Mormon Missionaries Miles 3705-3775 May 22

Mormon Missionaries Miles 3705-3775 May 22

Wednesday night at church someone asked me if I knew what city has the most bicycles per capita. “Eugene, Oregon,” I said. I’m often wrong. But never uncertain. “Seattle,” he said.

As I ride up to the Mill Inn in Excelsior Springs Thursday morning, a man and a woman about my age are just coming out the door. They are dressed in biker garb and pulling on their gloves as they step toward their bikes leaning against the wall. Road bikes! With front and rear panniers. Bed rolls lashed to the rack behind their seats. A tent. Camping gear. Maybe a kitchen sink in there somewhere.

“Wow! You’re loaded. Where you from?”

“Eugene, Oregon,” the woman says. Her name is Sally Quiglen; his is Andy Brtis. They flew from Eugene to Kansas City. A bike shop in Eugene boxed up their bikes and shipped them to Smithville. They camped last night in Watkins Mill State Park. They have come to ride the Katy Trail to its termination in St. Charles, Missouri. Then to southern Wisconsin and Minnesota. They’re headed up Highway 10 to Wood Heights, where they will turn south and make their way over to Highway 210 and then 13. “We stay on back roads as much as possible,” she says.

Andy tells me he doesn’t hear well. Sally and I do most of the talking. I tell them about the long steep hill as 10 leaves Excelsior Springs. “But you will have a paved shoulder most of the way to Wood Heights.”

“Are you ridin’ that bike out front?” He asks. It’s about an hour later. I’m having a tenderloin sandwich at Catrick’s in Lawson. “Yes,” I say. “How far you ridin’? “I came from Liberty. A week from Saturday a hundred of us will ride a hundred miles and Catrick’s is preparing lunch for us. We’ll raise $10,000 for MS that day.” “My name is Ken Morse,” he says. “I ride the MS-150. A friend asked me to ride the BAK--Bike across Kansas-- with him this year. From June 7-14, we’ll ride over 400 miles.”

“Our 100 miles ride on May 31^st is part of my plan to ride 10,000 miles this year and raise $100,000 for MS and $10,000 for HateBusters.” I say. Ken and his friend, Jerry Hubberd, go with me to my bike. I give each of them a Mickey Card. We wish each other well.

I’m a block past the railroad underpass, headed south on Missouri when I spot them riding toward me. Young men in white shirts, black pants, and wearing ties. Mormon missionaries. We stop for quick introductions. Elder Barnes is from Canada. The other young man is from Sandy, Utah. I don’t catch his name and in the excitement, I forget to ask.

“I admire you guys, giving two years and paying your own expenses to advance your beliefs. I visited Salt Lake City not long ago and toured the Temple complex.” “Do you have a copy of the book of Mormon?” They ask. “I have several.” “What do you think of it?”

I’m wearing my yellow HateBusters shirt. “My job,” I say, “is to help people be friendly to each other across religious lines. I go to the Baptist church. I take people of all faiths to visit one another. We have two understandings when we go: we don’t try to change the people we visit; and, we don’t plan to join them. We know who we are. We want to know them and build bridges between us.”

I ask them their plans. They have only recently met each other when they were sent here from different places. One has completed 14 months of his two-year commitment; the other, four months. They may be reassigned anytime to any place. I ask who decides where they go. “We have a supervisor. He prays about where to send us.” My admiration for those who can so order their lives is profound. “When we finish our missionary duties we will go back to school, get married and live our lives,” they say. I wish them God’s speed as we part.

The Church of the Open Road Miles 3775-3795 May 23

Known for years as Richfield Road and Missouri City Road, this seven-mile stretch of pavement climbs hills and plummets down and winds around curves until it comes to EE. Also known as NE 84^th Street since the advent of 911 as the emergency number, this roller coaster road has a permanent place in my bicycle memory bank.

In the spring of 1987 as I was planning my ride across America, Phil Maslin, a Jewell alum and a cameraman for Channel 4 TV, wanted to shoot a short sports video. We drove around Liberty, looking for the perfect spot. Richfield! Phil filmed me plummeting down the long hill the home of Rex and Marilyn Rhoades sits atop. We stopped at their mailbox for conversation with David Johnson, Phil’s photography teacher at William Jewell. Phil’s film won an award. Disney incorporated it into a video they made when I got to Disneyland.

Today is May 23, 2003. I have just labored up the hill to sit in the shade of a tree beside the Rhoades’ mailbox. Back to the west toward Liberty I can see much of the Jewell campus: White Science Center, Jewell Hall, Curry Library, Gano Chapel, Brown Hall and the dorm with the red tile roof. A magnificent sight on a spring day.

To the east other hills rise and fall. Nebo and Lancaster Roads intersect. Art Still when he was a Kansas City Chief lived off to the left at the bottom of a hill. Barking dogs come out most days as the road begins its rapid decent down the winding hill that passes beneath the railroad bridge. If I’m not in granny gear as I come under the bridge, the abrupt climb takes a terrible toll.

With grades that rival the Rockies and scenery reminiscent of the Smokies, this road of many names lures me at every season of the year. I seldom stop to ponder the vistas I see. I made myself a rule when I first began to ride that no matter how spectacular or awesome the scene, I would not stop to take it in. Knowing that I cannot stop makes the moment more precious to me. And, also, I live with this prodding sensation that down the road something else is waiting that may be gone if I do not arrive in time.

The Church of the Open Road—this is another name I have given to this ribbon of asphalt wending its way through these Missouri hills.

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