The Cats Are Herded

Day Five: Lawrence to Daykin

Davenport, Carlton, Bruning, Daykin

57 miles...5 hours in the saddle

This morning, I was rudely awakened by the blazing sun in my face. We had camped in the park last night and forgotten the first rule of setting up your tent: make sure you're on the west side of a tree or other obstacle, so that you'll be in the shade in the morning.

Bad tent placement.

Good tent placement...Bob and Noelle.

But at least we weren't near the sprinkler.

Here are the rest of the crew in the picnic shelter...also nicely shaded.

Anyway, I was sure it was frighteningly early, but actually it turned out to be almost 9:00. So I guess it was time to get up anyway.

Breakfast at Dick's Place consisted of a banana, coffee, grape jelly toast, and some Cheerios I bought at the grocery store next door. So not my usual bike ride breakfast, which would be more like scrambled eggs, hash browns, toast, pancakes, coffee, orange juice, and sometimes oatmeal. Breakfast is definitely my favorite meal of the day. More on that later.

Maybe it wasn't really 1971??

Getting ready to leave Lawrence...Bob and Noelle.

Peace out...Hajdu.

Anyway, after that I went over to Paula's to try to post, which worked out fine even though she wasn't home. Mark, Al, and I took off for Davenport around 11...everyone else had taken off earlier.

We were doing fine for about 22 miles, and then I just got hungry and had to stop. Really, the vultures were circling!

My optimal cruising speed at that point.

A quick stop by the side of the road with some crackers, peanut butter, and Oreos saved me and we made it the last three miles to Davenport.

We've seen an assortment of animals on the trip so far, besides these turkey vultures, including hawks, swallows, bats, bull snakes, rattlesnakes (one alive, herded off the road to safety by Hajdu), rabbits, grasshoppers (it was like parting the Red Sea the first few days, with grasshoppers jumping away from the bike as we rode down the shoulder...unfortunately, they sometimes chose unwisely, direction-wise, and jumped right into the wheel through the spokes, probably not to hop in the grass another day), goats, pheasant, deer, red-headed woodpecker, blue heron, and meadowlark. Plus a lot of road kill, unfortunately. Pobrecitos.

We left Davenport and some of the group stopped at Carlton, which turned out to be a very fun town...the bar was closed, but the mayor's dad happened to be driving by and obliged everyone by opening the bar. Bob, Noelle, Al, Mark, and I went straight to Bruning, where I had a GREAT BREAKFAST! At 5:30 p.m., but who cares. Betty of Betty's Cafe made me two scrambled eggs, hash browns, and a pancake, and not just any pancake...a CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCAKE! It was DELICIOUS.

Pretty soon the other folks showed up, including the local guys from Carlton! We managed to herd all riders (miraculously) to the gazebo for an official group shot, graciously taken by someone eating at the cafe, who signed up to take one picture but ended up with six cameras (of course). THE CATS ARE HERDED. :-)

We rode from Bruning to Daykin, a very pleasant 17 miles, and here we are after a fine dinner of whitefish and baked potato. We're considering riding another 17 to Plymouth, but might end up staying here. If we ride on, it will be my first leg in the dark...kind of surprising, as we usually ride a leg in the dark every night.

A few other pictures from the day...

Lots o' corn.

Al working (yes, seriously...Al is riding with a mobile electronic office...mini-PC, HP computer, and is actually working while we ride. The evidence is right here!).

Lauree's hematoma...wow.

“Lady Sings the Bruise”
(caption courtesy of Bob Weiss)

Mark and I on the Oregon Trail! And speaking of Oregon, here are some fantastic blueberries we bought in rural Nebraska, and guess where they came from: (yes, you guessed it) Oregon.

Today's featured rig is Kentucky Jim's. Jim's handlebars feature a clown riding a dinosaur...which he says is indicative of some kind of analogy (you can make it for yourself). Jim has been riding the same bike with the same panniers since Hajdu introduced him to Ragbrai back in 1990 (it was a loaner bike that year, and then Jim bought this one). Jim has basically kept everything the same since then...which meant packing this year wasn't too much trouble, just had to grab everything that was sitting there since his last Ragbrai in 2002...oh, and fix his rear axle, which had fallen apart after the '02 ride. Jim rode about one mile to make sure everything was ship-shape in preparation for this year's ride.

Jim added some turkey feathers to his front panniers this year (found on the road...well, on a turkey) to provide the bike with some wings...on the back, note the Budweiser cup acquired with Susie Bowen (now Peace) on a Ragbrai of long ago and accompanying him ever since, great for scooping ice to put in the cooler. Or for carrying a giant sweet roll that eventually has to be discarded after days of riding around in the hot sun. Such a good-looking sweet roll, too...

In keeping with the keeping-everything-the-same on Jim's bike, he listens to tunes on his Panasonic player mounted to the front fork, which plays cassette tapes. Hey, at least they're not 8-track.

Looks like we're probably staying here, but you never know. There are good tunes on the jukebox and friendly people...and possibly a house to shower at, so I'm guessing we're staying. Over and out until tomorrow or the next wi-fi opportunity.

Birthday and Reunion Day

Happy birthday, Mike!!

Day Four: Holdrege/Hildreth to Lawrence, Nebraska
67 miles...5 hours 45 minutes in the saddle

Today we biked through some tar. We had the misfortune to arrive just as they were putting down oil and gravel in between Wilcox and Hildreth. This meant plowing ahead though bits of oily gravel were flying up, getting caught in between the tire and the fender, and then spitting out. I was very gravely by the end...sandals filled and body speckled with sticky dark bits mired in suntan lotion and sweat. Lovely, eh?(Pre-tar)

After that it got better, though it was still hot as all get out. At nearly 7 p.m., it was still 90 degrees. But we've had nice roads today...we got off highway 6, which was getting kind of busy with trucks and such, and struck out on highway 4, still a high speed limit but MUCH less busy. Hardly any cars. Here are some sights from the road: Lots o' soybeans.

What we did have were some hills.

You may recall Bob and Noelle had spent the night in Hildreth last night...or actually, I wasn't sure if they'd gone on or not, but it turned out they'd stayed in Hildreth...so I was eager for the group to reunite, especially since today was Ohio Mike's birthday! So I was glad we all headed down to route 4 to try and catch up...but catching up when you're on a bike, riding throug headwinds and hills, is easier said than done. It basically took all day...and each time we arrived in a town, it turned out Bob and Noelle had been there a few hours before.

A little polka action.

New hairdo for Jim.

But we finally met up in Lawrence, where we are all overnighting. Finally! Our presence here bumps the population of Lawrence from 312 to 322. We're headed for the park momentarily to camp, and the gal here at Dick's Place has been kind enough to call the guy in charge of the park and ask him to open up the bathroom. No shower, but at least a bathroom and a sink...that's pretty good!

We hear it's pretty hilly from here on out, and Ragbrai also promises to be hilly (this year's route is in the top 10 for feet of climbing out of the nearly 40 years of Ragbrai). Today was a little preview of this, especially the last miles to Lawrence, and I am plumb tuckered out. I'm glad we're staying here.

To finish up, here are a few photos of today's featured rig, Tricky Al's: Notice his fine shock absorbing handlebar stem, cell phone mount, and stereo speakers. Al also has a front wheel alternator that charges the batteries that run the stereo and the lights, and can also charge his cell phone.
Also of interest are Al's hydraulic brakes. Instead of cables, the brakes operate using mineral oil that runs through little plastic pipes down to the calipers. These brakes are so reliable Al has not had to adjust them in 3,000 miles.

On the back, Al has the usual touring equipment...a cooler, chair, and clothing and goodies for the trip. Al's thermarest cover is handmade, which was no easy feat considering he had to sew a round bottom onto a tube.

Last year, Al hauled a solar panel back there, which powered his stereo and lights, but this, combined with the front hub, turned out to be more energy than he needed. The front hub alternator is doing the trick this year.

Well, I'm out of batteries and way behind now, so I'd better get going. More whenever I can get the chance.

Holdrege or Hildreth?

Note: This post is from Monday, July 13. Wi-fi in rural Nebraska is a little bit scarce! I'm sitting right now outside of Paula's house in Lawrence, Nebraska, Paula being the bartender of Dick's Place, where we hung out last night, who kindly offered to let me use her computer this morning...only she doesn't seem to be home, but lucky for me her wi-fi channel is open and reaches to the front stoop. :-)

Day Three: Arapaho/Indianola/Bartlet to Holdrege/Hildreth, or perhaps one town beyond

40 miles or 69 miles or ??

Okay, this is getting complicated. Lauree and I left McCook this morning riding in Jim Suiter's truck and got dropped off in Arapahoe. Here's Lauree's shoulder as it looked this morning, in all its goopy glory:

Ready to ride anyway!

If you recall, this was the group's intended destination yesterday, and even though they didn't quite make it, we decided to stick with the plan to give Lauree's shoulder and hip a little more chance to recuperate. Plus, by the time we got out there, some of them had actually arrived in Arapahoe! We met up with Bob, Noelle, Mark, and Al (who had spent the night in Indianola) at the Sinclair station, where we filled up with ice and water and then went (just Mark and I) to Subway across the street, where I wolfed down a six inch tuna. I don't know what got into me, as I hadn't been riding since mid-day yesterday and had just eaten breakfast, but I was ravenous.

KY Jim, Ohio Mike, and Hajdu had started from Bartlet but had not yet arrived in Arapahoe. We wouldn't see them until evening.

It was a lovely ride down route 34, if a bit hilly again. We turned off on 136 to hit a little town called Oxford, passing first through Edison, which has all of 154 people. Here are a few sights from Edison, which I thought was a cute little town:

I thought this was a comment on a personal lifestyle choice, but Bob informed me later that it is a type of car. Oh.

I love hay bales.

Then in Oxford I was in heaven because they had the BEST MILKSHAKES EVER! In the back of a hardware store, of all places.

While we were at this heavenly milkshake place, a call came in from Hajdu, who was still in Arapaho. They were heading to Holdrege, not Hildreth. And now ensued a discussion about where we would go. It seems Bob had mapped out a plan that went through Holdrege first and then Hildreth, but Hajdu had spent the previous night convincing him it would be best to go straighth to Hildreth. But Hajdu had meant Holdrege when he was saying Hildreth, so now he was calling to straighten it out. But now Bob was set on going straight to Hildreth.*

If you know these people, this will all make perfect sense. If you don't, just skip down below.

Anyway, this is how Bob and Noelle went to Hildreth and the rest of us went to Holdrege. It really was a more reasonable destination, mile-wise, and best of all (boy, am I getting soft) it had three motels, from which one of them I am writing this right now. THREE IN A ROW! I could get used to this.

Al and Lauree arrive in Holdrege.

Toby, Ohio Mike, Kentucky Jim, and Hajdu showed up later and we all had beer and pizza in Lauree and Toby's room. Jim had had a spill and is a bit scraped up on the shoulder...but Lauree is still number one in oozy, impressive wounds. I hope no one else will vye for this position.

I came back to update the blog and found the internet connection doesn't work, so hopefully tomorrow I can find a wi-fi source.

And speaking of tomorrow, it's Ohio Mike's birthday! I'm hoping we will ride south, meet up with Bob and Noelle and celebrate together. Hope springs eternal, I guess.

*These events are recorded as I experienced them, and may or may not bear any resemblance to reality.

You CAN Go Home Again

Day Two: Stratton/Trenton to McCook/Indianola 35-45 miles

Last night the group split up...Mike, Jim, and Ohio Mike went on to Trenton, while Bob and Noelle, Toby and Lauree, Al, and Mark and I stayed in Stratton. So some of us started today from Trenton and some from Stratton. And then some of us ended in McCook and some in Indianola. I'll explain below.

The day started off well enough, though there was no place in Stratton to eat breakfast. Luckily, I never leave home without a box of Cheerios. So I was set. Mark breakfasted on leftover barbecue potato chips, and we (along with Al) left the Motel Stratton for Trenton around 9:30 a.m. The day was sunny and warm, and THANKFULLY the wind had shifted and died down, so we had a mild tailwind as we started out. This would change, but for the time being, we were enjoying the ride. The shoulder was wide, though sometimes cracked and scattered with debris, and traffic was light.

As we got further away from Stratton, the road began to undulate in the up-and-down direction...our first hills. They weren't too bad, though...long, but not horribly steep. The breeze going down felt great, though the slog to the top wasn't quite as fun. My knees had chosen this morning to start complaining. I took some ibuprofen and motored on.

So we were slogging up one of these hills when I heard a voice call "Car back!" and I got over on the shoulder and sure enough, there was a car. I looked in my mirror and couldn't see anyone. But I had clearly heard someone giving me the warning call. I checked my mirror again: nothing.

I briefly entertained the idea that I was hearing voices...helpful voices, but voices from the great beyond never-the-less. Wow, I could write a book about my mysterious guardian angel who helped me avoid being flattened by a truck ...might compromise my humanistic principles a little to feature the supernatural, but hey, if the evidence is there...

There it was again, "Car back!", clear as a bell. I got over as another car passed. This time I could see something in the mirror, and a few minutes later, Bob and Noelle pulled up alongside on their recumbent bike and trike, respectively. (Goodbye book deal.)

And that's when I got the bad news: Lauree had taken a spill on this very road earlier, lost consciousness for about a minute and a half, and been taken to the hospital in McCook by ambulance. Toby, Lauree's significant other, was awaiting us at a cafe a few miles up the road.

!! This was not good.

I pedaled on, horrified and alarmed and worried. It sounded like she was probably okay and the trip to the hospital was a precautionary measure, but still. Look what happened to Natasha Richardson.

We arrived at the cafe and I called the Suiters, whom we were planning to visit in McCook anyway. McCook, Nebraska happens to be the childhood home of my dear friend Angela and the current home of her wonderful parents, Jim and Audrey Suiter. Making a long story short, Jim and Audrey demonstrated their wonderfulness ten times over today by going over to the hospital and taking care of Lauree, bringing both her and her bike to their house after a CAT scan indicated it was safe, and feeding all of us Coors beer, potato salad, pineapple, and roast beef sandwiches (just potato salad and pineapple for me).

Hajdu was the first to arrive in McCook and also met Lauree at the hospital. The rest of us, arriving sometime later, found Lauree reclining on the couch, in pretty good spirits but sporting some serious bandages on her grazed-up (but not broken) shoulder, as well as a prize-winning bruise on her hip.In good spirits, despite all.

Turned out she'd been trying to get over on that shoulder to let a car go by, and got tripped up by messiness, debris, and a bad lip on the shoulder.

Luckily, half our crew are doctors. Noelle rebandaged the shoulder and advised her on medication for the rest of the day. Lauree wanted to hop on the bike and keep riding, but the doctors had told her to take it easy today and tomorrow...so we figured out a plan which would include an overnight stay at the Suiters and a ride (thanks again to Jim and Audrey) in a truck tomorrow to catch up with the group.

Lauree and the Suiters

So that's how, after great effort by Bob and Noelle to fix up Lauree's bike, the rest of the crew rode on, ostensibly to Arapahoe (40 miles away)...well, perhaps not Arapahoe, but Cambridge (26 miles)...well, looks like a storm is coming, so we'd better stay put in Indianola...and that's where they are now, 12 miles from McCook.

So Lauree and I have our nice air-conditioned digs with a real bed and Tylenol to keep the pain at bay, and the rest of those goons are riding through the rain even as I type this, to find a nice sweaty campsite at the local picnic shelter in Indianola.

One thing that's been really nice, though, besides the warmth and hospitality of the Suiters, is just seeing Angela's house. It's full of family pictures and memorabilia from a whole lifetime of kids, and now grandkids. The Suiters have lived here since 1958. Angela's room still has her name plate on the outside and is still painted pink on the inside (though Mrs. Suiter's quilts have replaced Angela's childhood things).

My family home is gone, and I've lived in five different states. This kind of longevity amazes and touches me. For Angela, anyway, and in some vicarious way, me tonight, you can go home again.

Summer Bike Ride 2009

Day 1: Wray, Colorado to Stratton, Nebraska

58.3 miles; 4 hours and 56 minutes in the saddle. This does not add up to a blistering pace, but in my defense, there was a big headwind! I'm just happy to have made it to Stratton and still be feeling pretty good. And I'm feeling especially good because I'm showered and sitting in an air-conditioned motel room. All for the sake of the blog, of course (luckily, there is wi-fi here! I think it might be a neighbor's, but who cares--I'm using it!). Has nothing to do with being eaten alive by mosquitoes down at the town picnic shelter whilst contemplating cleaning up under the icy water of the park spigot...or maybe we should just skip that, put up the tent and dive into it...but then we'll be sweaty, dirty, and sticky in a tent, trying to sleep with the day's grime all over us...and then where should we put the tent? That grass looks pretty lush. In park-camping parlance, that means there is a distinct possibility that it is watered with sprinklers, which will no doubt start up about 2 a.m., soaking you and your tent. One time Beater Bob inadvertently put his tent up right next to spigot, which then sprang to action while he was sleeping, spraying him right through the door!

Okay, motel is sounding pretty good! Maybe I'm just getting old, but I don't care about maintaining my die-hard camper persona anymore. A warm shower and good night's sleep beckon.

So Mark and I pedal through town...a once-promising overnight destination with pool and bar, but of course the pool is closed because it's 9 p.m., and woe to us, also the bar (as in, gone out of business)...and find the diminutive Stratton Motel, which has a sign saying "Call Karin if you need a room" at such-and-such number. Mark and I call and then swat mosquitoes as we wait for her to come. Luckily, there is one room available, though she explains that she's taken over this motel business from her mom, and really she and her sister are supposed to be doing it together, but her sister really isn't doing much and it was her sister that was supposed to clean the room, but last time it wasn't very clean..."Heh, what she thinks of as clean..." her voice trailed off. "Well, here you are, number 6" she says, handing us a key.

We enter with some trepidation, but the room is fine, though we notice too late there are no towels. Oh well, we all have our own (for those park spigot occasions). Al is joining us in the room; Toby and Lauree are already tenting in the other picnic shelter; Ohio Mike and Jim have ridden on to Trenton (another 12 miles) which has a guaranteed open bar; Bob, Noelle, and Mike were still deciding what to do when we left.

So here I am, and there's our cast of characters. All with an Iowa connection, but coming from many different parts of the country now: Michigan, Ohio, Kansas, Kentucky, and of course, Iowa. We've biked together in various formations for about 20 years...hard to believe so much time has gone by, but hey! we've still got it! and now it's parked its butt in a motel.

So a quick run-down of the day:
We watched a little of the Tour de France at breakfast in Wray, then assembled for the traditional starting-off group photo and got on the road at the crack of 11. Missing from this photo, by the way, are Kentucky Jim and Mike Hajdu, who bolted out of town uncharacteristically early.
It's almost impossible to get our whole group together. Like herding cats.

Anyway, not one tenth of a mile later, Mark had a flat tire. He doesn't look too upset, though, does he? At least we were still in town and had a nice shady tree to sit under to fix it.We headed down the road...it was pretty flat and had a nice shoulder (highway 34). 9 miles later we were in Nebraska, but hey--now we can tell people we biked from COLORADO, when we get to Ragbrai. Definitely sounds more impressive.I picked up a sunflower along the way, to put in the bud vase Lauree gave me last year.First stop, Haigler, Nebraska, where we had a warm welcome from Shawna at Jake's Place. It was a potato-y lunch of French fries and potato salad.On the good side, Kentucky Jim got a nice new hairdo, courtesy of Noelle.On the bad side, Ohio Mike discovered he had a flat tire.Leaving Haigler, we stopped to read a historical marker about the "Texas Trail Canyon." See, our trip is both fun and educational.A tree-lined gravel road beckoned a little later, and we had a nice rest and snack. I debuted my Sling-Light chair, which was GREAT. But best of all, Toby shared his amazing beans and rice with Mike and Mark and me...really, Mark said it was the best thing he'd eaten on the trip. Too bad he didn't bring enough for every day. :-)On to Benkelman, population 1,006. Some enterprising youngsters were "realizing their potential" by selling cherry Kool-Aid and watermelon. Remind me never to drink Kool-Aid again, no matter how cute the sellers. It is disgusting.

We assembled for another group picture in Benkelman...actually at the request of one of the local gals, but I took advantage and handed her my camera, too. You might notice there were 10 people on the roster, and hmm, only 7 people in this photo.Present this time is Mike Hajdu...missing are Ohio Mike, Kentucky Jim, and Tricky Al. From left to right: Hajdu, Bob Weiss, Mark, Toby, Lauree, and me...and Noelle on the trike.

Wait, now here are Tricky Al (far left) and Ohio Mike (far right)...but where are Toby, Lauree, and Kentucky Jim?Herding cats, people. This was the best we could do. Turns out Jim was at the grocery store during all of this, so we never would have found him.

Headed out of Benkelman for Stratton, with threats of nearby storms. Didn't get rained on, arrived at picnic shelter, and you know the rest.

More tomorrow, or as wi-fi permits!

P.S Mark had another flat as we pulled into Stratton...flat tire count for the group for the day: 3. Other troubles: my fender bolt fell out and brakes were rubbing. Thanks to Hajdu for an extra bolt and nut and washer, and Bob for handy advice and tools.

In Which the Orbiter Kicks My Butt

Note: I am posting this from Wray, Colorado, where we are about to embark on a trek by bicycle through all 10 miles of Colorado to the border of Nebraska, then across Nebraska, meeting up with Ragbrai and continuing across Iowa until we end in Iowa City. MUCH MORE ON THAT TO FOLLOW, as the reins of bike-trip blogging have been passed to me by Tom Hermann, who wrote a fantastic blog of last year's trip. These are hard shoes to fill! so I won't even try, but look for updates as often as we can find wi-fi. In the meantime, here's a little story from a few days back...

----

So it's Cherry Festival around here. In case you didn't know, Traverse City is the "Cherry Capital of the World." Says who? Why Traverse City, of course.

Anyway, each year they have a big festival to celebrate all the cherries, none of which are usually ready at the time of the festival. And this year is no exception. I believe they are trucking in the cherries from Washington State.

Holy cow, I have just discovered that the Cherry Festival has its own entry in Wikipedia. You can check it out here.

As a point of information, I have personally toured the Leelanau Fruit Company, where they process the cherries just north of town. You would not believe what they go through to process thousands and thousands of cubic meters of cherries, thus providing fodder for the world's fruit cakes (I'm not kidding). They basically have to de-color and de-taste the cherries by bleaching them and putting them in solutions of brine...thus enabling the preservation of the cherries for four or five years at least...only to add in artificial color and taste later. What's wrong with this picture, people? Am I the only one who thinks this is nuts?

Do we really need all those fruitcakes?

Anyway, with the Cherry Festival comes music, food stands, three-stories-tall inflatable bottles of Miller beer, and the like. And the MIDWAY CARNIVAL.

Now I was walking by the carnival a few days ago and saw something that made my heart skip a beat: a SCRAMBLER. Or what I thought was a Scrambler, anyway. The Scrambler, for those who might not know, is the favorite ride of my childhood (and my mom's favorite ride, too)...that gentle, dreamy, floaty ride that made you squish comfortably against the person beside you as you flew from starpoint to starpoint in the figure you were tracing on the ground. You know the one.

So I see this Scrambler, and I'm dying to go. But who knows when I'm getting to the carnival, or IF I'm getting to the carnival.

But then it turns out my friend Polly is playing in the community band in their "Salute to Heroes" Monday night, and I rearrange a few things and go. And I talk my friend Claudia into coming with me.

We have this great dinner, which Claudia has made with herbs from her garden. Bless people who grow things and cook. And we polish off a bottle of wine that I brought to go along with it (bless grocery stores). And we walk to the festival and have a great time listening to the band, and then, on the way back, THERE IT IS. The Midway Carnival.

Just walking in there is a trip down memory lane, or maybe a trip down psychedelic crazy lane. Everything is neon and flashing and smells like elephant ears and popcorn. Giant machines are swinging up and down carrying people screaming in delight.

So I say to Claudia hey, there's this ride in here, it's called the Scrambler, do you know it? Wanna go on it? Huh, do ya do ya? Pleeeeeease??

Claudia looks skeptical, which in retrospect was definitely the wise position to take. But I talk her into it and we head for the Scrambler, past the Swings Ride and just before the Elephant Ride where you sit in a baby elephant that looks like Dumbo and go around in a circle, occasionally being surprised by being lifted into the air. "Hey, how about that elephant ride?" asks Claudia.

In retrospect, that elephant ride would have been just the ticket.

But no, there was the Scrambler in all its glory.

Except it was called "The Orbiter."

Hmm.

Several people were sitting in "The Orbiter" and the gate was closed, and I was disappointed to think maybe we'd have to wait a round, but no! the operator motioned for us to come on up the ramp! so up we ran. He unlocked the gate, guided us to our Scrambler--er, Orbiter--seat, and put the bar down. We were in! The fun was about to begin. Memories of past Scrambler rides floated through my mind as I eagerly anticipated the start of the ride.

We chatted a little as the operater went around and closed everyone else's bars. What's taking so long? Let's go!

And then it began.

And right away, I knew something had gone TERRIBLY WRONG.

Instead of the dreamy, gentle beginning where you kind of float along the ground from one side to the other, Claudia and I were launched immediately INTO SPACE. And it was NOT GENTLE. And there we were, careening around the center post of "The Orbiter" in tight little circles that criss-crossed themselves, the kind of tight little circles that make a person wonder not if, but when she is going to toss her cookies. Screams emanated from our seat in the Orbiter, not the afore-mentioned delighted kind, but more the "Holy-mother-of-all-that-is-holy-what-have-we-gotten-ourselves-into?" variety. Loud music blared and seemed to goad "The Orbiter" into even faster and tighter circles. Claudia and I hung on for dear life. Screams were replaced by whimpers, which then faded into grim silence. It was now a matter of survival as we whirled around and around. And around. And around...

Finally, a slight jolt in the machinery indicated--could it be?--yes! thank all that is merciful! "The Orbiter" was slowing down, and coming to a halt! The handsome young carny operator came and let us out and we wobbled out of the seat and back down the ramp. "HOLY COW!" I said. About a million times. It was all my mind could compute. "HOLY COW! WHAT WAS THAT?!" The world was spinning and my insides were all mixed up. Crazy alley had become even crazier. We walked through the throngs of people and the bright machines and flashing neon lights and said "HOLY COW!" and tried not to look at the elephant ears or any other food-related items and kept walking until we were far, far away from the carnival.

Holy cow!

"I'm not feeling so good," said Claudia.

"Me neither," I said.

This really went without saying, but we were just making conversation.

"The walk will do us good," I said.

"I think I'll have to walk all the way to Sutton's Bay," Claudia replied.

(Sutton's Bay is 15 miles up the peninsula, for you non-Michiganders.)

We walked to Claudia's house, about a 15-minute pilgrimage, and collapsed on the couch.

"The Orbiter kicked our butts!" I said. I was beginning to feel better.

"Let us never speak of this again," Claudia said.

We laughed, but it was only partly funny.

I rode my bike home...slowly. I was still not back to normal when I arrived at home, nor when I went to bed after drinking several glasses of ice water. It was not until this morning that I felt like myself again. And it was not until tonight, when Claudia and I were relating this debacle to a friend, that I realized if I'd had half a brain paying attention, I should have seen this coming. "We were just LAUNCHED INTO SPACE!' I exclaimed, still indignant that what I thought was the Scrambler could have inflicted this upon us.

"Well, it is called 'The Orbiter,'" Claudia pointed out.

The ORBITER!

DUH!

Pre-Orbiter