The Rose Parade Miles 0-10 January 1

The Rose Parade Miles 0-10 January 1

Bobbie and I have bleacher seats at about the halfway point of the two-hour parade. Sweeping into view from our right at about 9:30 come the grand marshals of the Rose Parade, Bill Cosby and Art Linkletter. The floats are breathtaking. Thousands of live flowers, in colors and shapes that would amaze and delight even Ebenezer Scrooge. For years Bobbie has watched the Rose Parade on TV and longed to see it in person. We can’t quite believe that at last we are really here. We went yesterday to the big barn where several floats were being assembled and were awed by the flowers and the ingenuity that filled the place.

When the parade is over, we grab one of the many free buses and get off at the beach. The two of us rent a bicycle surrey, and sitting side by side on a metal couch beneath a metal awning, we pedal along the bike path that runs the length of the beach. To come from Missouri in January and ride along a California beach is not something two little kids growing up in little Texas towns ever expected to do.

Our time in paradise is too short. A superb seafood lunch at a restaurant along the beach. Wandering through enticing little shops, a harbor cruise, a walk though a gigantic, awe inspiring aquarium and stopping the bicycle to linger longer at a picturesque spot. Then we must be back at our hotel to join those we have come with.

The longest journey begins with the smallest step. That this proverb has been attributed to people from different cultures testifies to the universal recognition that even the tiniest movement in the desired direction is to be celebrated. Only 10 of the 10,000 miles I have pledged to ride my bicycle do I accomplish here along this California beach. But I think no journey ever had a more auspicious launch. This morning the Rose Parade. Tomorrow Adventure Land, the new section of Disneyland. And between the two, 10 miles of bicycle heaven.

The Mill Inn Miles 10-50 January 4

Breakfast at the Mill Inn. One of the great joys of coming quietly into small towns on my bicycle is the discovery of these outposts of rural ambrosia: biscuits and gravy, short stacks with sausage, home-made pie with mountains of meringue, warm cinnamon rolls with melted butter. Hardly the fare of world-class bikers, but certainly the comfort food of choice for those who remember their mother’s kitchen.

My great sadness after years of riding is the long list of obituaries: Mary’s Kitchen in Richmond, The Northside Café in Lathrop, Rosie’s in Holt, The Country Crockery Inn in Mosby. And the list goes on. Now Kay Stewart tells me that Mill Inn is on life support. “If we charge more, people won’t come. If we don’t, we can’t pay to get help.”

For 10 years Kay waited tables at the truck stop in Kearney. When her husband, Charlie, got sick, Kay needed to be nearer, so she took a job at Mill Inn in Excelsior Springs. She would come in early, work hard, go home to check on Charlie, come back, work hard, go again to see about Charlie, then come back to close up.

Charlie died. Kay had a heart by-pass. Three weeks she was off work. Customers called to see about her. Some sent money. Back at work, Kay couldn’t lift. The walking helped. Being here helped more. The widow who owns Mill Inn fell ill. Kay became manager. Seven days a week now she is here. Only on Christmas Eve can she get off to go to the church near her home. So the pastor and some of the members drop by the restaurant to see how she is.

Some 30 people work here. “They all know we won’t fire them,” Kay says. “We need them more than they need us. They know we know they can make more money at McDonald’s or up the street at The Elms. This is the only place I ever worked where you won’t get fired if you don’t show up. We don’t fire anybody.”

If one of the regular customers doesn’t come in for three or four days, someone from Mill Inn will call to see about them. The local funeral home sometimes calls to report that a customer has died. Waitresses give money to down-and-out regulars.

The demise of small town cafes doesn’t seem an urgent problem. No candidate for national office has a platform plank to address the issue. But something precious lives in these places where people come for home cooking and the feeling of home. With their passing, things simple and decent recede. Our communities and our country are in no ways better when their numbers are fewer. Were any leader to emerge with a plan to rescue small town cafes, they might have turned a key to keep our national character as we picture it in Fourth of July speeches and Norman Rockwell paintings

Behind Already Miles 85-145 January 8

Only a week into the new year, and I’m behind already. Two hundred miles every week I need to ride if I’m to make my 10,000 by year’s end. Here it is January 8 and I’ve put in 145. The weather’s been like spring. Today’s high is a forecast 68. It’s in the 30s when I leave home and I’m wearing four layers. I pedal out to Chandler Baptist Church where Rich Groves is waiting. By a circuitous country route we arrive at the Mill Inn about 9:15 for biscuits and gravy. Manager Kay Stewart pours our coffee. I reach for a menu and knock Rich’s coffee in his lap. Lucky he’s wearing his water proof suit against the morning chill. Offers protection also against hot coffee.

We’re due in Lawson at Catrick’s Café at 11 to meet Marvin Wright. So we forgo our usual short stack which customarily follows the biscuits and gravy. Out of Excelsior along Salem Road we turn right just past Salem Church. Rich had seen on a map that Ray County Line Road runs parallel to Salem. We’re always looking for new roads. But we wind up on Ash and Oak and other roads that are aesthetically pleasing but cannot bring us to Lawson. Back to Salem road just beside the church we come after half an hour. And I place my third call of the morning to Marvin to rearrange our meeting time.

As we dismount our bikes in front of Catrick’s about 11:20, Marvin comes from across the street where he has been to visit another banker. Since retiring as a teacher, Marvin had tried his hand at a variety of jobs. For the past year he has been helping a new bank establish itself. I’ve been anxious for Marvin and Rich to meet. I’ve been telling each of them about the other for some time. I tell Rich that Marvin was the first person I told about my plans to ride across the county back in 1987. I tell Marvin that Rich is my bike riding buddy. Now they will know each other. All’s right this day with my world.

Back at the Mill Inn over breakfast I had shown the Mickey Card to Rich. Now over lunch at Catrick’s, I show it to Marvin. I just had 2000 of the cards printed at RC Printing in Liberty. The front of the card is a full color picture of the Mickey Mouse Trophy Disneyland gave me when I arrived there after my cross-country ride. The back of the card explains the audacious plan I have devised for the year 2003. This is what it says:

I’m an old man. I was diagnosed years ago with Multiple Sclerosis. Since 1986, I have ridden the MS-150, a 150-mile, two-day bicycle ride to raise money for MS. Since 1988, I have taken HateBusters to places across America. I have convinced myself that bike riding is the only medicine I need to hold off the ravages of MS. I have also convinced myself that connecting people across racial and religious lines is the purpose for my life. Therefore I have dreamed up an impossible project that combines bike riding and busting hate. I will ride the MS-HB-10,000. Ten thousand miles on my bike. My goal is to raise $100,000 in pledges to the MS Society and $10,000 for HateBusters. To contribute to MS, make checks to MS-10,000, Box 442, Liberty, MO 64069. To contribute to HateBusters, make checks to HB-10,000 : Box 442, Liberty, MO 64069. All gifts are tax deductible.

I gave 10 Mickey cards to Rich. Now I give 10 to Marvin. I ask them to put them on their desks at work and to give one to every person who sees Mickey’s picture and asks about it. I plan to carry the cards with me all the time as I ride and to ask everyone I meet if they will take ten cards and pass them around to people who see them and express an interest. I don’t really know how many miles I will have ridden by year’s end or how much money I will have raised for Multiple Sclerosis and HateBusters. I may fall short of all my goals. But it won’t be for lack of trying.

From Lawson, Rich and I pedal to Watkins Mill and round the lake on the bike path. Then back by little used roads past farms and cows and ponds. One road has been recently graveled on the side we need to ride. Loose gravel and skinny tires make steering impossible and falls likely, so I ride the wrong side, staining to hear cars approaching over every hill. None come. Life is good.

At different times through out the day, I have stripped off layers of clothes. By 1:30, somewhere on a country road, I am down to T-shirt and shorts. In January! In Missouri! By 3 PM I am home. Sixty miles today on my bike.

Another wonderful day in Greater Liberty.

Download 0.51 Mb.

Share with your friends: