87 Day 6 Wa to In Otterville is Tractor Heaven

Do you know who loves tractors? Too Much. 

Do you know who loves ragby? Too Much. 

We arrived in Otterville after the glories of Amish farmsteads and the dangers of crack-kills roads. We found a "town" that was no really a town, unless you count tractors as citizens. It was more just a jog in the road, a farm house, some beer for sale and bunch of tractors. 

The guy loves his tractors.

We stopped, ditch the bikes in a weedy ditch, and then got our beer and did some hanging. Conditions were not great. The grass was tough, the sky was gray, but do you know who was having the best time ever? 

Too Much.

Just a word on Too Much. He is awesome. 

I met Too Much on a backpacking trip. He'd been alone on the Superior Hiking Trail for a week, and he shared our campsite and our booze and lots of great conversation. Too Much was using his bike to shuttle himself back to his car and he made is own alcohol stove out of a can of potted meat. I love this guy.

Since then, we've been friends, at a distance. He's very busy and very fabulous, but when we had the chance, we've had some fun together, in Minnesota and in Amsterdam. 

Too Much took to ragby like a beaver to water. To say that he was a good rookie would be an understatement. To say that he was a great rookie would be an understatement. If you took all the ragby goodness of the top 50 best ragbiers of all time and blended them into a smoothie of fun and awesome, Too Much would still transcend that. 

He delighted us all with his jokes, his enthusiasm, his willingness to slip-n-slide, his round-buying, and his can-do spirit. Whatever drugs he's on, I want them.

We are just so lucky to have Too Much on the team. He's promised a blog of his own, but I wanted to spend a bit of time in Otterville paying tribute to this new beaver. Is Too Much a beaver, because dam! 

Different day, but still tractors. 

Anyway, we drank our beers and milled around and Too Much took pictures of himself with tractors. He's got the perfect arm-length for selfies. And, then, eventually, we mosied back to the bikes for the short 4 miles into Independence.