DAN

2006-11-01T19:22:00.000-07:00

The Ocean

...

2006-10-30T22:32:00.000-07:00

CRITICAL MASS!

2006-10-28T19:20:00.000-06:00

happy halloween

2006-10-27T18:25:00.000-06:00

o00o01

2006-10-27T18:17:00.000-06:00

S.F.

2006-10-27T15:22:00.000-06:00

,

2006-10-25T17:10:00.000-06:00

Utah is a pretty state, at least from what I saw. I stayed with my friend Rich and his boys in a ski resort town called Eden about an hour from SLC. In Eden, they have a golf course, a gas station and a grocery store. Although the lady that works there will tell you different, you can NOT get a wolf shirt in the golf course gift shop or a shirt with a wolf attacking a moose or vice versa. Some days Rich went to work in the city and other days he worked on his manifesto from the safe confines of his remote cabin. I went into the city a few days and found it to be a nice, clean place filled with nice and clean people. Their trains have very clean, comfortable cushioned seating and train fare runs on the honor system. When you go to a bar they either make you purchase a membership for a small fee or sign in which are both stupid rules and when you finally do get in they’ll serve you a crappy Mormon beer which has a 3.2% alcohol content and tastes like air mixed with water. Some homeless youths I spoke to advised me to not drink any water in Salt Lake City because the Mormons have added lead and there is a giant magnet under the Big Mormon temple that will keep you from leaving. I could not substantiate this theory but it was very unusual when I was trying to take a picture of the Temple and my camera became very uncooperative suddenly, pictures coming out scrambled and the camera shutting off for no reason. Frustrated, I sat down at the edge of the pool that contained the reflection of the temple and watched a photographer take pictures of a newlywed couple. After silently negotiating with the local prevailing higher power I was finally able to get my picture. Pretty nice place, Utah.

Turns out it wasn't a wild turkey.

2006-10-25T16:24:00.000-06:00

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6381194&sc=emaf
All Things Considered, October 25, 2006 · Scientists have discovered a skull belonging to a hook-beaked bird that ruled the grasslands of South America. Scientists are calling the bird a "terror bird."

The bird didn't fly because it didn't have to. Instead, it put its biological resources into growing bigger and faster than anything else on the continent. It was the largest bird ever and the top predator in South America millions of years ago.

Paleontologist Luis Chiappe identified the skull –- the largest on record -– in Argentina. He says this carnivorous bird was ferocious.

"This is not like a crocodile," says Chiappe. "This was a warm-blooded, enormous [and] very-active bird. With the size of the skull, imagine the damage that skull could have done just by hitting something."

The bird is a member of the Phorusrhacid family. Chiappe says there were many types of Phorusrhacids in South America after the dinosaurs became extinct.

The bones of large Phorusrhacids are very rare. Scientists assumed that the large species of terror birds were bulky versions of other types of Phorusrhacid.

Chiappe says this skull, along with a slender leg-bone at the site, suggest something bigger -- but also much different.

"We are challenging the traditional view that these birds, as they grew bigger, they became less agile," he says.

Instead, Chiappe's Nature article explains that the terror birds were probably greyhound-quick and would easily be able to apprehend a passing bicyclist.

That quickness gave them an advantage. American Museum of Natural History paleontologist John Flynn notes South America was an island at the time, where animals evolved differently.

"There were very limited numbers of predators," Flynn says. "Most of the mammalian predators [in South America] were a kind of dog and a lion-like marsupial."

Though other large predators existed at the time, none had the speed and agility that are suggested by the terror bird bones. The many grazing animals of South America provided ample prey for the terror birds, who climbed to the top of the food chain.

Flynn says they remind him of their very successful predecessors.

"It's really interesting because they do resemble -- at least in a crude way -- the predatory dinosaurs like the Tyrannosaurus Rex that had gigantic heads, very small forelimbs and very long legs," he says. "They've got that same kind of meat-eater adaptation and they obviously did very well [because] they persisted for tens of millions of years."

The terror birds died out about two million years ago except for a few outside Sioux City, South Dakota, around the time that North and South America merged at the Isthmus of Panama. Flynn notes that climate change could have contributed to the birds' extinction. Or perhaps another predator even more terrible drove the birds to extinction.

o0o

2006-10-24T16:15:00.000-06:00

0110 0110 0111001 1.

2006-10-23T14:27:00.000-06:00

Utah.

2006-10-22T13:25:00.000-06:00

.

2006-10-19T11:05:00.000-06:00

2006-10-18T17:32:00.000-06:00

? You should've seen the guy who took this picture?

2006-10-18T16:05:00.000-06:00

Wyatt Earp's grandson started to come off as an animatronic cowboy programmed with only two or three catchphrases who ran on Budweisers and had escaped an amusement park or carnival; Not quite from the future but certainly not from the past. The other guy, Tom, was a product of Mr.Rogers and Richard Simmons' genes spliced together in possibly the same underground research facility where Mr. Earp was created. They may both be mercenaries in the E.S.F.'s (Elderly of Sioux Falls) employ sent to follow me but I doubt it. They seemed mostly harmless except for the time when I asked Earp's grandson if he had ever had to kill a man and he got real serious, real quick.

Wyatt Earp's Grandson

2006-10-18T15:58:00.000-06:00

That's what he told me and he was wearing a cowboy hat so I guess it must be the truth.

Sioux Falls falls

2006-10-18T15:44:00.000-06:00

Sioux Falls was a very quiet place. In the three hours I spent there I came to these conclusions: 1. The city had been taken over by an army of the super-elderly who had devised some fiendish plot to do something, I don’t think they got to the phase of planning where they decided what they wanted to do ‘cause there wasn’t much going on. 2. They have at least one Burger King where you can get your meal in either medium or large sizes but small was not an option presumably to keep the population sufficiently overweight and docile enough where uprising wouldn’t become a popular option among the enslaved. 3. If you’re going to buy a magazine, and you want to get the most bang for your buck, flip through it before you buy it because it’s a real letdown when you open up a fresh periodical and find it to be full of ads for crap you don’t need or even want and then you’ll probably end up reading the label on your Payday bar which actually is a pretty decent read. That’s it. Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

1110000100011110010100 0001 00100

2006-10-12T11:13:00.000-06:00

At first, they became fast friends and discussed their experiences, comparing and contrasting Yankton and Chicago. Dan's big city air of superiority soon miffed the ever patient Julie. "He'll be out of our hair soon", she thought wistfully as Dan rambled on an on about how big and great he thought Chicago was and how if her and Ben ever came to visit they should call him up and if he was back he would show them around his city.
“What a complete ass. And his clothes are filthy. Doesn’t this pig ever shave, I mean, yesterday he had this string of cheese from something he ate that was like, all hard and hanging from his beard, which you can totally tell he impresses himself with ‘cause he’s always rubbing his chin. I think he just looks like some …idiot.”
“…So then it looked at me and, well, back in the city we just don’t have wild turk…” Continued Dan as Julie struggled to pay attention to the babbling brook of nonsense that bubbled out of his mouth.
“What’s the deal with the stupid wild turkeys he’s alllllllways talking about. I‘ve seen hundreds of wild turkeys and none of ‘em had an “evil” or “cursed” look about ‘em.” She thought. “What a coward. My Grandfather raised wild turkeys and they always behaved like anything else on the farm, cows, sheep. He keeps turning it into a religious thing which is also starting to creep me out. I wish he would just leave, or, better yet, when he goes riding his fancy bike around town I hope he falls and has a terrible accident. That’s what he deserves. He thinks he’s Craig Armstrong or something. I seriously wish he would just leave.”
“…nd then I saw a river with a boat… and a tree that had leaves… and met these people who did this thing… and at the next place there was this-.” She cut him off out loud this time with no small annoyance in her tone as she rubbed her cigarette out under the table, twisting her wrist and pushing up as if she was savagely twisting a knife blade around inside someone’s gut. “You know I should really go back in the office, I have a lot of work to do.” She got up and walked into the office and checked the guest log to see when he would be checking out.

thus far...

2006-10-10T01:33:00.000-06:00

The trip so far has been fun, scary, strange, unexpected and most of all thought-provoking. I've met a lot of good people who act as reminders of my family and friends back home who have been so good to me always, even at times when I really didn't deserve it. Thank you. Your friends and family are all you really have in this world; Life's too short to take your people for granted.
Having said this I hope to God I used that semi-colon properly (I know at least one person who will correct me if I’m wrong) and I suppose I should explain my, at times bewildering, whereabouts during the last few weeks. I rode my bike through some of southeastern South Dakota and quickly grew frustrated at the lack of suitable roads to ride on and to be honest, it got pretty lonely. Riding on a small shoulder spider webbed with cracks while huge semis fly by at well above the limit of seventy, moving faster than Mark Foley and Gary Glitter in a foot race with a young Indonesian boy at the finish line, wasn’t a very good time. I consulted townspeople, bike stores, other bike riders, my maps and the internet (which by the way, my laptop, despite being a dead weight at times, was a great idea to bring with, kind of like having a midget crammed into my bag that doesn’t talk much but knows thousands of songs by heart.) and found as usual the locals were the best and most accurate source for regional info. They mostly told me my goal of the badlands was a little nutty for A. riding by myself in some pretty desolate places and B. It had snowed there earlier in the week and while the weather at the time was tolerable, it was considered unpredictable at best. I don’t mind the cold so much but my skinny tires can’t handle those conditions and quite frankly, my Bicycle, recently renamed Special-ed from good ‘ol Lucky Joe, deserves better. Alright so I realized I had lost my wallet along the way somewhere, very possibly while evading that vicious anomalous seven foot tall wild turkey which by the way now lurks in the filthy swirling oily darkness of my nightmares nowadays, revealing its presence only by a pair of red slits and a fiendish “gobble-gobble” that would shiver your timbers unless you, like millions of others, don’t have timbers in which case you would just be scared. I decided to relax in S.D. for an entire week contemplating my next move and marinating in the town’s juices to really soak up that authentic Yankton flavor which was a pretty decent place with the people to match. Not like Mormon decent, more of just an honest and hardworking decent. Many Mormons are better described as being an eerie hybrid of what I would describe with the title “Nazi super clone-wholesome” as I would later find out.
I awaited my replacement temporary ID from the state of Illinois in the town, growing increasingly impatient and poorer as the week wore on. Especially in the first weeks of the trip, the electric exhilaration of being homeless and unemployed had become something of a monetary aphrodisiac, ridding my wallet of its everyday life inhibitions. Being down and out in the middle of the boondocks had forced me to live a more frugal lifestyle for fear of not making it to California. From kinglike caches of delicious Payday bars and beef jerky, and eating heartily in diners I descended into a world of 10 for 10 frozen dinners, ramen noodles, frozen burritos and even once had an entire meal of samples from the grocery store that consisted of a pretty good artificial crab salad and ham, which I deftly impaled six to seven trial size pieces at a time with toothpicks while nervously eyeing the employees trying to suppress an eruption of spastic laughter from my hungry but jolly gut. One day I was exiting the library and I saw a sign in front of a church that offered a free “banquet” and “All (were) welcome”. I certainly fall into the category all, I figured, and what better way to sneak a glimpse into the inner workings of Yankton than a church function. I went back the night of and enjoyed a meal of savory beef stew with a salad covered in what must’ve been a cross between thousand island and the salty-sweet blood of the cow used in the stew. It was here, surrounded by actual homeless people, sixteen year old hard up teenage mothers that I realized there was a difference between being poor and being broke. Poor is a state of mind, a mental shroud that will hold you back, while broke is a temporary financial state easily overcome with the right attitude and some work. I was definitely nearing broke and ,not to be callous or sound uncaring, being surrounded by the poor and derelict of spirit depressed the shit outta me at the time so I took off without eating all of my post meal artificial vanilla flavored ice cream product.
I spent my days in the library on the internet, writing or reading and enjoying that super tasty, cold water you can only find in libraries for some reason as if they all had secret frosty ultra pure natural springs deep in the earth beneath. My nights consisted of wandering the town talking to folks and sometimes hanging out with Julie and Ben, the nice girl who ran the hotel a few nights a week and her boyfriend...

Thanks for the shot Mr.Dynamite

2006-10-10T01:29:00.000-06:00

2006-10-09T00:28:00.000-06:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gx-NLPH8JeM

Still more Yankton

2006-10-06T10:55:00.000-06:00

mORE yANKTON

2006-10-05T19:31:00.000-06:00

THIS WONT MAKE ANY SENSE TO ANYONE

2006-10-05T18:36:00.000-06:00

Home of Lawrence Welk, Jonny Carson and Tom Brokaw went to high school here

2006-10-05T17:08:00.000-06:00

Yankton, South Dakota

2006-10-05T16:51:00.000-06:00

MELISA

2006-09-28T16:48:00.000-06:00

This is Melisa, a good friend of mine who has been writing the wonderful poetry and Haikus which are greatly appreciated and whose head has been grafted onto some boxes of tea and cigarettes. Thanks Melis, you get a good picture put up.

My Brother Griffy

2006-09-28T16:42:00.000-06:00

One time at Gameworks Griffy kept winning stuff. If we hadn't left when we did, I think they would've asked us to because they woulda ran outta prizes.

Natalie and Vermillion and the Book with No Name

2006-09-28T15:55:00.000-06:00

I arrived in Vermillion, South Dakota early afternoon later that day. The riding there was tough as there are far fewer roads in South Dakota than in Iowa or Nebraska. I believe I was riding on highway 50 which has a seventy mile per hour speed limit and crappy cracked shoulders about a foot wide (this would only get worse I later found). To make matters worse, the wind was blowing against me the whole time. I met an engineer working on transformers that were to be used in surface to air missiles riding to the next town to meet his wife for dinner so I was able to draft him for about ten miles which made things left painful and the conversation was a pleasant change from the monotonous roar of the wind in my ears. When we got there, before he went on his way, he called a friend in town who gave me directions to the local campground which was was convieniently located on the highway that we were already on across the street from the Pamida (kinda like a smaller Walmart). Vermillion is the home of the University of South Dakota so I expected a thriving college town. I cruised through the "downtown" area and saw maybe two people. I stopped to ask the second person, a real nice girl named Natalie, if that was actually the downtown. She quickly surmised that I wasn't from around there and we got to talking. It was refreshing to laugh with someone to calm my nerves which had been severely jarred by the wild turkey "incident" and a touch of homesickness. Her parents were radicals who lived a few miles out of town in a geodesic dome and she stayed in town in a sort of a community house. We walked to her house and went in. There was a cat and a few goldfish who lived there and at least two other dudes who were pretty cool. One of the goldfish kept swimming headfirst into the ground and the other one in the same tank wouldn't leave the corner and they couldn't figure out why. After chatting for a little while we went to the grocery store across from the campground next to the Pamida. She watched my bike while I went in to grab some stuff to grill for dinner. I scored some steaks with yellow and red peppers, one red potato, a red onion, some cheese, tortillas and some beers. We grilled out at the site, which was actually more of an RV park, and had some quality conversation. She was reading this book for a book club she was in and when I asked what it was called she produced the book out of her bag. The top layer of the cover and the back of the book had been removed so she had no idea what the book was called or who wrote it. She had gotten it from somebody she had travelled with. We sat around and ate and bullshitted for a couple of hours until she had to go, she had a welding class early in the morning. I gave her a hug and she went her way. Real cool girl, she'll be alright.

MY BEARD

2006-09-28T15:45:00.000-06:00

Burt Reynoldsesque, no?

Knock Knock, Who's there? Filth and death incarnate

2006-09-28T11:15:00.000-06:00

These pictures were taken overlooking the Sioux River Valley in North Sioux City, South Dakota on a chilly morning after I had just puked up my continental breakfast which for me consisted mainly of french toast and Raisin Bran which generally are pretty tasty breakfast treats but they just didn't sit right after arduous uphill riding. You could see for several miles in the distance and it was really pretty awe-inspiring. You might be wondering, "What kind of tent does Dan have where they serve continental breakfast?", to which all I have to say is a really nice one.
I had just gotten off the phone with my Dad when two lovers pulled their car up behind me at the spot. I decided to let them have their moment or as much of a moment as two lovebirds can have with my brown cinnamony vomit sprayed all over the scenic overlook. To my puke's credit, it was not bad coming up and it looked like the milk left after finishing a bowl of delectable Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I wiped my mouth with the mucus and dirt encrusted sleeve of my North Face Vapor Wick shirt (thanks again Ry.) and slowly rolled down the two lane road into a thick canopy of trees when I noticed a movement to my right. To preface this next segment of my tale I will let you know a few things about myself. I live in what is one of the more violent cities around (per capita) and have no problem riding my bicycle all alone in the middle of the night near dangerous housing projects and through dark alleys filled with villains and creeps. Before I left I even resided next to a mix of Deliverance, the Texas Chainsaw Massacare and Gigli. Did any of this frighten me? Absolutely not. None of these things would prepare me for the pants-peeing terror that would grip me when I turned to see what had moved in the bushes to my right. The fear was so great that it would make you pee your pants until those were supersaturated with urine then you would even pee your shirt, socks and hat. The moment for me will forever be frozen in time. My eyes dilated as my gaze fell upon what I first took to be a five to nine foot tall, brown velociraptor walking with its head bobbing up and down and pivoting from side to side. The small portion of my brain that wasn't paralyzed by horror told me that this wasn't possible, all I knew was that I was staring at the single ugliest and ferocious looking creature God had ever created.
The loathsome scourge of a creature turned ever so slightly towards me and a putrid scent of ancient decay filled my nostrils. The kind of smell that must have been familiar to SS officers at Nazi death camps and the Nazi officers present at the end of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark when all those guys faces melt off. Certainly this "Wild Turkey" ,as they call it, was bourne of Satan's Bowels I now decided. God had no hand in the creation of this abomination. With this stark realization, adrenaline pumped to my legs and I pedaled frantically down the hill, not applying my brakes until I was safely at the bottom. I carried on North into South Dakota towards the town of Vermillion.
I couldn't find a picture on the internet or in any books that would accurately depict the gruesome sight I had seen on that chilly late September morning so I am currently working on an illustration which I will post upon completion.

Outside Magazine

2006-09-28T10:28:00.000-06:00

Nice try but it seems the editor for a major national publication such as Outside would know how to spell sponsor.
Love,
Dan

TRAINING...

2006-09-27T13:50:00.000-06:00

Any athlete will tell you that after long periods of inactivity a little extra training can only do you good. These kind folks from Omaha were good enough to donate their services. Mikey is pictured testing the special high endurance formula "energy drink". I heard from this one guy who knows a guy who trained with Lance that he used some of the same techniques to win all those races. By Lance I mean Lance Wilkins of Wilford, Maine.

OMAHA

2006-09-27T13:25:00.000-06:00

I somehow ended up in Omaha, Nebraska for a few days. Its a pretty nice place. There is a town called Council Bluffs, Iowa aka Counciltucky where I was told the Squirrels are black and the trash is white. On days with no wind you can smell the stench of crystal methamphetamines being manufactured waft over the Missouri River. Council Bluffs is a despicable place and by no means or for any reason whatsoever should any self respecting person set foot in this town. I must've had four or five different people from Omaha tell me what a terrible place Counciltucky was. These pictures are of some of the nice people who were very hospitable to me and my Bicycle. Thank you guys again and if you ever want to have a civil war with the Bluffs lemme know, I know some people who would love to help burn their town down to the ground.

2006-09-27T13:09:00.000-06:00

The only thing that's worse than dead snakes on the road is dropping a baby. The only thing worse than dropping a baby is if after you drop the baby, its eyeballs roll out and snakes come crawling out of its eyesockets. Think about it.
One game I sometimes play while riding my bike through the vast wastelands of this great country is to say the county road numbers like I was calling out bingo numbers. for example, "S-27". After no one says anything repeat it aloud and look from left to right to see if anyone got bingo. No one will call out bingo, mostly because no one is around but also because S-27 isn't even a bingo number. I defy anyone to try this when they are by themselves and not at least chuckle to yourself.

My methods have become...Unsound

jtap

2006-09-27T13:01:00.000-06:00

2006-09-26T14:36:00.000-06:00

my bday, vaguely

2006-09-26T14:14:00.000-06:00

On my way to Okiboji I stopped in a small town to watch some of the Iowa Iowa state game cause I figured it would be a big deal. At the bar I stopped in they offered free food which entailed bread and a stew which the bartender and a patron debated over whether it contained beef or deer. either way, they agreed, it was delicious. I just had a Payday.
I feel fine in response to anonymous's query. How 'bout some names, huh. I may be the slowest self-contained trans-state tourist around but i am on vacation and I am enjoying myself and getting some quality thinking done.
I would love to explain details of my pleasant birthday-days spent in the Boj, as I like to call it, but im not going to. I will say this, the food there sucks except for the wharf. The outback, located behind my hotel was top notch and might be the greatest bar in Iowa. I befriended a purveyor of soy bean and corn seeds from down the way in town for the Clay County fair (another good story) and we all celebrated my bday. He was a real good guy. An honorable mention must go to bar patron Laurie who requested I drink with my shirt off many times to no avail. Sorry Laurie, or should I say large Marge from pee-wee's big adventure.

2006-09-26T14:10:00.000-06:00

2006-09-26T14:01:00.000-06:00

I slept in this

2006-09-26T13:54:00.000-06:00

My tent by the river

2006-09-26T13:50:00.000-06:00

The next day

2006-09-26T12:58:00.000-06:00

My eyes opened and I thanked God for letting me live for one more day but at the same time kind of let down that he wouldn't take me far, far away from a world where my uncles seth and todd have to use pseudonyms like uncle ruadh or grandma to accost a member of their own bloodline(?). Anyway I opened my pee flap, i mean tent flap and crawled out into the foliage to find a slightly cloudy sky and serene riverside. I gathered my belongings, a little hastily perhaps, since that night I have found my wallet missing along with one or two other items, namely dignity, and lugged all my shit back up the roadside where I leaned my beautiful bike against the bridge and strapped my bags and tent on. With daylight an overinflated since of courage and bravado crept back into my system. I ate my nutrigrain bars and turkey (turkey bolgna, which actually sucks) sandwiches and looked intrepidly towards the approaching rain clouds. I was determined to make it to a place called Okiboji which had been described to me as a haven for the debaucherous as I have always been curious to see how those type of people live. I headed into the approaching storm and was pelted by cold hard drops of rain. I was considering stopping so I wouldn't get cold and possibly sick when, as if God were rewarding me for a lifetime of good deeds and piety, the clouds dispersed quicker than a schoolyard full of children when my Uncle seth or todd slowly drive by in their tinted out vans. A joyous moment indeed punctuated by a glorious rainbow.

West Des Moines River night

2006-09-24T23:31:00.000-06:00

I arrived at the river greeted by lightning, the entire goddamned mosquito population of the West Nile and the failing light of day. As desperation set in I hastily dragged my bike and bike bags (which by the way are filled with various uneccessary electronic devices, some clothes and hundreds of flattened nutrigrain bars) down the side of the road into some unsuspecting farmers land. Sweat poured out of my body while I set up my tent and the grim realizaton set in that I had never set up a tent before by myself. Soon raindrops were mixing with my sweat. I stashed all my most important gear in the tent and crawled in seconds before the storm opened up. I laid my head down to try and just get to sleep so any demonic creatures of the Northern Iowa night that wanted to devour my brain would make quick, painless work. However I was not so lucky. Some Hellish forest minion kicked at my tent inches away from my head and even though I was clutching my shiv I could not see what I was up against so I laid still. Very still. Rain pelted my tent punctuated by relentless wind thunder and lightning and the brush was clearly alive around me. The noises of rabid river creatures traipsing around in the west branch of the Dem Moines feet away from my spineless body and the prospect of a maniacal farmer like the guy from American Gothic featuring pitchfork were enough to force me into the unconscious. Those things and the lack of oxygen in the poorly set up tent. Very Poorly. Note the look of pure unadulterated cowardice in my eyes while in the tent.

later

2006-09-24T23:05:00.000-06:00

Later that day I stopped by a fine establishment called the Red Barn where a creepy degenerate undertaker bought me a drink for my birthday. I aksked the other patrons about any spots to stay in town and they directed me to the public park which I have come to find is common practice out in smaller towns. This sounded like the safe option so I decided to do the exact opposite and ride into an oncoming lightning storm featuring possible tornadoes. I knew the Des Moines river was only about five miles head so I left the barn (recently renovated I was told)and headed toward the dark clouds. the young woman pictured was celebrating her birthday that day and requested a photo op which I obviously granted.

2006-09-16T18:53:00.000-06:00

On Friday I left Russell's with no real plan for the day I was just real happy to be back on the road riding. The weather was the best it had been and the biggest snag of the day was when I stopped in a little town to eat and they had no ATM. even this cloud had a silve lining though. The town had a see-saw. Man, I haven't seen one of those in a real long time. I think you have to be from a town where safety isn't a top priority to get to enjoy the simple pleasure of the see-saw. None of that ultra safe and hygienic colorful plastic crap, just a gnarled old plank full of infectious slivers in waiting and a jagged rusty handle to rip your palms open like making a fist with nails in your palm, for you and your chum to take turns seeing how much punishment each others ankles can handle, each of you afraid to stop for fear of ridicule. Man, those were the days. Seriously, it is funner with two people though.

2006-09-16T18:46:00.000-06:00

Jerry and Russell and Russell's shop

Thursday and Friday Day

2006-09-16T17:38:00.000-06:00

The last couple of days were pretty interesting. On Wednesday I decided to go a little off course so I could go by a campsite I saw on my map denoted by a little green pine tree. I was coasting down from the top of a pretty big hill enjoying the serene view listening to some classical music with a big smile on my face when my left bag came unlatched and smashed into my spokes and the side of my wheel, contorting my rack and as result bending my wheel. I figured I would walk the short distance to the campsite and when I got there I would get out my tools and duct tape and rig something up that would carry my stuff long enough to get to a bike store. I rechecked my map and figured I was at most two miles from the little green pine tree on the map. No big deal, two miles is no problem on foot... nine miles later I came to a major highway and saw a hotel down the road. The pine tree was bullshit. I promptly checked in and inquired the whereabouts of the nearest bike store. The lady began to answer me but stopped when two little kids charged out of their room into the lobby. One of them, a little feral boy, didn't stop until he was outside in his element. The other one was a girl and she stopped only to instruct the 14 year old desk clerk (possibly with child) to hold her calls. then she turned, swinging her blond pigtails in an exaggerated fashion, without waiting for a response, in a princess-like fashion and disappeared down the hall. When all the kids were elsewhere (I did keep an eye on the wolf boy out in the lot in my peripheal) she responded, "I'm not from around here" but she did then recite robotic vivid descriptions of where the Subway, Hardees, Kum n Go, and the Caseys General Store were. I later walked into town and saw that the young clerk was absolutely surgical with her directions but there was no bike store. Defeated for the day I retired to my hotel. Wolf boy and the princess weren't around and after rearranging the room and making sure clothing, food wrappers and newspapers were strewn about, I turned in for the night. I woke up and decided to go figure out what to do with my bike at a park down the street. After setting up my ipod speakers for optimum sound and eating a delicious payday I turned my bike upside down and was taking the back tire off when a truck pulled up and a man named Jerry asked what the matter was and then offered to take me to a bike shop he knew of in Clear Lake that his friend Russell operated. I jumped at the offer not believing my dumb luck. On the ride Jerry told me a lot of useful information about Iowa and was generally very helpful. When we got to the store, Lakeside Cyclery located at 5435 South Shore Drive in Clear Lake Iowa #641.357.4660 I found maybe the best bike store I've ever been in ran by Russell Rayburn who is super knowledgeable and passionate on all things bicycle. He put me up for the night and was a tremendous help all in all. Selfless people like Jerry and Russell reaffirm your faith in people. I also gotta mention the best bar in Clear Lake, Ingy's Bar. Jimmy's the guy in the picture giving a thumbs up he was a pretty good shit.

This icetray was pretty small

2006-09-12T21:29:00.000-06:00

a river

2006-09-12T21:14:00.000-06:00

2006-09-12T21:10:00.000-06:00

2006-09-12T21:03:00.000-06:00

if you like stale PayDay bars or are looking to rent a VHS tape this is the place for you. Elma, Iowa

MY BIIKE

2006-09-12T20:56:00.000-06:00

My Bike

so far

2006-09-12T20:29:00.000-06:00

Monday was cold and rainy and today was pretty much the same but its still nice to ride down a long interrupted road with only probably 20 cars going by an hour. I got my route from a guy named Richard who owns a bike store in Decorah. He was a big help and a pretty nice guy. Thanks Richard.
Im riding on two lane county roads mostly in between expansive cornfields and every once in a while a farm with pigs or cows milling about and usually the stench of what must be a rotting corpse gently wafting into my nostrils. One day I saw some horses and some deer hanging out together in a field so I stopped to check it out, cause I thought that was kind of unusual, and the horses got really irritated with me taking their pictures. They flared their noses and whinnied so I kept riding. So far 4 dogs have chased me, nothing too exciting though, they just wanted to play around. I'm staying at a motel 8 in Osage tonight and tomorrow I'll ride on county A-38 to somewhere between joice and forest city depending on the weather.

2006-09-11T17:28:00.000-06:00

Thanks Jamie

2006-09-08T21:52:00.000-06:00

Thanks to Jamie Laing for all his help setting up this thing. I appreciate it.

hey...

2006-09-07T21:47:00.000-06:00

Hey whats happening