Happy Happy Joy Joy

I cried on and off as I prepared and left Larry on the corner of two intersecting highways to start the second phase of his journey; I had imagined all sorts of scary scenarios.  ‘If something bad happens, at least he’s doing what he loves,’ I reasoned.

Well, Larry is ‘bubbly’ when we talk.  You can hear it in the tempo of his speech, the positive twist to all his stories, and the grin from ear to ear if we FaceTime.

“The Road was Stolen,” he texted.

He spent his first night tenting next to Sand Springs Grocery and Gas.  A one building stop along an ever expansive highway.  He called the proprietress to inquire about camping and her hours.  She was closing in an hour, but he was two hours away.  She stayed for him to arrive.  She made him a pizza, gave him the key for the shower unit next to the shop and wished him a good night.

“Did you sleep well?” I text the following morning.

“I did, the neighbors were noisy, (the coyotes and great horned owl.)” he texted back.

“Those are the best neighbors,” I replied.

His second day of cycling was hampered by an ever present threat of storms and limited overnight resources.  He cut the day short and camped in Jordan, MT.

The same day I drove home from Billings.  I stopped prior to a blackening sky at the Chugwater rest area to pee myself and the dogs and check the weather radar on my phone.  A fellow traveler warned me what was ahead.  

Didn’t remember this cruise control tidbit. Great refresher.

Traffic had picked up, strange how that happened as we (dogs and I) came into the storm, motorists slowed to a crawl and put on their hazard lights.

The truck is still new to me and I couldn’t find the emergency flashers button.  

I pressed dial on the map screen.

“Hi honey,” I heard Larry answer on speaker.

“I’m in bad weather, tell me where the flasher button is located.”

“Right above the display, it’s a little button,” he answered.

“Found it.  Thank you.  Bye.”

“Mars?” He texted.

Larry’s third night, that would be last night, he spent in Circle.  This after a grueling day over terrains that reminded him of Mars landscape pictures.  He’d been warned by his new friend Paul, a neighbor who had recently traversed this area his-own-self.  I don’t recall the length he told me, but part of the road was missing, miles of dirt, winding up and down, described as a ‘ribbon.’

“I think my bike weighs 100 pounds,” he said, “that’s the bike plus the packs.” This was a confession, because he had argued his gear was well under my 75 pound comment previously.

“Miles and miles of wheat,” he told me, “there’s a combine in the photo.”

Entering the town of Circle, a resident yelled across the street and offered Larry a beer.  This fellow let him shower at his apartment and gave him a VFW coin for food.  They met again at the VFW building in town.  Per his call into the police station, and after they took his information, Larry camped at the city park.

Larry’s ecstatic, motorists have given him plenty of berth on the road, especially important when he doesn’t have a shoulder to ride on (I personally think Adventure Cycling need to update their travel maps), strangers have been most kind, and he’s sleeping like a baby.

I was worried about the unknown, which equals lack of control and is entirely selfish based.  What I see is a balloon around Larry, filled with cheer, contentment, and joy.  And as we’ve heard all our lives, ‘like attracts like,’ Larry’s balloon is doing just that.  He’s gonna be fine, no matter the outcome, because he’s in his element.  He’s Happy, Happy, and filled with Joy, Joy.  

And I can’t think of anything funny or snarky to write, because I’m happy for him too.

Circle, MT