Pueblo is the halfway point on the TransAmerica Trail, and inertia took a good hold on me. I spent another day there after the Angells left, grocery shopping, and working on the web site.

I spoke with the Hoelands (Amanda's parents) Friday evening. They are excited about progress Amanda is making with a bicycle loaned to her by her school. The specially designed bicycle supports Amanda's body while her feet are secured to the pedals, and her hands are secured to the handlebars.  The bicycle can be controlled from behind by means of a control bar.  Tom and Lee were amazed to find that, once she is given a start, Amanda has been able to pedal the bike for short distances by herself!

Lee e-mailed some photos of Amanda on the bike, and told me about a new therapy that is helping Amanda become more aware of what her body can do. Amanda has been able to stand upright while leaning against a wall for ten seconds at a time, with no support other than the wall. This is amazing progress for her!

Amanda's successes keep me going. I finally left Pueblo at 10:30AM on Saturday, August 14th. I'd had six total hours of sleep over the previous two nights. Not nearly enough, but I was on the road again.

About 10 miles out of Pueblo, someone in an old pick-up pulling a beat-up camping trailer threw an empty soda can at me- Orange Fanta, one of my favorites!- but missed. It's amazing how few incidents of this type I've experienced over the last 2,000 plus miles. The overwhelming majority of drivers have been patient and friendly. The truckers have been especially courteous and professional. But it will be nice to get out of Colorado and into Kansas, where, according to most TransAm cyclists, the people are the friendliest of all.

15 miles later, I stopped for a quick break, rolled my bike off the road, and leaned it against a fence. When I rolled it back on the road a minute later, I heard the telltale sound of air escaping from a tire. Leaning closer to hear which tire was flat, I could hear the "pssssssssssss" sound coming from both tires. I had found what the trail guide for this section called "Texas Tacks"- small thorns that easily penetrate tires and tubes. There were at least six thorns in each tire.

Fortunately, I had two spare inner tubes. Patching six holes in each would have taken a while. I also found a broken rear spoke while I did the change, and replaced that. Less than an hour later, I was rolling again, with a new lesson learned.

Around 6:30PM, I pedaled into Ordway, CO, where the map listed a hostel-type hotel. I found it after a few minutes of rolling around the medium-sized town (population 1248). Three women and a small terrier were in front of the Ordway Hotel when I pulled up. The terrier ran up to greet me. "Leave him alone, Onion", said one of the women. But Onion made me pet her for about five minutes before letting me go. Every time I stood up to try to go inside to register, she would move in front of me and lay across my path. I know what it's like to need attention, and I wasn't in a hurry, so I indulged Onion.

I was surprised when I finally got inside. What I thought would be a hostel room with a bathroom down the hall turned out to be a large, clean, airy hotel room with a queen-sized bed, an outside door where I could put my bike, and a huge bathroom with a tub and shower- for $30- maybe the bargain of the trip so far! In some places it costs $23 to camp!

One of the women who were in front of the hotel turned out to be the co-owner. She and her husband were friendly and affable, and we chatted for a while with the two other women before I went to my room to shower. One of the women asked me if I had plans for the evening. "We're looking for a designated driver", she told me.

"I think I can squeeze that in", I said, "but 9PM is usually my bedtime."

"We don't go out till 9:00, and we're planning to close every bar within 20 miles."

What did I have to lose, except a little more sleep. Besides. isn't a major part of this trip about actually meeting the people I encounter along the way, and not just waving to them from my bike? "OK", I said, somewhat sheepishly, then headed for the shower.

I could hear the women talking in the lobby as I dressed, but when I came out of my room at about 8:00, they were gone. Maybe I will get some sleep, I thought. I was working on the computer at 9:00 when I heard a car pull up outside my room. Maybe I won't get that sleep after all. The driver blew the horn, loud and long. Then a shout- "Are you coming?" I went outside to meet Christy, a pretty cowgirl in her mid-thirties with purple-striped hair driving a yellow Ford Escape. She drove like a maniac. I couldn't wait till she started drinking so I could take the wheel, even though I hadn't driven a car in over two months.

Our first stop was the Ordway VFW hall, where two other women were waiting. Michelle was one of the other women from in front of the hotel, maybe 40 years old, and still very attractive. I hadn't met Candace, yet. She was younger than the other two, I guessed around 30, with a beautiful face and a green cast on her right wrist.

Eight other people were also at the hall, most of them older men. There were quick introductions around the bar. Many of the men had questions about my trip, and also told me I was "in for a hell of a night!" I didn't have time to answer many of them- the women were ready to go. I had a Bud in front of me (I planned for it to be the only beer of the night), and I had put a $20 bill on the bar. But the women were already out the door. I asked the bartender if the twenty would cover a drink for everyone in the house. "You betcha", she said, so I went out the door after the women. (I think that $20 was the only money I spent that night. Every time I tried to buy a round later, the women refused to let me pay.)

The four of us piled into the Escape (it was actually Michelle's car), and with Christy still driving, we peeled out of the VFW lot and headed south like a bat out of hell. I tried to keep track of where we were going so I could get us back later. The CD player in the car blared the women's three favorite songs while we drove- "Why Does Everybody Want to Kick My Ass?", "I'm a Redneck Woman", (though these women didn't seem anything like rednecks to me), and "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy". They sang every song at the top of their lungs.

We were going to a bar in the next town to see a band that the women had seen the previous night. When we walked into the packed club, Christy let out a "whoop". Everyone in the place knew her, including the band. "Hey, Bob!", the guitarist called to Christy.

"Hi, Russ!" she responded.

"Why does he call you Bob?", I asked.

"It's for Big Ol' Bitch", she explained.

"Oh."

"Opal Moon", a four-piece band from Gunnison, CO , sounded pretty good to me. Russ was an excellent guitarist, and also played the fiddle. A female lead-singer played acoustic guitar. The bass player had a bass voice to go with his instrument, and a talented young drummer rounded out the group.

The women tried to drag me onto the dance floor, but I held onto my bar stool for dear life. I hate to dance. With six hours of sleep over the previous two nights, I was beyond exhausted, and I'm sure I was a total bore. But the women didn't need my help to have a good time, and I had fun watching them dance and listening to the band while I nursed my Diet Cokes.

During breaks, the women would come talk to me. I talked to Candace the most. I asked her how she got her cast. "I was going to hit my ex-boyfriend, but I hit the table, instead."

"Probably not a good choice", I told her. Candace is a real sweetie. She lives in Pueblo and drives to Ordway to meet the other two most weekends. She still lives with her ex-boyfriend- as "roommates"- she says.

Christy was "Miss Crowley County" of 1985, and she has most of it still. She was the wildest of the three- twice divorced, no kids. Michelle, also divorced, with two kids, spent a lot of time at the bar talking to her ex-boyfriend. "They still get along really well, and he's good to her kids", the others told me.

After a few hours, we left that place for another bar in another town. I drove, trying to keep my bearings straight so I could complete the triangle and get us back to Ordway, but the women seemed to be in full control of their faculties. The next bar was a huge place, but mostly empty. The band stunk. The women danced a while, then sat with me at the bar, and ordered breakfast- biscuits and gravy. Though I hadn't eaten dinner, I wasn't hungry (and I don't like biscuits and gravy), so I sat and talked with them while they ate.

I drove us back to Ordway. When we got there, Christy had a plan. Someone had stolen her city garbage can from in front of her house, and she knew where she could find a replacement. We stealthily pulled in front of a small house that sat far back from the road. I could see the huge can sitting in the driveway. Christy sprang from the car, but fell flat on her face in the yard about halfway to the garbage can. While the women laughed, I got out to see if she was OK. Before I could get to her, she was up and running again. She grabbed the can, and dragged it back to the car, where we tried to stuff it into the back. It hung way out, and Michelle and Candace tried to hang onto it from the back seat, while they both convulsed with laughter.

They dropped me off at the hotel and sped off, with Christy behind the wheel again. I slept well that night.

It was nearly 10:00AM by the time I was packed and ready to go the next morning. I stopped by the office on my way out. "Leaving so soon"?, the owner asked. "Christy and the others are planning to come by here to buy you breakfast." But I had to get going. I asked him to pass along my thanks, and rolled out of town.

I had a nice morning ride. Traffic was exceptionally light all day. At Noon, the wind picked up from ahead, and by 3:00, it was blowing 15-20 mph in my face. No services were open on the road on a Sunday, something to keep in mind for the rest of the trip.

Late in the day, I heard a rhythmic squeak from below, and stopped to check it out. My rear tire had developed a big bubble, which was hitting the brake arm on each rotation. I removed the tire and examined it. The threads had parted right on the tread. I didn't see any damage to the tire at that point, so it must have been some sort of manufacturing defect. I replaced it with one of my two spares, and moved on, reaching Eads, CO after 62 miles.

Monday morning, I fixed a quick breakfast, and was on the road by a few minutes after 7:00AM. I had a light tailwind for a while, a rarity on this trip, and I rolled along at 20 mph. Black-eyed Susan's lined both sides of the road, sometimes extending into the pastures as far as I could see.

The terrain here is wrinkled in spots, though the road is mostly flat. "Frost heaves", breaks and buckles in the road surface caused by repeated freezing and thawing of the ground beneath the road, were frequent and pretty bad.

I rode through the town of Chivington. It was mostly a ghost town, and reminded me of Bountiful, Texas, from Horton Foote's teleplay and movie. "The Trip to Bountiful." The only occupied house was right next to the Friends of Chivington Church. The pastor's house, maybe? But "Friends" is usually a Quaker term, and Quakers don't have pastors.

Every other building in town was abandoned and rotting. A beautiful brown brick building, maybe 1930's style, sat by the road, its roof collapsed.

I crossed into Kansas a little after 11:00AM. The road turned to silk. By Noon, I had made 55 miles, and crossed into Greely County and Central Time- the Midwest at last! The Black-eyed Susan's continued. I was later told that they were wild sunflowers, but they sure looked like Black-eyed Susan's, the state flower of my native Maryland, to me.

I stopped at a burger place in Tribune for lunch. A family at the next table asked me about my trip, and made friendly conversation. On his way out, the father gave me $10 for Amanda!

I stopped in the library for an e-mail check, then got back on the road. The wind had shifted to the southeast- from ahead and to my right. But I made good time, and pulled into Scott City a little after 7:00PM CDT, 105 miles for the day!

I checked into the athletic club, where they put cyclists up hostel-style. $12 if you use the pool and jacuzzi, $9 if you don't. Of course, for the extra three bucks, I indulged myself!

Also staying at the athletic club was Mike from Pittsburgh. PA. Mike left home on his bike, and rode through D.C. to Yorktown, VA, where he headed west on the TransAm. From Oregon, he planned to head south to California, and then to Texas. He met Jonathan from Johnstown, PA in Sebree, KY (at a church hostel that every west-bounder I've met has raved about), and they were cycling together until Pittsburgh, KS. There, in the city park, Jonathan ran into some trouble and got beat up by two thugs, who either got him drunk or drugged him and tried to steal his money. Mike was slightly injured when he stepped in to help Jonathan.

Mike stayed with Jonathan a few days while Jonathan recovered, and was riding a day or so ahead of him, expecting Jonathan to catch up soon. I made a note not to stay in the park in Pittsburgh, KS. This was the worst horror story I had heard since leaving home. Jonathan was lucky to have Mike as a guardian angel when he ran into trouble.

Mike and I talked and exchanged recommendations until 11:30PM.

A hybrid elevator.

After dinner, I went with Dan to take the dogs for a run. Dan and Eileen have three Golden Retrievers and a Lab, all gorgeous dogs. They were already in the bed of the truck when I came outside.

They say that the sense of smell has powerful connections to memory. But when two of the Goldens greeted me by each gently grabbing one of my wrists, I flashed back to my childhood bedroom in Baltimore, where our two Goldens would wake us kids in the morning by gently tugging us out of bed by the wrists.

We drove a short distance to a gravel road. Dan gave an "OK" to the dogs, and they leapt from the bed of the truck and bounded down the road ahead of us. Dan kept us a safe distance behind in the truck. The dogs reacted to the engine sound, speeding up or slowing down to maintain a constant distance ahead of the truck.

Bear, the Lab, stayed close to the center of the road. He loped easily along with a beautiful stride. When Dan hit the gas, so did Bear, kicking up so many stones that Dan had to slow down to avoid losing the windshield. As Dan backed off the gas, so did Bear.

I don't think we ever went more than 15-20 mph, but in the pitch black night, with visibility limited to the tunnel cut through the darkness by the truck's headlights, it seemed like we were barreling forward at breakneck speed. After a mile or so, we stopped, and with a single "truck" call from Dan, all four dogs leapt back into the bed of the pick-up.

Matt and Laura were just as fascinating, even outside the running across the country stuff. Laura spent some of her early years in Vietnam, where her father, David Shipler, was a correspondent for the New York Times. (The name was familiar. Laura talked about her father's latest book, about the working poor, but didn't mention his Pulitzer Prize for an earlier work.) She later lived in Jerusalem, among other places, and did some peace-building work in Thailand.

Matt's parents are from Argentina, and he still has family there. Earlier in their marriage, he let Laura go to Thailand for three years without him, which they both say strengthened their relationship.

Matt and Laura ran into George from Houston earlier in their journey. They also found him gruff on the surface, but found out how big his heart truly is when he made special arrangements for them at several places, and watched over them like a doting father.

Laura had borrowed Dan's pick-up the day before to run some errands, and loved it. She talked about driving into town with country music blaring on the radio, and the wind blowing her hair, thinking, "Yeah, I'm hot!" And I'm absolutely sure that she was right. When she got back to the house, she told Matt, "We're getting a pick-up when we get back from Rwanda!"

Their Rwanda plan is the most incredible story I've heard on this entire trip. You can read more about it, and even help, at www.crosstheusa.org

I helped Elaine see Matt and Laura off. Matt is pushing a jogging stroller loaded with gear as he runs, and Laura usually rides ahead.

I paid Elaine just before I left, and she gave a good portion of it back to me for Amanda. I'm sure she helped Matt and Laura, too. I hope she makes some money in her venture. She won't if she keeps giving it away. Her mission, she told me, is to try to help bless cyclists on their voyages, and that she does, in a huge way.

I rode off in the opposite direction as Matt and Laura, and passed through Alexander, just eight miles past Bazine, late Wednesday morning, August 18th. I continued east, with 350 miles of Kansas still ahead of me. If the first part of the state was any indication, the stories about Kansas having the friendliest people on the TransAmerica Bicycle Trail are true.