Another day, another nowhere small town

       Weaving my way through narrow country roads was the route for the day.  I crossed the stateline into Indiana.  Mile upon mile of corn and soybean fields with occasion farm houses and barns dotting the landscape.  Birds chirping, tiny frogs hopping across the road and the sound of my spinning tires.  Rolling along in this idyllic setting is mesmerizing; a good setting for some meaningful poetry.

     As I stopped at a bike path leading into Royal Center, my odometer read sixty-four miles and the temperature was in the high eighties.  I took the path and drifted into a shell of a former prosperous town.  The automotive industry had moved out,  leaving this small to suffer a slow death.  This fair trade world we live in is doing nothing for small town America.   The big multinational companies win, the little guys get thrown to the curb.

         I stopped at what looked like the only prosperous place in town, the town bank.  Asking the receptionist where there was a place to stay for the night, the bank manager stepped up to the plate and offered his place.  Everywhere I ride, the people are friendly, trusting and always willing to help. This is the second time in two days I have been offered a place to stay by a well dressed respectable stranger. 

      Jess Robinson left work to take me to his home and get me set up.  After work he told me that the church across the street is having  a free dinner at 6pm.  Everyday brings with it a new adventure.