Day 17, the kind of perfect day that will go unremembered

I am in Centerville at the local malt shop/diner. It is opposite the Sheriff's office and the town hall. I will sleep between these two buildings as the people of Centerville have kindly invited me to. Now, how to shower using the Sheriff's sink. I am trying to get as much of my naked body into the shallow bowl. It's not working.

I am in Missouri, the show-me-state.

Missouri completes my brief spell with Mississippi flat land. Fun fact: Mark Twain was born in Hannibal, Missouri. Fun fact: the human head weighs eight pounds.

This was originally a French colony. There are historic French colonial homes and a couple of wineries that probably have very little to do with the early French traders.

I left Chester, hung a right by the statue of Olive Oil, breezed past Bluto or whatever his name was, and took a left past the Popeye statue to get over the river. Once in Missouri I noticed the birds were happier and that everyone drives Mack trucks. It's just the thing to do.

Less than fun event: a young Missouran deliberately veered from his lane to see if he could get as close as possible to me. What the French! I hope his date was impressed and that he gets the handjob of his short life in that little car, before a vehicle larger than his decides to run him over so that its driver can impress its date.

A bit of statistics here. I have seen close to a hundred thousand cars pass my by. Not even factoring in waves, smiles, and warm nods, a hundred-thousand-to-one are strong odds to suggest that we are good to each other here in America. That this event -- because it was an event or anomaly -- is more memorable does not mean it is equal. I believe you can learn more from an individual case any day and, yes, 90% of figures can be made to say whatever you want; but I want to stress the numbers just this once. After all, they say what I want them to.

I have a hard day ahead of me and then it's nearly flat tills the Rockies. As a reward, I have the Horse Creek Inn. I have already been given two wooden pogs redeemable for free beer; sadly, I'm not drinking, but I am buying!

Some words to live by from FBI agent Dale Cooper:

"Every day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it, just let it happen. It could be tickets to a game [?] or two hot cups of coffee."

Day 16

Here's something to add to the old resume: capable of conversing while complete stranger enters bedroom and defecates in corner.

I actually spent a lovely night in the men's room. I used a 3 foot bench and a shower stall to hang myself on like a suspension bridge. My legs were elevated and pressed against the wall and this could be why I felt so great.

After a couple of conversations with cowboys about the rain and cycling and whether the horses got spooked, I packed up and hit the mess hall. Martha runs the place, makes tremendous biscuits and coffee, and did a great job decorating. They've got IQ tests on the table and I scored 110. I talked with the cowboys, listened to good, classic country, and talked across the room to a woman who was itching to ride the River to River trail, but couldn't tell if it was going to be too muddy. I complemented Martha on her restroom and then moseyed on out.

I moseyed into Scoth. I was glad to see him as I was convinced he'd drowned. Obviously he hadn't, but he was really tired. We rode to Goreville together, I got him an introduction to a cute vegetarian waitress --

G: He's a great guy, but he's a vegetarian. Isn't that weird?
A: Why would that be weird. I'm a vegetarian.
G: You'll love him. I'll go find him

-- and then I biked out. I biked to my heart's content, met up with an elder gentleman from Cali on his way East, and then made it to the Wal-Mart Supercenter.

I will allow you your opinions on anything, but you are wrong if say you don't like Wal-Mart. You're not comparing it to the right thing. Think of how much choice and value it offers the country resident whose other alternatives are General Dollar or the canned foods at the gas station. I bought 25 Cliff Bars, organic rice-a-roni, Gatorade powder, too much junk, and a two foot long turkey sandwich for 4 bucks. Think of the time and carbon saved in being able to buy a Hannah Montana lunchbox, worms, your medicine, and watermelons at the same place.

I weighed twice as much heading out to Chester. I couldn't sit upright because the foot long would poke me in the adam's apple. I got lost in the Mississippi levee and saw nothing but one aeroplane for miles

A note on terror. Hitchcock was onto something in North by Northwest. Terror isn't shadows and darkened alleys. You can hide in those. Terror is blinding sunlight in a field so big you can't orient yourself. Now add the whirring sound of a vicious river.

The old Miss is brown and smells brown. It moves at a million miles an hour and would drag you under and eat you without thinking twice. Sometimes it floods.

Not today, which is why I am in friendly Chester -- Home of Popeye. More on that to come tomorrow I'm sure.