Oma’s Kitchen Miles 5115-5180 July 2

Oma’s Kitchen Miles 5115-5180 July 2

Richfield Road to Lancaster Road to Hwy 69 to Rhodus Road to 140^th to Cameron Road to 144^th, which quickly becomes Schoolfield and crosses a wooden bridge. Schoolfield becomes 150^th and leads to Old Quarry Road. Old Quarry to RA to 162^nd, which becomes Clevenger and then Endsley and brings me to Baxter, in front of the same house where I sat to drink and rest just a few days ago. Baxter brings me to MM and Old BB. Just before BB comes Adrenaline Hill, smooth, straight and steep. I let ‘er go.

Oma’s Kitchen in Kearney is not on my short list. I’ve tried it three times and wasn’t impressed. Rich Groves told me I should try it again. He liked it. I order Ruth’s Club Sandwich. Superb! The tomatoes are red and juicy. And taste like tomatoes. I’ll be back. Something has changed. I have to find out what.
Missouri City Air Hose Miles 5180-5255 j July 3
I’m riding my blue bike this morning. It’s my backup bike. If my red one is working, the blue one hangs from my garage ceiling. For the past few days, I’ve nursed a slow leak in the front tire. This morning it’s flat. So when Rich and I rendezvous at the corner of Natchez and Southview Drive, I’m riding blue.

Across 291 Highway and onto Liberty Landing Road toward Liberty Bend Fish Market. Something’s wrong! The rear wheel rides rough, jarring at every bump. I pinch the tire. Seems OK. Rich is riding ahead when we pass Missouri City School. He can’t hear when I yell, “Hey, Rich, I’ve got a flat.” I’m fumbling in my panniers for a spare tube and a tire tool when he returns. I’m sweating buckets when I get the tire changed and force a little air inside with the tiny pump I carry.

The tire’s not flat now, But it’s far from the 120 lbs. I need to roll the way I should. Orrick, eight miles up the road, has two service stations. My best bet. Then I remember the single gas pump back on the eastern edge of Missouri City. It usually has had an OPEN sign when I’ve ridden past, though I seldom see any people about. Most of the time the building seems deserted.

“Let’s ride back and check out that service station, Rich.” It’s closed. No sign of life. But Rich spots an air hose. It’s live! Some Good Samaritan has left it hooked up to an unseen generator. Rich has a gauge. Bikers are advised never to use air hoses. The tiny tires we run fill instantly under high pressure and the tire can blow. I apply the hose in qucik bursts, checking the pressure each time. I stop at 100.

Rich is due back home. I’m bound for Richmond. Another 75 mile today, taking me to 10,000. Al Plummer bought miles 5200-5204. He rode in spirit with me out of Orrick toward Fleming.

Sarah’s Table Miles 5256-5275 July 4

Oma’s Kitchen is about to become Sarah’s Table. And Kearney will reacquire the culinary crown it surrendered when Clem’s closed. Hundreds of times over more than a decade I biked the 25-mile round trip to Clem’s on a Saturday morning for breakfast. A half-order of biscuits and gravy. Every time superb! I made friends I never saw except at Clem’s. The Lutheran Bunch always sat at the table for eight in the no-smoking section. Sometimes they asked me to join them.

Then one day Clem’s closed. No warning. No good byes. And I biked to other towns for breakfast. Excelsior Spring’s Mill Inn, Lawson’s Catrick’s Restaurant. When Oma’s Kitchen opened in Kearney, I tried it. They didn’t do biscuits and gravy right. Rather than rustic, the old house looked unkept. I told my biking buddies I didn’t like it.

One recent day, Rich said I should try it again. He had been there. And liked it. Then I found myself right at noon in Kearney, 60 miles into a ride on a sweltering July day. None of the recently opened chain eateries beaconed me. OK Rich. Oma’s one more time.

Ruth’s Club Sandwich! Red juicy tomatoes. Sourdough bread. Crisp bacon. Turkey and ham piled so high I can’t get my mouth around it. Maybe Rich is onto something.

Today’s the Fourth of July. I’m back. Rich, Dale Ahle and I left our cars at the now closed Blue Light Station at 69 and 33 highways in Liberty. East on 69 to Rhodus Road to 140^th. Left to Jesse James Road to downtown Kearney and Oma’s. The biscuits and gravy today are world class. “I’m sorry, Rich. I seriously misjudged this place.”

Then I’m at the counter to pay the bill. “I’m the mother of the new owner,” says the friendly cashier.

“New owner? When?”

“This May. And soon we’ll be Sarah’s Table.”

Mystery solved, Rich. You and I came to a different Oma’s Kitchen. We’ll be coming often to Sarah’s Table. If only the Lutheran Bunch would stake out a table. I’ll email Charlie Kueck and suggest it.

Sarah is a full-time cataloger for the Mid-Continent Library system. Husband Carl is a meat cutter for an area grocery. They’ve never owned a restaurant, but when they heard Oma’s Kitchen was for sale they fulfilled a long-time dream. Tammy, Sarah and Carl are now equal owners. “We have great help. Carl and I will keep our other jobs for now. I’ll be here on weekends. Later, we’ll see.” Sarah tells me this when I ask how she can maintain the hours posted on the door: Monday thru Wednesday, 5:30 AM to 4 PM Thursday, Friday and Saturday, 5:30 to 8 PM and 5:30 to 3 PM on .Sunday.

The Churchyard Dog Miles 5335-5420 July 7

I won’t be going to that church again anytime soon. It was before 10 in the morning and already I was looking for shade. The marquee in front of the Methodist Church in Camden welcomed me and the shade by the door invited me. Two dogs stood in front of the house next door. My feet touched the ground. The big black dog hurtled toward me with teeth bared. I jerked me leg back just in time. His teeth left a long red mark across the back of my calf. I twirled the bicycle in a frantic circle to keep him off me .I grabbed a rock. About the size of the one David used on Goliath I imagined. I hoped for similar results. I missed. That dog chased me as I flew down the hill.

The day began better. I saw Louie in Missouri City. Louie Wohletz rides Old 210 regularly. I see him often. “Ed, you got a haircut,” he says. “Yesterday. Bobbie cut it. Brian’s new family has come to town. I didn’t want to embarrass him.”

Coming toward me before I come to Orrick I spot a biker, panniers front and rear. I cross the road to wait. Dick Nye is about my age. He left Yorktown, Virginia 1700 miles ago to follow the Lewis and Clark Trail. “This heat beat me. I’m hangin’ it up. I’ll get to Smithville today. My wife’s on the internet trying to find me a ticket.”

South Point Cemetery stretches up the hill to my left as I roll past on Highway T. My eyes are drawn right, to the fields of seven foot corn that stretch far down the road and far into the distance. The soft brown tassels atop every stalk wave gently in the breeze. The stalks are arrow straight and brilliant green.

“Would you like a bottle of cold water?” The question comes from a young man walking toward me in the street. “I saw you lying down on the porch at the bakery.” Lewis Long will be a senior at Richmond High School this fall. He lives in Rayville, in the house I have just passed. He introduces me to his dad. Vane Long lived on 23^rd Street in Kansas City. Lewis was born in Oregon. Vane moved to Rayville 17 years ago so his son and daughter could grow up around family. He drives the 28 miles to work at Ford in Claycomo.

Thanks to all of you who buy the miles. Thinking about you makes the time pass faster and better. And cooler. Glad that dog didn’t see you.

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