70 Day 5 Mason City to Waverly: Riders on the Storm

Only 13 miles to go!

In Clinkersville, we were ready to party, and Clinkersville seemed ready to have us. We stashed the bikes in a back yard and joined the party on the main street. The DJ was kicking the jams and all the cool kids were dancing up a storm. I high fived my pals from the Alan Jackson Cycling Team, and then I pretty much made Jake into my periscope. He's very, very tall. And, I am not, so I would just ask for reports of what was going on in the throng. 

Then, I noticed something funny. On his wrist. 

He has a wrist band....

Jake, who does not seem like the kind of guy who "registers" like a nerd, was wearing a wristband. But, it wasn't the same color as ours, bright yellow. I asked him if it was a day pass. "No," he said, for he is a man of few words. And then he explained that he finds wrist bands on the side of the road and collects them, then he just picks the one that is closest to the color of the year, and tapes it on. This one was from like 2007 or something. Ingenious!

If you need a lawyer.

Anyway, there was much dancing, and merry making. Too Much, as usual was owning this ragby-party, dancing, making friends, and keeping his jersey zipped all the way up. Sun protection is everyone's business.

The Man Took to Ragby Like a Beaver to Wood

But, there was a problem. There was a huge storm coming, it was building in the west. Huge gray clouds were massing over downtown Clinkersville. Before we were ready to roll, the DJ announced that the troopers were closing things down because they wanted everyone to get on the road before the storm hit. So, that added a bit of stress to the whole afternoon.

Captain American did get to have his moment though.

So, we heeded the warnings and hopped on our bikes, after some discrete alley urination. The nice thing about our impending doom was that the wind was at our backs. The route was curvy and gorgeous and we met a lone Team Awesomeness rider who had been abandoned by his team. 

The route into Waverly had some hillage and the skies were gray. The whole thing was not ideal, but we rode on and eventually found our way into town. As we rode up the last hill, I heard some guy explaining to his virgin girlfriend about the "last hill guy" and there he was! Huzzah. 

As we entered town, I looked over and realized I was riding next to a legend. A wizened old man, wearing a back pack and riding an overloaded mountain bike/workshop was standing as we rode into town. Which was kind of funny because it wasn't really that hilly. Then, I realized who it was: "You are Bareback Mike!" I yelled at him. "You had rim tape and saved my boyfriend last year! You are a legend!"

It turns out that his name is not Bareback Mike, but something more banal like Tom, and he just really liked to help people. He has no saddle because he carries a full-size floor pump (because that makes complete sense). Then he told me about helping someone who had a bent frame and hooking them up with a farmer who welded it for him, or something. I don't know. It was a delight to see him. 

Waverly was a hot mess. The route came in on a busy street through town and there were cars and bikes all over the place. We found our way to gas station, where I am pretty sure that Too Much bought us a half-rack, and there was some beaver bickering  (can't remember about what), and then Jake darts off across the street, as graceful as a young elk. Where the hell was he going? 

Oh, yeah, he takes pictures of fall out shelter signs. Ah-ha. 

Eventually, a nice police officer asked us to wrap it up with public drinking and we rode up the busy street towards our home stay, a big house with a huge yard on a busy street. 

There we found the Deb. And, boy, was she having a good time.