October 22nd, Day 13
There is something spiritual about a Nebraskan sunrise, and seeing it through the grass only gave me a better perspective. Maybe the simple things in life really are the sweetest.
Peeking out from under the covers, I watched the sun wake up the Great Plains with its radiant orange rays. Yet it was the mixture of morning dew and chilly prairie air that really woke me up. Within minutes, I was up and at it.
It wasn’t long before I lost sight of the Black Hills, and returned to the blond grasslands that I had been combing through previously. These fields were a little more flirtatious than the previous lands, and seemed to show off their curves. They required a little more time and energy, but at least they were a little more stimulating.
When I finally made it Rapid City, I did what any man would do- I went to find a sandwich. Then, when my belly was full and there was nothing but crumbs and wrappers in front of me, I went to find a bike shop.
Despite the tune up in Scottsbluff, my bike kept shedding spokes. This was more than likely my last opportunity to visit a bike shop before I rode out the last 300 miles to my journey, so it was now or never.
When I arrived at the shop, the mechanic who worked there promptly informed me that the guy in Scottsbluff put on the wrong size spokes.
“It’s a nice patch” he said, “but it’s just about as reliable as a drunken babysitter. Now, I don’t know if you have kids, but considering your journey, I’d suggest swapping it out.”
He seemed to be speaking from experience, so I let him do his thing. I was busy trying to get some financing.
With this unexpected repair bill, I was going to need to shine my Bat Signal to the sky, in hopes that my super hero friends would run to my aid, and loan me a couple bucks. I had enough to pay for the repair and buy food for the next couple days, but I was starting to scrape bottom.
When everything was spinning true, I left to go get a better view of the city. Every street corner seemed to be dressed with a statue, so I figured I’d get lost for a while. On top of that, Jeff, the guy who worked on my bike, told me that behind the shop, there was a new mural that I might like.
He was right- the whole ally was filled with art! I knew exactly which mural he was talking about though. Slithering twenty feet up the wall, a menacing black snake, with heartless red eyes, and oil dripping from its fangs, stared at me.
A condor attacked it from one side, while a horse backed Indian ran at it from the other. Off to the side, a powerful Kachina waged war with his dance, and above it all, the words “500 Nations Stand With Standing Rock. No Dakota Access Pipeline” were inscribed.
It was a truly an epic scene, but I knew it wasn’t the only one, so I continued on. It seemed like the town was filled with art! A council of statues like the streets. After I passed about a dozen bronze presidents before I decided to call up Philana. I hadn’t heard from her in a while, and was curious as to how she was doing.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t talk long. Things were getting crazy at camp, and people were getting arrested all around her. The Morton County Sherriff’s department, as well as the National Guard, were both there in full force, and more than willing to empty a couple cans of pepper spray on the crowds.
“Hey, can I call you back later?” Philana asked. “Things are getting a little crazy out here.
“Yea, absolutely; do what you’ve gotta do! Just be safe. I love you!”
“I love you too.” she replied.
Both comforted by hearing her say she loved me, and disturbed by what was happening, I stood on the corner speechless, and prayed.
To be honest, I hadn’t prayed this much since I was in youth group as a young teen, on fire for the Lord. Things had changed a lot since then, and even though I didn’t subscribe to any one religion any more, I did sense that there was something more grand than chance, orchestrating this existence. And whatever it was, couldn’t be put in a box.
The sun was starting to set again, so I hopped back on my bike and started riding.
Yet no more than two hundred yards later, I had to stop. There was something magical about the golden hued trees that hung over the nearby river and I could hear the river calling my name. So I parked my bike against a tree, and contemplated the mysteries of life on the riverbank.
When the glow had faded, my stomach started quaking, beckoning me to another grocery store. A bushel of apples, some grape nuts and a bag of bagels later, I was out of there, darting off into the night.
My lights felt dim in comparison to the street lights that guided me out of town, and within a couple miles, I found that to be problematic.
My touring rig was clearly not the most luminescent thing on the road. All I had were a dinky headlight and taillight, to guide my way. I had strapped a lantern to my trailer too, and figured between the three of those, I’d be somewhat safe.
As I exited Rapid City on Highway 90, I got the feeling that the other drivers didn’t feel the same way. Blasting past me, with roaring horns, the traffic started to feel more and more threatening. Yet there wasn’t anything I could do. I’d just have to grit my teeth, hug the shoulder, and pray to see tomorrow’s sunrise.
Underpasses and bridges were the worst. With a hefty wind pushing everyone around and a tiny shoulder to maneuver, I was brushing up against death along the guardrails. Wedged between the unstoppable wall of a semi-truck gusting pass me, and a twenty foot drop into a river, I was riding a thin line between dead and done for.
It was ridiculous. (Please don't tell my mother)
Luckily the traffic thinned out the farther I went; soon enough I was safe again. All the adrenaline seemed to be making me hungry though, so I dropped into New Underwood for a snack.
The gas station attendant was impressed by my story, so she gave me a free personal pan pizza to munch on while I recharged. She even hooked it up with a second pizza when she started to close down.
Refueled and reenergized, I dipped back into the night; I was finally on the last stretch! The constellations above me lit up the winding road below, and somewhere in between, I traveled.
Eventually I pulled over for a quick break. I needed a breather, and really wanted to hear Tubby Love and The One Tribe Movement sing “We are in this together” one more time, before I continued on. Surely that would inspire me to ride another dozen miles.
Yet, by the end of the song, all I was inspired to do was to clutch a fistful of blankets.
Thanks for tuning in!
Previous Chapters Include-
Introduction- Igniting the Fire at Unify
Day 1- Indigenous People's Day
Day 2 - Musical Mantras
Day 3 - Bottling My Prayers
Day 4 - Glorious Heights
Day 5 - Inner TurmOil
Day 6 - Massive Strides
Day 7 - Sunset Stallions
Day 8 - Wind River
Day 9 - Storms and Thorns
Day 10 - The Green Gospel
Day 11 - Prayers for Pine Ridge
Day 12 - The Cattle Choir
The Story Continues...
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http://www.righteousendeavors.com