Darla Klassen at Smash Hit Subs in Hillsboro, ND.
Darla Klassen at Smash Hit Subs in Hillsboro, ND.
Last Modified on 9/23/97 at 17:45:04
Day's Narrative: I Went to Perkin's Restaurant next door to the motel this morning just after they opened at 6 am. The sign said "Wait to be Seated." I did. No luck. I looked around and found the cook who said the waitress wasn't there yet and could I wait a few minutes. Well, I gave him my order so he could get started on the eggs and bacon. The waitress came in just as it was ready. It was cold this morning with a temperature in the low 40's (about 5C). I put on arm and leg warmers, and a windbreaker tightly closed at the sleeves and neck, and it was still cold. I should have worn fingered gloves instead of the cutoff bicycling gloves, but I thought my fingers would be OK. They weren't. My fingers were almost numb for the first hour until it warmed up some. I went on old US 81, which parallels Interstate 29. The first store was at Hillsboro, ND, 40 miles (65 km) away, and halfway to Fargo. There I ordered a submarine sandwich from Darla Klassen at Smash Hit Subs (see photo). I asked her about food farther down the road, since there hadn't been any stores so far. She assured me there were several from here on. She also makes a great submarine sandwich. Just after Hillsboro I came to fresh gravel and oil. The sign said "Road Work in progress, Next 8 Miles." The question was How fresh? Probably pretty fresh since three of the road crew were leaning against the oil truck talking. I asked them about the road. They said the left lane had just been finished, and the right lane had been done yesterday. This type of paving is done a lot out west. They put down a thick oil, then cover it with an inch or so of peanut size gravel, and then let the cars drive over it until they pound the gravel into the oil. One of the workmen said maybe three cars had been over the right side since they put it down yesterday. I rode out into it a short distance. The deep gravel made it impossible to ride in. I thanked the men and rode to the nearby interstate on-ramp and got on the interstate for the next eight miles. While on the interstate, the men with the oil truck passed me with a friendly toot and a wave. In Argusville, a small town of maybe 50 people, I stopped in a bar with no name, the only store I could find, and got a Coke. The bartender was friendly and we had a nice conversation about bicycling. He said he hadn't ridden a bicycle since he was a child. From there is was a short ride to Fargo. I found Connie at the motel at 2 pm. [Connie] I had made a reservation at the Days Inn the night before since it seemed to be one of the first large chain motels coming into town based on our growing collection of motel chain books -- i.e. Comfort Inn, Days Inn, Motel 8, etc. It was a breeze to register since I had gone through my standard request for "ground-floor, non-smoking room for 2 near an outside exit with an AARP discount" stuff on the phone the night before. The only hard part, and it is becoming a major twice a day hassle, is getting in or out of these buildings with an armload or two hand-loads of gear. I always said that God didn't give me three hands, but He gave me teeth. This doesn't work using teeth to haul heavy things or plastic key-open monstrously heavy doors. I've discovered that the bar of our bicycle carrier works great for propping heavy outer doors open while I haul stuff through. Yesterday Ray mentioned that the Midwest was a state of mind rather than location. Last night, as we went into a restaurant, a young man (18-20 or so) had come all the way out of the door, saw us and promptly turned around and opened the door for us. I almost said "Your Momma sure trained you right." Today as I was hauling our big box of weird stuff into the building, a little boy --10-12 or so -- asked if he could help me get stuff up the stairs. I said "Thanks, but I'm on the ground floor." On the severalth (a new word) load to the room door, another little boy who had just come up-- brother or cousin of the first asked if he could help. This chivalrous offer of help must have become so rare that I particularly noticed it. [Ray] The weather for the next couple of days looks a little weird, so I may only ride half days to avoid afternoon thunderstorms. Minnesota tomorrow! © Ray & Connie Poore, 1997
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