Springfield, Illinois to Champaign, Illinois 92 miles and 1794 feet of climbing
At breakfast today, I noticed that the only open seat in the dining area was at a small table where Payton, our mechanic, was eating some yogurt. I sat down with my oatmeal and Bagle and said,
"Good morning Payton! I understand that this will be your last day with us today, as you are leaving the tour to go back to your regular job as a firefighter."
He said yes, that was correct. I asked him how he felt about leaving, and he said he had mixed emotions. He said he really enjoyed being on this tour ( I believe he has worked on this tour once or twice before), but he also understands that he needs to get back to his normal life. He recently bought a house here in Champaign. Payton can't be more than 27 or 28 years old.
He then said, "I'd like to ask you a question. Why is it exactly that you signed up to do this type of crazy ride again after doing it once before?"
I thought I'd explained that to him in our previous dinner conversation, but I'm sure my rant about the Crossroads Adventure Cycling Family Circus probably stuck in his mind more than my reasons for doing a ride like this again.
I told him that I enjoyed my first cross-country bike trip so much that I didn't want it to end. I said that, along with riding through the Rockies and the Sierras, seeing the middle of the country was one of my favorite parts of that 2019 trip. I said I enjoyed the lush green farmlands of the heartland and I especially liked the people I encountered here. To me, they seemed very friendly, down-to-earth, and unpretentious. All admirable qualities in my book. I also mentioned that I truly loved where I live in California, even though it is a very different place than here, and that the people are different in some respects as well. Not better or worse, just different.
I then asked him if our tour director would be adding a new mechanic to the tour for the last 3 weeks. He said probably not. No surprise there.
Today's ride to Champaign took us through pretty residential areas with manicured lawns, vast open fields of crops, vibrant small towns with churches right off the town square, and the bustling, industrial city of Decatur, Illinois. It is evident that Decatur's economy is largely based on industrial and agricultural commodity processing and production. Large semi trucks with cattle, crops, hay, and other livestock kept barrelling by us as we rode through parts of the city. But then, in what seemed like just a few turns later, we were back out in farm country. By that time, it was getting a little hot, so I was happy to see the outskirts of Champaign off in the distance as we rode the final 10 miles through fields of corn and other crops.
At the first SAG stop at 26 miles, Payton came up to me and said,
"I'd like to thank you for our conversation this morning. It caused me to reflect."
I said, "Reflect on what?"
He said, "Oh, about people and things, different places. You know I hang out with welders, tradesmen, and firefighters every day. What you were saying about different people and different places made me think. Like, I got an Uncle I sometimes visit in Orange County, Califonia. I mean, it's nice there, don't get me wrong. Good place to visit, but it's a lot different than here. That's for sure."
He had previously told me that through someone, perhaps his uncle, he had a shot at being a firefighter in Malibu. He said that for the price he paid for his house in Champaign, he could maybe get a single-wide mobile home there. I said that sounded about right to me, but I advised him not to reject that opportunity out of hand as the pension plan for first responders in Malibu might be pretty good. And the weather's not bad. Oh, and there's the beach, of course. He nodded but seemed at peace with his current situation in Champaign.
Payton used to work in a local bike shop here, and there were a few people who came out to cheer him and us as we passed by.
I remember this hotel, The Drury Inn, from 2019. My most vivid memory of this place, however, is the Five Guys Burger I had right around the corner. It was the first Five Guys Burger I'd ever had, and it hit the spot. Do you notice a pattern here? It seems like every one of my posts has a reference to some fast food. Part of that is due to the fact that after riding 90 to 100 miles, you need to eat,....fast. Hence, fast food. It's not like the Tour de France, where the cyclists have their own team chefs standing by cook them wonderfully healthy meals right after the race. We must rely on what is available close to the hotel.
Speaking of fast food, one of my close friends, Matt, emailed me to say that I should up my fast food game and try somewhere other than McDonald's. Yesterday's hotel had a McDonald's across the street and a Steak and Shake right next door. I had a decision to make. Do I stick with what I know? The always reliable McDouble, with fries and a Diet Coke, or do I go to Steak and Shake and order their version of the same thing. After a brief pause, considering how wise and learned Matt is ( they don't call him "The Great One" for nothing), I ventured into the Steak and Shake.
It was empty, and there was an overpowering smell of grease. Either they never clean the grill, or the fan over the grill was not working. Although I seriously considered walking out right then and there, I was so hungry that I decided to bravely forge ahead and try something new.
The young man working the grill and the cash register asked me what I wished to order. He not only had tattoos all over his arms and neck but also all over his face. I have nothing against tattoos, mind you, but I've rarely seen anyone with that many tattoos on their face. I found myself trying to make out some of the different sayings he had written on his forehead and cheeks as he looked at me, but I had to concentrate on putting my order in. He not only took my order, he cooked it and then brought it out to me when it was ready. A good guy doing his job. The burger and fries were ok, but unfortunately, the strong smell of grease from the grill forced me to leave before I finished.
Today at the very end of the ride, the McDonald's that my fellow rider Mark and I went into did not smell of grease, and my McDouble and fries tasted amazingly similar to the one I had back in Quincy. Or was it Kirksville? Or Topeka? Or maybe it was Great Bend, Kansas. Come to think of it, it was all four of those places, and that's the point. God bless America.
One other fun fact for all you McDonald's haters. In whatever country they hold the Olympics, name the restaurant in the Olympic Village that is always the busiest with a line out the door. I'll give you a hint, it ain't Steak and Shake.
We have a day off tomorrow. I asked Payton, who lives here, what there is to see and do in Champaign. He smiled and said,
"Well, they looked it up, and I guess the public library is nice."
Tomorrow, I will wash my bike, eat eggs and bacon for breakfast, have 2 cups of good coffee or maybe an expresso, and most importantly, write an entertaining, wildly funny blog post because my close friend Matt requested I do so. Admittedly, that is a tall order, but I promise to give it my best.
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