The Kindness of Strangers: Part 1 - The Multi-Millionaire and Me (Us)

We're not dead! Just a long time between internet access:) We're always in town after the library closes (or on Sunday), so it gets very hard to blog.

Just as a quick update, we're now in central-ish Kansas.....I hate it almost as much as Nevada. All I have to say is "HEADWIND". Boo. We met up with a really awesome couple that is biking their way back to Virginia, and we've been hanging with them for several days now. They're a little more hardcore than we are, so it is definitely giving us good motivation. We had our first "century"....we biked 103 miles on 7/13, so that felt pretty good (for the mind, definitely not the body - ouch). We're going to keep up with them as long as we can, because they are great company:)

Wow, we've had such great experiences on this trip so far, and not nearly enough time to blog about it. There are so many amazing people. You've already heard about Don, Nicole and Mitch. There was also Wayne, Bob, Ron, Cynthia, Ivar, Vicki, Steve, Steve, etc. This is just one of the stories that we think you could find amusing.

July 3rd we were heading along our path as normal, and we decided to stop for lunch on a little bridge that crossed the Dolores River. We swung our legs over the edge and ate our healthy PopTart and NutriGrain bars. Before long, we heard someone yell "Don't do it! Don't jump!", so we turned around. Up a tiny hill on the other side was a pretty huge mansion - all wood. A guy was waving from his second floor balcony. We waved back. Then we forgot about it. A little while later, a cyclist came up to talk to us. As it turns out, he was the mansion guy. His name was Steve. He was kind of pompous at first...within 5 minutes we knew he had a Maserati and he lived in the huge mansion behind us. Ok, tough guy. He also offered us his phone number in case we were in Telluride, because he would take us around to the bars. I think Bethany and I both had to work really hard to keep our eyes from rolling back into our heads. The second he left, I told Bethany that I would be fine if we never saw this guy again. But things never work out as I think they will:)

Several miles after that, when we were looking for a place to spend the night, we came across a small town called Rico. There was only one place in town to get food, so we stopped at the gas station. And guess who was there? Steve. I KNOW! Anyway, we sat down and had a break, and ended up spending most of the time talking to Steve. He told us how he used to live in Tucson, and he had the best and most outrageous stories. Apparently he made his millions as a florist (who knew! I'm looking into that when I get home), and later he bought a night club. The Tucson police couldn't believe that he made his money without doing something illegal, so they had it "in" for him. He was shot at a couple times, two guys were killed outside of his club, Kid Rock played at his birthday, blah blah blah. And on and on and on. For 45 minutes/an hour, Steve talked. My responses consisted mostly of "wow!", or "no kidding!", or "I can't believe the Tucson Police had it out for you!", or "so, you're wife knew about your mistress?". Crazy stuff.

After Steve ran out of stories, he offered his 51 acre land for us to camp on. He said we could ride back down to his house, camp on his property, and then he would drive us back up to where we left off. It sounded like a great deal to me. Any day we could get free camping was a good day. Not to mention, although Steve was full of incredible (and possibly false) stories, both Bethany and I felt that he was completely harmless. Just a really outgoing type of guy that lived in a tiny tiny town, and was dying to tell his stories to new people. Plus, I had a really really big knife, just in case. So, we did it. We rode back down to his mansion, fully prepared to camp on his property. The only problem was this: mosquitos. I guess the season had been unusually rainy, and the mosquitos were breeding like crazy. They were all over Bethany like a bear on honey, and they were biting us through our clothing. Fortunately, Steve offered us his guest house.

Yes, guest house. He offered for us to stay in his 4 bedroom, 2 bathroom guest house. Then he made us a dinner of spaghetti and homemade sauce....during which time he told us more stories, each one crazier than the next. Even better, Steve, who is 50 years old, has a 25-year-old girlfriend. We were eventually introduced to her, and she looked more like 12. After a rough start, she ended up being very nice...:)

The next morning Steve made us the best oatmeal either one of us has have ever eaten. Then his girlfriend cut up a huge watermelon, and essentially the 4 of us ate it all. Then, true to his word, Steve drove us back to where we left off, and actually a few miles further (to avoid a big hill). He dropped us off, and then he was gone, leaving Bethany and I to wonder what in the world had just happened.

It is frustrating to have so many MANY stories, and not be able to type fast enough. I would imagine the next few blogs would be:

• Fourth of July in Telluride with Ivar and Vicki
• The night we slept in a volunteer firehouse with five other cyclist (on top of the firetrucks, no less!)
• Why Bethany was so traumatized in childhood (one guess: older siblings!)
• Peanut butter and jelly vs. Peanut butter and banana...the debate continues