June 18, 2022
Schizophrenia
More moral dilemmas - -
Should I accept a ride out of Boise? Yes.
Gee, I didn't take long to decide that.
It's because there is no good route east out of Boise.
So Stan and I got up super early
and drove out past Mountain Home.
Up a steep grade - because I lost the downhill in Oregon.
Which rebalances the moral equation.
Stan couldn't believe that I would start in the middle of nowhere -
but I was perfectly happy - and itching to get on the road.
Especially because it was sunny, cool, with a light tailwind.
We said out goodbyes and had a last hug.
Then it was off - well, not exactly.
Because I had a couple of big ridges to climb.
All the rain had turned the desert into the fields of Ireland.
And when I finally rode into the Camas Valley it was stunning.
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Fifty miles of green riding, albeit with Sun Valley traffic on a narrow road.
I'm still waiting for that perfect combination of everything day.
And once I get it - I want to keep it forever.
Meanwhile, I guess I'll have to take what I get.
Fairfield had the tiniest courthouse I have ever seen.
Stopped for a burger and fires, a snooze in the shade by the library,
catching up on the journal, and back to the burger barn for an ice cream.
The perfect middday break.
Such was not to continue.
2 or 3 miles out of town, I had a flat.
There was no decent place to get off the road -
So, I walked the bike a mile - thumpa, thumpa, thumpa.
Only to discover that my spare tube had a bad presta valve.
Usually, I like to patch the tire later on in a better location.
But I had no choice - fortunately I had found some shade.
Unfortunately, my micro-pump had lost it's oomph.
It could, maybe, get 25 psi after 1000 pumps.
I managed to get 20+ miles down the road to Wood River campground.
With a low front tire and a killer tailwind.
Thankful for that tailwind.
And then I met Terry. (Name and places changed)
I saw that the person in the next site had a bike on the trailer.
So, I walked over and asked if he had a bike pump.
He did. And my front tire soon had sufficient air.
I also soon recognized the language of schizophrenia.
Don't know whether it is lifelong or meth-induced.
I suspect that he may have had a lower diagnosis that has worsened.
Or course, you would be worse if you lost everything, too.
And were running from the police.
From what I could piece together - and it requires piecing together -
he had been a mechanic in Texas who was dunned by the IRS
and then started bouncing checks with charges exceeding $20 grand.
So the police seized his shop - at gunpoint -
and auctioned off everything he had incuding his house.
It could be all made up -
but the trailer was a top-notch homemade build.
It may be that he had a few errors that snowballed -
and he simply did not have the math or accounting skills to cope.
He kept talking for two hours.
And, yeah. I'm doubly exhausted now.
But help me to understand something.
Isn't it a lot more expensive to hunt down and incarcerate someone
for an IRS underpayment and some bounced checks
than to help them stay above water?
And profoundly wrong?
Today's ride: 68 miles (109 km)
Total: 621 miles (999 km)
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