for whatever reason.

can i buy the town?

last rest stop, Iowa

Thelma and Louis overlooking the Mississippi

Our proud state's accomplishment.

 

Nebraska, part two, OR, after six thousand miles still dumb?

 

How can there not be more to say about our stay in Nebraska when my short lived career as a full time blogger is about to come screeching to a halt?  Ashby has become quite the navigator, and her skills in keeping focus and calmly assessing the situation has brought us this close to home.  Many times today she said: "at this rate, we will make it to Lincoln, but we might as well go on to Omaha!!" That's the spirit, girl!

So we pull the plug on Omaha, since we're tired and hungry and we have tomorrow, after all.  I find the exit with a number of motels and quickly realize that there is almost NO Food available.  Not good, but I make an instant executive decision that Peter would frown upon.  I survey the situation and think to myself, 30 days of absolutely quiet sleeptime and soft comfy clean beds, this is my Last Night before the sounds of Home (cats, horns, creaks, alarms, cars, trains, planes, motion sensor light systems and even generators), so I splurge big and walk right into the Hampton Inn and insist upon a night with a HOT meal in the AM.  Ashby's face is alight.  She knows she's landed in Motel Heaven.  Once we secure the room and make sure it's up to our standards, we must navigate nutrition:

ahhh....

setting up her office

So we unleash ourselves upon the slim-pickings food fare.  There is a food court next door, so we opt for the quiznos salad and buttered pasta.  Needless to say, if there is a food court, there is Chinese Food:

Then I'm looking at the desolate BP station across the street, thinking, i'd love to get a beer before bed, so I drag my kid across the street to see what sort of beer a BP station in Lincoln sells.  Well, I decide I might as well buy a six pack because Fat Tire is on sale for 6.49 so I can bring 5 beers home in the cooler.  I stupidly say to the guy behind the counter, "Oh, I'll get the six pack because it's cheap."  His response?? " It's been a long time since anybody said that around here"....oops. 

I didn't see a BP station in BC, OR, ID, CO, WA....

mile 5437-5956.6

Getting down to the wire, here.  I guess it's a good time to get honest about the URL, has it really been thirty days?  I guess, more like: 32, considering we finish on Monday, Labor Day.  It's Sunday evening and we made it from Fort Collins to Lincoln, NE without a lot of difficulty, except that once again we got off to a late start ( I was battling some stomach thing last night and was exhausted this morning). It's always very bittersweet to leave the quiet beauty of Fort Collins, because we are usually headed for lower lands, less sun, more traffic, more people, more, well, of a lot of things.  But it's good to be finally shoving off for home.  Time to be together as a family again.  We drove through a corner of Wyoming, and spent most of the day driving across Nebraska.  Nebraska was sort of like the first twenty miles of a marathon in an ironman. It's slow going, and after all I've already done, I can't believe I'm faced with such a journey.  I'd have to say that the most visually stunning sight on this stretch has to be the sky:

We were in rapid motion, and didn't stop for at least three hours. When we pulled into a rest area in Nebraska, it was hot, humid, Not at Altitude, and, well, I could tell we were finally coming home.  In fact, as I got back behind the wheel, there he was, the first IL license plate I've seen in 28 days:

I've spotted another creature from my planet.

So, yes, the trip is beginning to wear on me and I'm not so sure I love what I see.  Nebraska is tough. It delivers a lot of the uncomfortable truths about America, in combination with the sort of weather that makes plainsfolk humble and strong.  When we landed at a gas station after we had crossed over the central time zone I knew we were in the Midwest, plain and simple.  We suddenly weren't the only minivan on the road, for one thing.  But we took an extra few minutes to savor this scenery:

Tour de fat

What better way to end a 30 day road trip than a giant bike/beer festival in Fort Collins, CO?  The whole thing starts off with the biggest Bike Parade imaginable. An estimated 10,000 bicycles, all destined to ride to the brewery.  Bill says that its mardi gras, meets halloween, meets st. patrick's day.  We got dressed up in costume, then hit the streets to watch the parade, then join the parade, then ultimately hang out for a while at the event site, but we could only partake in so much of the fun.  Clearly, we are getting older and more mature.

sitting at a light with the lake/harlem guys

Later on that day, Ashby and I went to White Balcony to look for some cool thing to buy.  We found ourselves at the downtown mall which has a great little area with fountains and community gathering.

there, an opportunity to witness some of "non-white" Fort Collins.  There was a hip hop dance group out performing for fun.  Ashby & I enjoyed the vibe, then made our way home. 

Name that Tune:

Maybe it was the summer of Led Zeppelin, after all.  Truckers driving across Wyoming I think listen to a lot of country, but I also picked up some slammin classic rock.

And another thing....

One thing that I noticed on this trip is that there are a lot of signs, bumper stickers, flags and whatnot that represent something that I know nothing about. It seems to me that the red/blue divide is so gaping that we don't even recognize the things that are supposed to incite anger.  For example, I know about the whole don't tread on me thing and also about the american flag and about the yellow ribbons, but I had to drive really close to this car to read what they were upset about.

FOCA (something something no abortion)

I don't know how many acronyms I've seen this month that mean absolutely nothing to me.