The Bridge Is Out Miles 4760-4840 June 26

The Bridge Is Out Miles 4760-4840 June 26

The MM bridge just off Hwy. 69 east of Lawson is still out. Advise from a breakfast friend at Catrick’s brings me back on Salem Road to 174^th Street. This winding and hilly road brings me across 69 to Baxter Road and then to Endsley Road running off to my left. I know that name. I’ve been on that road before, though not here.

I stay on Baxter. Over some steep hills to a single railroad track. A long train passing gives me time to admire the green fields of thistles and small trees. No crops grow here. When the train has passed, a few more hills. And I’m back at MM. Just a few hundred yards past the missing bridge. I can see traffic on 69. I’ve ridden 10 miles. And I’m 1000 yards from where I started. What am I to think about that sign I saw as 174^th Street crossed 69: NO ACCESS TO MM? Have I entered the Twilight Zone? No matter. My goal is to ride many miles.

Riding through Watkins Mill State Park is always delightful. I take NE 161^st Street to the right as I come from the park. Just over the first hill the road becomes hard packed gravel. The old wooden railroad bridge on this road was replaced with a concrete bridge a few years back. I wouldn’t want to have to call 911 from the intersection I come to. There’s no marker. At the bottom of a hill a road merges from my right with the road I’m riding. I remember riding it before. I think it’s Endsley. If so, I’ve come a long way to get here. I could have taken Endsley off Baxter.

The Lay and Wedge wedding? Directions to a golf meet? I’m intrigued. For a mile or so along B Hwy between 69 and H, I pass reddish orange arrows spray painted on the road. Some say Lay. Some say Wedge. Then they stop. And I think maybe they’re instructions for road repair.

With today’s ride, I’m at 4860. Almost halfway to my 10,000.

I leave 291 at the first opportunity and turn right into Northland, a trailer home community carved from a corn field. A circular tour of the place brings me to Agnes St. and over I-435. A few miles later without turning I come to the intersection of N. Prospect and NE 132^nd St. I’m sure the one who laid out these streets could explain to me how this happened. The unseen and unconscious map-maker in my head leads me to the right on 132^nd. We’ll soon see what he has in mind.

Viola! I come soon to Mt. Olivet Christian Church. Since 1878 it’s been here. Now I’m on familiar ground. I’ve stopped here on hot days to rest. I remember that 132^nd will bring me eventually to Hwy. A, together with Hwy. 92, the only roads around here that I will not ride. With no shoulder, steep hills that belch cars and pickup trucks over every crest, bound for Smithville Lake, boats in tow, biker danger lurks on every hand. My son Brian was hit years ago on 92. He’s okay. But we got the message.

Maybe I misunderstood the map-maker in my head. Over several hills Mt. Olivet becomes Sherman and dumps me back on 291. Then I see that the southbound shoulder is about a foot wider than the northbound. The rumble strip is farther from the roadway now, making it easier to ride the shoulder. Still, 291 is noisy and busy. I exit at my first opportunity on NE 112^th. But it’s only an entrance into one of the many housing developments that sprout overnight along all roads with any traffic. NE 112^th has chewed up only a few hundred yards of farmland so far. I come quickly to its end and three left turns and then a right put me quickly back on 291, having passed dozens of young men working on their tan and putting up houses.

The shoulder narrows again at NE 108^th. I turn right. Over hills and I-435 to Hardesty and a left turn at this last street before 108^th dead ends. Hardesty brings me circuitously past farmland and an emerging planned community to Topping, running parallel to 435. Topping brings me back to 96^th. I’m back where I started. My unseen map-maker has done it again. How it happens is a mystery to me. But that it will happen every time I’m out on my bike is a thing I count on as surely as any in my life.

I’m still eight or nine miles from home. In the insulated bag behind my seat, my three water bottles have stayed icy cold all day. But I’ve drunk them dry. Three weeks ago at the north edge of Liberty on 291, Sonic, America’s Drive In, opened. I guzzle giant cherry limeade. Then pour the rest in my bottle. I stop on Liberty’s courthouse square. Park my bike. Take a seat on a bench across from Bradford’s Antiques. Pull out my bottled cherry limeade. Stretch out my legs. And survey my town as I finish my drink.

I’m at 4905 miles now on this Friday. I’ll be at 5000 on Monday
Richmond Accepts June 30 Miles 4950-5030
Jerry McCarter isn’t in when I arrive. I’ve come to ask him to lunch at the Old Towne Restaurant. Jerry’s Chamber of Commerce office is on the east side of Richmond’s town square. Old Towne is on the north side. Jerry comes momentarily. Just before noon we are seated and ready to order. “Jerry, I need your advice. I want to ask someone in Richmond to accept the Greater Liberty Challenge. I have someone in mind. He used to be a member of the board for William Jewell. His daughter goes to my church. He’s a businessman and farmer here in Richmond. His name is Ray Gill.”

“Ray would be my choice. Let’s call him and invite him to lunch,” Jerry says. Jerry takes out his cell phone and has Ray on the line in seconds. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” Ray says. Ray has hardly seated himself when I begin. “Ray, I’m riding my bike 10,000 miles this year to raise $110,000 for MS and HateBusters. A Liberty businessman donated one thousand dollars and challenged other business leaders in other towns to match his gift. I’m here to ask you for a thousand dollars.”

With no hesitation at all, Ray says, “Come by my office after lunch and pick up the check.”