Not all days are good ones

          What I thought would be an easy day turned out not to be.  I was off at a good time, 7:22,  but nothing but a power bar for engine fuel.. With each little railway station, I was hoping for a place to eat.  No such luck.  As I approach St. Charles famished, the skies grew darker, the thunder approached and the skies opened up. Thinking I was very close to St. Charles, I stepped on it but the thunder, lighting and rain ramped up so quickly that I found myself under a tall highway overpass soaked to the bone.  After the banging an crashing subsided, I rode the last mile feeling cold, tired and starved.  The only place open was this huge casino.  I was so chilled that I had to put on my fleece pullover when the A/C greeted me at the door. The place was a refrigerator.  I found a good place for breakfast and ate enough to feed two.  

      St Charles was not the place to be so I had to backtrack cross the Missouri River and head for St. Louis.  Goggle map directions were pathetic along with everyone else's.  Since entering Missouri, people's directions have been poor to terrible.  I rode an extra ten miles and found myself on a four lane road with no shoulder with early rush hour traffic. As I was bearing right at a light, a woman hit my extended flag and scared the hell out of me.  I caught up to her at the next light a gave her an attitude adjustment including a slam on her engine hood with my gloved hand.  She had just hit me and was indignate that I was giving her a what for.  I pulled over at the next safe turn off, we had a verb exchange and she called the cops.  She grazed me hard enough to put a mark on her shiny black finish.  I found that the impact had  broken one of the plastic ties holding my caution flag to my rear pannier rack.  Like New London, three squad cars showed up.  The officers listened to both

our accounts.  It didn't take much thinking for the police to realize that I was in the right.  Slamming her hood perhaps wasn't the best move but I made my point. Listening to her carry on was pathetic.  According to Missouri law, I owned the whole lane and it is up to the overtaking vehicle to safely pass me. Many people think bicycles shouldn't be on the road. Get a grip.  Anyways, being a bit shakened I diverted to a less traveled road to get to Cedar Groves where my father grew up.  I stopped at a very nice park thinking I just could handle anymore miles.  My cell phone was dead and I just wanted to find a seclude spot to pitch my tent.  It was illegal to camp even though I knew I could pull it off.  Nevertheless, I dug deep and rode to a nearby Wendy's to recharge my phone and grab something to eat.  Warmshowers.com was my only option and St. Louis was loaded with members.  Call after call went to voice mail, not an encouraging sign. Finally I was rescue when a member answered the phone and drove down to pick me up.

He took me back to a beautiful home which he and his wife had recently built. Scot and Babette treated me like a royalty.  A very nice bedroom and bath, almost too nice for this road weary guy.  They laid out a superb dinner including great local beer.  Scott went online and helped me map my route to Webster Groves as well as my route over the Mississippi and beyond.  This routing  including maps and written instructions.  These people are good people.  My house is their house.   

     Tomorrow, I will check out Webster Groves and hopefully find the houses My father and grandmother lived in.