the best bicycle lock

When I got to the edge of town there was a Y intersection. Both forks looked similar, and there was no signage to tell me which one went to Hillsboro. I hated when this happened, because I could lose HOURS by taking a wrong turn. While I was deciding what to do, I realized I didn’t have any water, so I went back to Ronnie’s store to fill up and just asked him.

Along the way I took a few pictures… some flowers, a hayroll, a scenic overlook. I didn’t take a lot of pictures on this trip mainly because of the cost, but every once in a while EVERYthing seemed photo-worthy.

A hayroll? It looks like a college kid trying to be artistic. I wish I had taken more pictures of the people I met, and the places I stayed.

When I was done with a roll of film I’d mail it home to my parents, not knowing whether it turned out (especially because of the heat) until much later.

While I was at the Winchester (pop 5,821) WalMart (pop >5,821) I asked a shopper where there’s a good, cheap place to eat in town and was directed to Mary’s Grill. I ordered a ham and cheese sandwich, and it was good, but not cheap. These big city high falutin’ restaurants could be costly.

From there I rode to Dairy Queen and ordered a Pepsi. I nursed my drink (now THAT’S an interesting expression and, like the talent show in Missouri, too easy) while writing in my journal. Even though the temperature outside was blazing hot, the temperature inside the DQ was painfully cold. I had to move outside to warm up where I studied my map for a while.

Leaving the DQ I rode to the Jail House Museum. It sounded interesting, but when I walked up to the door I saw a “donations” sign. I couldn't bring myself to tour it without making a donation so I left, never to find out about the secrets the old jail held.

There was a majestic tree on the side of the jail. The base of the trunk and the space between the raised roots were such that it fit my body perfectly, and it provided a perfect place for reading, then a nap.

After being awakened by the tickling of some ants forging their way across my hand, I made my way to the town square and found a drugstore so I could buy more film, but they didn’t have the right ISO. I found another pharmacy nearby, but they didn’t have the right number of exposures. At the third pharmacy, I found what I needed and paid the $3.82 for the 36-exposure roll of film.

As I was leaving town I thought I should use the restroom, so I stopped at the courthouse. Something I haven’t mentioned yet is the bicycle lock I use. The fact is, I didn’t bring one. I read somewhere that “Your eyes are the best bicycle lock,” and it made a lot of sense. I typically traveled through small towns and the risk of getting something stolen was negligible (“Bobby got a new bike today. Looks sorta like that fella’s who got his stolen yesterday”) but in the “larger” towns I felt anxious if my bike was out of my line of sight. When I ate in a cafe, I always leaned it against a wall just below a window, then sat at the table on the other side of that window.

At the courthouse, there wasn’t anywhere to leave my bike so I could see it (plus, how many restrooms have windows?) and eventually leaned against the handrail of the stairs.

I was sure it would be gone when I returned, but my fears were unwarranted - it was still there. At the top of the steps, however, was an angry-looking old man. He stood there, cursing under his breath at me for leaving my bike in the way. It wasn’t even on the stairs or blocking his path at all, but the handlebars were draped over the bottom nine inches of the handrail (which prevented my bike from rolling and falling over). When he was finished mumblecursing, I expected him to add, “And stay off my lawn, ya damn kids!”

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