We think we're pretty close to meeting the needs of the second village.
We've been thinking, however, that the real adventure will start when we get into Iowa and don't know people anymore. In fact, the real adventure so far has come in meeting people along the way. So far they've been really nice (well, most of them: it seems like some people are wired to instinctively yell out some profanity each time they pass someone on the side of the road. It's proven entertaining. Ignorance is always bliss--and sometimes for those observing, too.).
Sam, for example, was a man who came up to us and asked if we needed some water. We had just finished climbing what might have been Ohio's biggest hill (about 25 yards long, not more than 50 feet high ;) and were stopping to call our next host and double check our route. We gladly agreed, even though we were running late. Sam came out with a green glass pitcher of cold well-water and filled up our bottles. It was good water. He also brought out a block of mozzarella cheese and a few bananas. He said we could stay as long as we wanted. I was pleased. We got to talking and came to found out that Sam was threw Tomahawks. I was more pleased. It didn't take much prodding to get him to grab them and take us out back into a clearing in his woods. He had three or four Tomahawk targets set up (depending on what you call a target; for example Andy insisted he was not a target, though I sometimes thought differently). He started tossing the Tomahawks--wwwhhhishhh, thunk. "You just have to let them slide out of your hand," he told us. And handed us the Tomahawks.
He was a pretty trusting guy. There might have been a look of regret on his face when Matt threw one at Andy. Luckily they weren't that sharp. It hit him in the leg and bounced off with only a minor bruise. Wait. What I meant to say was that, for a second, when Matt was pretending to throw the Tomahawk at Andy, Sam wasn't sure what to think. There we go. Nevertheless, we all ended up learning how to throw the Tomahawks swimmingly. A good time was had by all.
In Lima, OH we stopped for a festival--not something we usually do. Too much stopping guarantees that we ride after dark. And we did--ride after dark, that is. But not until we were vigorously warned not to go into "[Joe's Gyros]that F---ing place that charges $5 for an F---ing Gyro. No, go a block to the right and make the first right and you'll see a Kewpee. They've got the best D--- Hamburgers in Ohio. And all the beef is grown locally. None of that processed S---!"
I told him thanks. And mentioned that I couldn't have said it better myself. (I mean why do people use big words? Most of the time others don't even know what they mean. On the other hand, swear words grab peoples' attention. So I figure if you've got one or two swear words in each sentence you're bound to make people pay attention to at least half of each sentence. It's common sense. Come on now people.) I mean I'm not a fan of mass produced meat either. I mean unless it's right in front of me. (Don't worry Tyson, in good time I will cause you to change your ways.)
And off to Kewpee we went. I really had to pee. And they had a restroom! Well, or so it seemed. Turns out the Men had to use the bathroom outside. And by outside I mean in the parking lot. They expected the men to pee in the parking lot. Well, not really, but I did think they meant that. A lady at the drive through informed me that that's not what they meant--and one of the workers quickly came outside and showed me the bathroom: a small, freezer-looking, metal door that I had mistaken for, well, a freezer upon first glance. Nope. And as the employee informed me, the bathroom used to service only the minority folk. The building was built back in the 1920's--back when it was popular to physically illustrate your disdain for those with minority status. It was just a little hole in the wall. I mean do human beings in the minority of the population of a certain place deserve to breath the same air? Or be in the same space?
We haven't been to too many places that actively think so.
And one more story before I need to go eat again.
We were stopping for lunch again--by this point we just started asking people to sit under their trees while we ate. This couple invited us in. They fed us melons. They showed us their dogs. They pointed out that beer tastes really good. I wondered if I would still get into Heaven if I agreed. Then I wondered if my school would kick me out. Turns out I just graduated, and, having just spoken with God about the meal, remembered that he had mentioned some European monks in the 1100's who lived on their own brew. And so, after what probably seemed to her like a long, awkward pause, I agreed. I then proceeded to take a swig of the beer that I keep in my water bottle on long, hot, humid rides. Well. No. That part isn't true. But it is sort of funny to joke about when you've grown up in conservative evangelical circles.
And then. They showed us their dogs. Bob and Baby. Bob and Baby are dogs that compete nationally--and in prestigious competitions, no less. They compete in the long jump and the high jump, I believe. They've been on television. They're high rollers in the dog world, if you will. Basically it was like having Ben Roethlisberger come up and start licking your leg, arm, and face because you were giving him attention. Or because you were watching him perform. I wasn't quite sure which one caused Bob and Baby to treat us with such hospitality. I guess I'm not sure why Ben does things like that either...
They were quite well trained, too. The couple had a man-made pond in their back yard. They had a dock that had a ramp from the edge of the pond into the middle and then turned right and left for about 10 feet each way. The dogs would start by picking up a throw-toy, bringing it to whoever was nearest, wait for them to throw it in the pond, and sprint up the ramp and across the rest of the dock before jumping as far as they could towards the toy in the water. They promptly swam to the shore, brought the toy back to whoever threw it last time, and repeated the process. This happened several times in a row. This happened several more times in a row. This happened more than several more times in a row. The dogs did not stop. It was literally a circle. One part running, the other swimming. I continued to eat melon and Sam's cheese. Nothing could have been more entertaining...not even for Ben. OK. Enough with the Ben jokes. I'm going to eat now.
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