On 7/6/1982, Larry and I said our goodbyes and, after one last stack of waffles, I started my tour again. At the Center Hill Lake Overlook I talked to a family traveling in a Winnebago. This was a fairly common occurrence, but what made it unusual is that THEY wanted to take a picture of ME instead of the other way around. They also gave me an ice cold Coke, which was very much appreciated.

I arrived in Smithville (pop 3,839) and bought a Pepsi, then backtracked on Highway 56 trying to find a decent place to eat but didn’t have any luck, so I just bought a peach and some dates from a roadside vendor. I asked about a good place to eat and was directed to Burger Shake and pulled in about 11:00, by which time it was already hot. 

There were some picnic tables in the shade of some trees on the side of the cafe and I sat there for a while, slowly eating my hamburger. While I was postponing the inevitability of climbing back on the bike, a guy on a tractor pulled up. He asked the usual questions and we talked for half an hour as I watched a couple of preteens playing cup ball behind the store. 

Just as I was deciding it was about time for me to leave, the owner of the Burger Shake brought out a double cheeseburger and a Pepsi, and announced “We wanted you to have this.” 

I really wanted me to have this, too, and she didn’t even interview me for the local paper. 

About the time I finished, the wind picked up dramatically and the temperature dropped very suddenly, as it tends to do prior to a heavy rain. I looked down the road and noted the dark, billowing thunderheads streaming closer. I’d been in Smithville longer than I’d intended, and needed to put in more miles, but resigned myself to staying a little longer. There are worse places.

An hour later, after completing a letter to a friend, it still hadn’t rained and the sky was clearing, so I started riding. The ground was wet near McMinnville (pop 10,683), twenty miles later, but I never saw a drop fall from the sky.

In Viola (pop 149) I bought my dinner, which consisted of a package of Vienna sausages (to be placed on bread), an RC Cola, and a Susie Cake roll. Ronnie, the store’s owner, recommended the park a half mile back as a good camping spot, so I rode back and set up camp. There were a couple of men playing cards on the porch of the house across the street. 

Later in the evening, when I was hearing voices drifting across the park, I realized it was those men and not someone intent on bodily harm. Still, it caused a bit of uncomfortable déjà vu. 

As I listened to Van Morrison in my tent I acknowledged that he’s good, but found he wasn’t really who I wanted to listen to tonight.

Heart

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