106 Day 7 Ind to Gut: The Garber Gather

I thumped into Garber on my gimpy, untrue wheel and walked my sad Mad One to the Bike World tent and got in line. No, I would not suck it up and ride my untrue wheel into Guttenberg. I wanted this bad boy fixed before I made anymore madcap descents to the river. 

In the past, I had avoided ragbrai bike repair like the plague. I just assumed it would be the worst thing ever. Mechanics, as a rule (Steve L you are the exception to this) are in general a) grumpy and b) terrifying and c) pretty much sure you, bike rider, are an idiot. Add high temperatures, long lines, crabby ragbrai riders, sleeping in a truck, and heavy substance use to the mix and, I imagined, the ragbrai mechanics would be the scariest thing ever. And, any repairs on ragby would cost 50 billion dollars. 

Not so. On day 1, way back in Hull, that gorgeous surfer-mechanic not only helped me in a friendly and inexpensive way to disentangle my bent deraillieur, but he also gave me a hug. Thank you Rasmussen's. And, remember way back in Storm Lake, when that super nice guy hooked me up with a lunch-time handlebar adjustment? (That wasn't technically on ragbrai, but still). I had had some very encounters with mechanics. So had Too Much for that matter. I guess it doesn't hurt that they get to spend the whole week outside and make some pretty good cash $$.

So I was feeling okay about standing in line. I was over feeling guilty about holding the rest of the team up. They weren't staying with me because they had to. They were hanging around, chatting me up in line because they like me, love me even, and would prefer to wait with me in a mechanic line, rather than riding on without me. And, that was nice to think.

Of course, Steven was happy to wait in line with me for one additional reasons. The mechanics on this particular day were way too cute. Bearded, smiley, hunky, charming dudes in their twenties, and even better, brothers. Me-ow. This wouldn't be the last time we would oogle at least one of these very helpful young men. 

So while beardy one trued my wheel (and my heart), we stood around making jokes and yukking it up with Steve and Leeann and the mechanics and other folks in line. With just 12 miles to go to the end of ragbrai, no one seemed all that stressed or unhappy. 

And, I mentioned to the hunky mechanic that not only was the guy from Rasmussen's on Day 1 super friendly, but he even gave me a hug, beardy #1, not to be out done, also offered a departing-post-wheel-truing hug. 

I accept. (I swear that I didn't tell the story about Surfer-Mechanic to suggest I get another hug. I was just making conversation, though, I reserve the right to make that ploy in the future.)

Anyway, wheel trued, and snacks begathered, we had an important decision to make. There was a bar in this town, but it was at the bottom of a steep little hill, which was even lower than the route which was headed up a not-so-steep but long hill. 

Did we want to go to the bar and have a penultimate beer, if that meant we would have to slug back up that little hill before climbing up the bigger hills.

If you don't know the answer by now, I can only assume you just started reading this blog. Today.