The Carbondale Capers

Every road I ride, I see the same two things, cocked heads and dropped jaws. I still get a giggle out of it sometimes, but for the most part I’m non-reactive. One of my favorite parts of being out here is feeding my introversion. Many of the roads I ride on are in the country, away from anybody save the occasional tractor.

Shannon, my couchsurfing host, had a stressful workday ahead of her. So, I went out to visit the local bike shops. Three bike shops, all on one street. They all have their individual flare. But I was on a mission; my bike shorts were beginning to rip apart at the seams. I needed to find some new ones. Phoenix Bike Shop provided; they provided great customer service and even offered me a deal on my shorts. After my ride, I returned to Shannon’s place to catch up on sleep. When she finished work, she took me on a tour of the co-op, international food store and music shop. We visited Longbranch Coffee House, only to find Zack from the day before. He had planned to ride through the storm outside into Murphysboro.

We found out that Alex and Iris from the previous couple days were staying with Shannon’s brother. So we all got together, and hung out. Small world. Shannon retired and Alex made delicious pasta. Patrick, Shannon’s brother, had some friends over. A few I had already met the previous evening. We all talked and had a few beers. And eventually I was given a ride back to Shannon’s for the evening.

I woke up and procrastinated all morning; I was getting to comfortable in Carbondale. Eventually, I started riding towards Murphysboro to pick up my map. I end up holding myself up so long, that I get a ride from a girl named Nancy to the post office at the last minute, so that I’m not grounded for the weekend. I get back to Carbondale, and before I start south towards Cape Girardeau, I figure another stop at Longbranch is order. My iPod is nearly dead, and I didn’t have the time to really experience my first run over. We had ice cream melting in the car.

I met the owner Elane, and complemented her on her shop. She liked what I was doing so much she fed me lasagna, and a salad. Delectable. I talked with another man named BJ, and he strongly recommended that I stay with his relatives down at Rustle Hill Winery. I take him up on the offer, and I start riding south.

When I arrive, there is music playing in the amphitheater, and lots of people. I go and sit at the bar. Immediately I find Jenny, she offers me some wine. I choose their Chambourcin, a dry red. I also sample their bruccetta. As they start to clean up for the evening, I go outside and make conversation with some delightful people, and have another glass of wine. The Rustle’s take me back and let me sleep on a bed in their basement. In the morning, I’m fed breakfast and put back on track toward Cape Girardeau.

After passing over the Mississippi River and entering my fourth state. I meet three lovely women and they show me cup and cork, a coffee and wine bar. I realize that my tire is rapidly loosing air. They give me a ride over to Cape Cycle, and after and hour or two of messing around, I figure out that my previous patch had given out. I suppose that’s why its called a patch, because it’s not meant to be ridden on a thousand miles.