May 23-30

I'm not exactly sure just when it started. It was sometime after I crossed the McKinley Bridge from St. Louis into Illinois. As I was riding past the farms, agricultural businesses and wildlife preserves in the flat flood plains of the Mississippi and Illinois rivers, the song "Illinois" by Peoria native Dan Fogelberg started playing in my head. (Maybe because of his Illinois roots, Fogelberg — especially after his "Nether Lands" album came out in 1977 — was somewhat popular among my cohort when I was in high school.)

I've always thought it to be a sappy tune. Fogelberg said he wrote it after he had moved to Southern California and was feeling homesick.

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

Illinois, oh, Illinois, Illinois, I'm your boy

For me, having the song's chorus on repeat in my brain hasn't been about sentimentality for my home state. On the contrary, it seems it's been playing as a means for me to work out how to recapture and refocus some of the enthusiasm and excitement that has waned since I finished riding the Bicycle Route 66 portion of my journey, which required overcoming some excruciating physical and mental challenges.  After reaching St. Louis, I felt emotionally drained. Some of the letdown may have come from the way that portion of the ride finished — not by pedaling the last day to the Gateway Arch in celebration of completing the route, but by paying a couple of guys with a pickup truck to rescue me from a chilly day of downpours and drive me the last 35 miles to my hotel.

In the last week, as I was riding on or near the Great River Road in Illinois and Iowa, with an overnight stop in Missouri, I didn't seem to be thinking about much or taking in much. I got early starts (from 6:15 a.m. to 6:45 a.m.) so that I could have early finishes that would allow me to retreat to my hotel or motel room to rest and sleep and, possibly, revive some of my drive. Two of the days I had to ride in light rain, so that may have had something to do with just wanting to get the miles behind me.  However, I did enjoy stopping at the Pere Marquette State Park Lodge, where I stayed in a nice cabin.

I mostly just felt impatient to get to my sister Rita's place in Eldridge, Iowa, so I could take a few days off, see Susan (who arrived at Rita's on Friday), spend some time with family, sleep a lot and visit friends who have been so supportive since I started this endeavor. 

On Saturday morning, I felt like I was starting to come out of my funk. Rita's husband, Wayne Pacha, drove her and her bike to Muscatine, where I was staying. Rita has become an avid cyclist herself and came to ride the remaining 38 miles with me from my hotel to her home. She and Wayne arrived at 7 a.m. as planned, which allowed me to sleep in until 6 — past my normal 4:30 wakeup time — which gave me a bit more energy.

Seeing them lifted my spirits. 

Since Wayne was driving back, I put my bike bags in his car, which reduced my load by about 50 pounds. Rita and I set out on our ride that mostly followed Iowa Highway 22 along the Mississippi River. We then got on a bike path that led into Davenport, along a riverfront that the city has improved dramatically since I was a kid. We pedaled past Modern Woodmen Park, the classic baseball-stadium home of the minor-league Quad Cities River Bandits.  We passed the LeClaire Park Bandshell, prompting a few flashbacks from the Bix Beiderbecke Jazz Festivals I attended about 45 years ago. And Rita and I reminisced about our favorite radio station in the 1960s and '70s, KSTT, as we rode past its former building (over the years I've learned that KSTT was one of the most innovative radio stations in the country when we were kids). When we got to Davenport's East Village, Rita led the way as we climbed Jersey Ridge Road out of the river valley and out to the farm house where she and Wayne live in Eldridge.

As we pulled up to their garage, it was so great to see Susan come out of the house. I'd been without a kiss and a good hug since leaving Los Angeles on April 1, and hers felt so good. I was definitely feeling better. 

We didn't have much time to relax just yet, however. I had made arrangements to have my bike overhauled across the river at Wright Cycles in Moline, Illinois. After I got cleaned up, Susan and I put my bike in the back of Rita's mini SUV and drove to the bike shop. (They'll have it ready for me to pick up on Tuesday, and I'll be back on the road on Wednesday.)

Two of my favorite food places I try to visit when I come home — a Hungry Hobo sub-sandwich shop and the Country Style ice cream stand — were close by, so I persuaded Susan to get a sandwich and a shake with me. 

We took our lunch down to Moline's riverfront parkway and sat at a picnic table, watching excursion boats, recreational boaters and barges going by. Saturday evening, one of Rita and Wayne's sons, Nick, arrived after driving 2 1/2-hours from his home in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin, to see Susan and me. Nick works for Trek bicycles in Waterloo, Wisconsin. For dinner, Wayne impressed us with his smoker skills, treating us to a big platter of tasty spareribs.

On Sunday, the five of us got into Wayne's crew-cab pickup and drove to Huxley, Iowa, where Rita and Wayne's other son, Matt, recently opened a new business, Flight Bar and Grille, with his wife, Marianne. It was the first time Susan and I got to visit the business and meet Matt and Marianne's adorable 2 1/2-year-old son, Warren.

Later today I'm meeting up with high school friends who have been following my exploits through this journal and have been very supportive. It'll be great to see everyone.

So, I'm feeling better! I'm starting to look forward to the next leg of the ride, which will take me across Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, a corner of Pennsylvania, New York State and Massachusetts on a series of bike trails, paths and routes I've strung together in my planning. I tentatively set June 18 as the date I expect to arrive in New Bedford, Massachusetts — where my sister Lois lives — but that may be too aggressive a schedule. (There are a few 90-mile days I initially put on the master spreadsheet that, based on my experience so far, probably aren't realistic.)

One of the things I'm still trying to get better at is slowing down and indulging myself in the many things along the way that are worth taking the time to enjoy. As I've mentioned before, I have a tendency to get obsessed with getting from Point A to Point B — partly because I tend to feel guilty about how much self-indulgence I'm engaged in with this trip. My absence for eight weeks, with 3-4 more to go, has also demanded a lot from Susan, who has been holding down the home front while occasionally having to listen to my worries and complaints and respond to my various needs.

Since I've been here at Rita's, I haven't noticed "Illinois" creeping into my thoughts as much. I'll be happy to have it fade away. Maybe then I'll know it's time to get moving again.

For the uninitiated, here's "Illinois" and its lyrics:

Illinois

[For what it's worth, Fogelberg seems to have been confused about the time-zone and mileage differences between California and Illinois. He says they are three hours apart but it's only two; and Illinois is 2,000 miles east of California, not 3,000.]

Dusty day dawning

Three hours late

Open the curtains

And let the rest wait

My mind goes running

Three thousand miles east

I may miss the harvest

But I won't miss the feast

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

Illinois, oh, Illinois, Illinois, Illinois

South California your sun is too cold

It looks like your hills have been raped of their gold

I should have come out when I was first told

This lamb has got to return to the fold

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

Illinois, oh, Illinois, Illinois, I'm your boy

Flat on the prairies

Soil and stone

Stretching forever

Taking me home

'Cause I've got a woman who waits for me there

And I need a breath of that sweet country air

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

And it looks like you're gonna have to see me again

Illinois, oh, Illinois

Illinois, Illinois

Illinois, Illinois

Illinois, I'm your boy

Contact me: Thoughts or comments? Email me at richardridesusa@gmail.com.

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