R16 15 Jessie James and Snacky Snack Time

Not far, right? 

We pulled out of Adair very well hydrated and hopped back onto the road. We didn't have far to go and random gas station guy told us it would be great. I had high hopes. Steven pulled off into a nice corn field that had a paved drive way running right into the field. I had the stereo blasting and I felt pretty good. We were almost done! 

That's a big wheel. 

We zoomed over the interstate, trying to get the truckers to honk. White Pole Road swung south and west. It wasn't long before I came to the drive way of the "First Train Robbery in the West"--Anita's claim to fame! Jesse James, they said, robbed a train here and then hid out all over southern Iowa. Jesse James is one of those magical figures that even though he was a criminal everyone claims that he stayed or ate or robbed one of the local establishments. 

Steven arrives--the last time I'd be in front

I waited for Steven and took some victory pictures. 

Why are we still smiling? 

It was soo ungodly hot. Did I mention that? 

Just waiting for a mustashioed man

And then we went back into the inferno. The wind wasn't bad, but it was blowing out of the south west. And the sun was starting to descend, so it was right in front of us. Uuuggghhh. The suck was biblical. 

Steven disappeared across the horizon, and I looked up the hills to the north, looking for signs of the family homestead, which would be the farm before the farm where we'd be staying at Uncle Al and Aunt Viney's. We did eventually get there. And there was up the top of a long, long, gravel driveway. I made it about two-thirds of the way up before I dumped the bike and started pushing. Steven, the beast, cranked away up the gravel and made it to the top where Viney was waiting for us. 

We put the bikes in the garage, which was not windy, but the temperature of a rubber-scented sauna. We took off our shoes and stumbled into the house. 

And there: bicyclist heaven--Viney had laid out a kitchen island full of snacks--crackers, cheese, summer sausage, grapes, cookies, and M&Ms. Cold Coca-colas. Steven's eyes grew about three sizes and the frenzy began. Steven started stuffing her mouth full of crackers. And cheese. And M&Ms. I'd glance at her between sips of waters and reasonable bites of my own and her cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk. 

My sweat Aunt Viney kept asking her question, "So, [Steven], that's an interesting name. Where does it come from?" 

We'd both look expectantly at Steven. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of us. But with her mouth full, she couldn't answer. I'd turn back to Viney and explain where Steven's name came from. 

Later it happened again, "And, Steven, you are a teacher?" 

We both looked at Steven. Mouth still full. I responded, explain Steven's career path. 

It was like translating. Only, I was translating hangry Steven into human speak. The moment was hilarious, and it reminded me of what a long, strange journey Steven and I have been on since we met in high school, and how glad I was to be a good enough friend to her that I could answer all her life question stories. 

Eventually, sated for a minute, Steven came up for air and did a bit of talking herself. We excused ourselves to the basement where we each had our own rooms. Steven took the Snoopy suite. I got the serenity suite and we started a load of laundry and got in the shower. 

Fresh and clean we returned upstairs for dinner. Viney is a great cook. She prepared pork, potatoes, bread and butter, and a bit yummy ice box pie for dinner. Al was still out, but we tucked into a big dinner around the island. Viney had just gotten back from a trip to Alaska and Ireland (separate) so we swapped stories. 

Over dinner, we decided that we shouldn't try to camp the next evening. We had brought 2 tents, but the idea of trying to sleep in this baking heat was ridiculous. It just wouldn't happen. So we started investigating where we could find a hotel. We could go to Red Oak, like the RM, but Viney warned that it was a bit sketchy, like druggy. So, we looked elsewhere. I knew there was a b&b in Oakland, with a log cabin inside! and that was closer to where we were headed. 

So we called to see if they had an opening. 

Of course this conversation had to happen on the floor in the living room, where Steven's phone was plugged in. And after a long, rambling conversation, with lots of questions and reassurances to the proprietor, we booked a room, and maybe, maybe! had a ride out to the b&b, which was 6 miles out of Oakland on gravel....

After that we were off to bed. Big beds. Quiet rooms. Cold air conditioning. As I pulled throw pillows off the bed, I could hear Steven through the walls, talking to her family, and it made me feel happy. Happy because I could hear how much she loved her husband, even through the muffling of the walls. Happy and exhausted. 

And scared.