On to Kansas

So long Missouri, after Wednesday's loooooong (71 mile), hot (tho not
quite as uncomfortable -- lower humidity, maybe?) ride from Ash Grove
MO to Pittsburg ("Cleverly Dropping the Unnecessary H, and Thereby
Saving Hundreds of Taxpayer Dollars a Year on Printer Toner") KS. As
we approached the border the terrain flattened out, the roads became
arrow-straight for miles on end, and a strong, steady wind made its
presence felt -- almost like we were in Kansas.

For most of the day the wind was from the south, so not directly a
headwind on our generally westward route, and you could even kind of
tack into it a little. In fact, at one point we took a jog directly
north for about 5-6 miles, and fairly flew into Golden City MO (pop.
884), home of the famous Cookys Restaurant, a legend among Trans-Am
route bikers for its pies, of which there must have been 15 varieties
available. I had blackberry, with a healthy scoop of ice cream and a
cup of actual coffee -- nectar and ambrosia. This middle-of-nowhere
place was packed at 10:30 on a Wednesday morning, a fine example of a
great business model: offer a really good product and people will find
you.

Another very positive feature of the ride was the detour that wasn't
(*) -- a 6-7 mile stretch on either side of a highway overpass under
repair that was closed to cars but passable for us 2-wheelers. It
wasn't a very busy road, before and after the detour (there aren't
many people around, and not many places to go -- we're talking wide
open spaces here), but still it was great to not have to be concerned
about traffic AT ALL for a chunk of miles.

We landed at an EconoLodge (A/C! pool! next door to a good Mexican
restaurant!) in Pittsburg ("Yes, I Suppose We COULD Drop One of the
T's, Too"), KS, home of Pittsburg State University, and other less
obvious charms as well, I'm sure. On our rest day that followed (Yay!)
I rested (and laundered, and patched a tube, and cleaned my chain),
and except for a brief foray across the street to get a sub for lunch,
and a few blocks' stroll in the evening for pudding at Freddys Frozen
Custard, I never left the EconoLodge's friendly confines. A fine day,
in other words.

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(*) Hugh missed the sign Michael placed, telling us to ignore the
detour, so he took it and tacked on an extra 12 miles to his ride, and
an extra hour to his riding day. If it had been me, I would have been
really pissed; Hugh came in laughing about it.