I started the Biking Across Kansas (which I honestly wish they would call Bike Across Kansas like every sane person does) with the intention of blogging about my adventures every day. I actually was successful for the first four days, although a couple of the posts were written on the same day. Cycling for 60+ miles in a day kind of saps your energy, and the weather really posed some challenges.

But part way through the week, the daily posts kind of became repetitive. I also felt like I was doing a lot of complaining. I mean honestly, 8-9 hours of sitting on a bike seat will do that to you, ya’ know?

So I started to think about the bigger picture, and what BAK 2014 really meant to me. Honestly, what was I learning?

And at the core, I was learning that everybody has a story. There 850+ cyclists who were riding with us each had a story. Some were spectacular tales that were told with eloquence and fire. Some were quiet tales of Midwestern folks just living life, as normal as could be. Some recounted harrowing tales, while others discussed the mundane aspects of their bicycles or their grandkids.

But every person on the ride had a story to tell. And there were lots of other stories too. My daughter and I stopped in Chapman, KS to eat at Tossed n Sauced Pizza. Chapman is a tiny town (population 1,417) nestled between the Smoky Hill River and I-70 midway between Abiene and Junction City. It’s not directly on the interstate highway, and it’s one of those towns I’d heard of only through sports. It was certainly not a town I’d ever visited, and had it not been for the BAK I’d probably never have stopped there. I also would probably have driven right past Tossed n Sauced Pizza if I’d been in my van, most likely hurrying to some fast food chain restaurant in Junction City or Abilene. But on the day that we biked through the town, we stopped in. It was a tiny place, but had some of the most welcoming folks anywhere. The cyclists weren’t supposed to be stopping in this town to eat, but our legs told us otherwise. The lady who ran the store was amazingly friendly, and spent a good deal of time talking to us about the BAK and what it meant to her little shop and their little town. They made sure that every cyclist in there got free water and ice in their hydration bottles and packs. They did their best to accommodate the voracious appetites of the cyclists who crossed their threshold, and they generally served up some of the most appreciated food on our trip. It was nothing extraordinary, but the food was prepared with care that somebody who takes pride in what they do exudes.

We spent far more time in there than we should have, our ride that day was nearly 90 miles, and we were barely 35 in, but it was time well-spent. We learned a little about the town. We learned a lot about the proprietor and her co-worker. We found a gem of a town, hidden just a few miles from the freeway.

As we saddled up and headed Eastward it got me to thinking about a real old Moe Bandy song “Americana” where he talks about life in these United States just off the interstate. Sadly, I didn’t have the song on my iPhone, but one of the first things I did when I got home was look up the lyrics to try and correct myself from the version that I sang for the next five days of our ride. But one section I had right kept coming up over and over:

As I left the two-lane road
And pulled back on that super highway
I thought of what I’d seen back in that town
And it hit me like a freight train
That a stone’s throw from the fast land
America is still safe and sound 

So for right now, my thoughts of BAK 2014 are wrapped up in the stories of the people that I met along the ride. It was a great experience, one that will never be repeated exactly the same, although I may ride again.

Let me just end with a link to Moe singing about an Americana that I’ve worried might be dissolving. After my ride, my faith has been restored.