Summary

Margie Willis recounts her challenging yet rewarding experience of cycling across the USA, detailing the physical toll, the beauty of the countryside, and the kindness of strangers.

Abstract

Margie Willis shares her adventurous journey of biking across America, highlighting the grueling 75-mile days, the physical strain on her body, and the exhilarating moments of euphoria. Despite facing aches, pains, and fears, such as navigating narrow bridges and steep hills with heavy traffic, she remains undeterred. Margie's encounters with locals and the stunning landscapes provide a rich tapestry of American life, prompting deep conversations about dreams and aspirations. Her narrative captures the essence of her cross-country trek, emphasizing the resilience of the human spirit and the warmth of American hospitality.

Opinions

Margie expresses pride in her physical achievement of riding 75 miles in a day, her longest distance at that point.
She acknowledges the fear and danger involved in cycling on narrow roads with heavy traffic, particularly when encountering large trucks.
Despite the challenges, Margie finds the experience euphoric, indicating a strong sense of accomplishment and joy in the adventure.
The author has a humorous outlook on her journey, as evidenced by her willingness to eat at a place called the "Doggie Dung Diner" after a long day of cycling.
Margie is deeply moved by the stories and experiences shared by the people she meets, viewing these interactions as a highlight of her trip.
She has a positive perspective on the physical pain and scares she encounters, considering them part of the priceless experiences of her journey.
The nickname "MISERY" for Missouri reflects her apprehension about the upcoming terrain and conditions she expects to face.
Margie values the beauty of the countryside and the changing clouds, suggesting an appreciation for nature's diversity.
She sees her journey as a catalyst for others to reflect on their own dreams, whether realized or not.
The use of her childhood signature "M-flower" indicates a sense of nostalgia and continuity in her adventurous spirit.

7. Oh, My Aching Posterior!

doing my first seventy-five-mile day . . .

What I was doing out there, riding my bicycle across the USA, provoked people to delve into their own dreams while talking to me. It was a real taste of America.

After peddling seventy-five miles yesterday, I would’ve been happy to eat at the Doggie Dung Diner!

Tuesday, August 7, 1990 . . . (one week on the road)

Dear Tommy,

Hi! How ya be? About sick of receiving these silly letters? Too bad! I tried to give you a few days off, but too much has happened. I won’t be able to remember it all if I don’t write it down soon.

You can share this with anybody you please and put it into the album for posterity.

Speaking of posterity . . . or is that POSTERIOR? I kicked butt yesterday. OH, MY BUTT!!! I rode seventy-five miles . . . my furthest day so far!

A gorgeous day for riding, I pedaled from Bloomington to Petersburg, Indiana. There was some “hilly” stuff at first, but I soon got onto a “roll”. There was smooth, newly-paved road with a generous shoulder.

Oh yeah! A tailwind, too! What more could I ask for? I was overcome with euphoria. Yesterday may have been euphoric, but today is the plague of aches and pains.

I started out with a bum knee and lots of hills to torque it out. After thirty-five miles, I thought the pain in my knee was gonna ease up and then I got a muscle spasm in my back. I couldn’t move. I had to drop my bike.

So, I stopped to write you this note, to relax and see if I can get rid of all the tweaks in this old body of mine. (I was thirty-four at the time).

Two more days and I’ll be in Carbondale, Illinois and I’m gonna relax and camp for a couple days. I’m writing this from Mount Carmel, Illinois.

I just crossed a very long, very narrow bridge across the Wabash River. I was scared shitless!!! It reminded me of Tom Ingraham’s friend, Clark, getting “splatted” on a bridge.

A truck came up behind me and there was “minus clearance” . . . WHEW!

But the ultimate in “nerves of steel” was yesterday. I’ve been practicing letting her go “full out” downhill with no brakes. It’s hard to let the speed build with such a heavy load and so much momentum.

Yesterday I was on a windy, hilly country road, not even four inches of shoulder and a four-inch drop-off at pavement’s edge. I was going “balls out” when two semi trucks passed, going in opposite directions. Just at the point where they crossed, we were all shoulder-to-shoulder.

There we were, three abreast and I must’ve been going thirty miles per hour. I nearly shit!

Everybody asks: “Aren’t you afraid of the weirdos?”

Hell, that’s the last thing on my mind, next to such hair-raising predicaments as narrow bridges and steep hills with no shoulders, no clearance, and big-ass wind-blasting trucks.

That’s about all the whining for now. Besides the aches and pains and scares, I’ve had some priceless experiences and I’ve seen some gorgeous countryside.

I stayed in Petersburg, Indiana last night and it was ripped by tornados this summer. I don’t know which is more fascinating, listening to the town folk describe the experience with the full whites of their eyes showing . . . or seeing a forest of trees all snapped off, all at the same level, about thirty feet above ground.

No exaggeration! About fifty trees were broken and shredded, with down limbs connected by strings of bark and wood!

I often asked locals where to find a good restaurant and some fella recommended the “Fish Hut.” I had my doubts about a place in the middle of Indiana called the “Fish Hut” (far from sea) but after riding seventy-five miles, I would’ve eaten at a place called the “Doggie Dung Diner”!

As I approached, I saw the sign: Fish Hut Pizza.

Believe it or not, delicious country home cookin’ was mine to be scarfed!

I can definitely see the prairie influence down here now. It’s nice. Most of the hills are gradual and even the headwind isn’t too grueling. But I’m still dreading Missouri. I don’t think it will be so merciful.

Cyclists nickname the state of Missouri . . . MISERY.

It’s pretty country, though, and the clouds are always changing and making nice patterns. The people, by far, are the best part of this experience. They are so caring, so encouraging, so concerned, and so friendly.

I love to stop at little out-of-the-way places and drink a soda while some isolated talkative hick carries on. I’m usually too tired and too thirsty to give ’em much competition . . . believe that or not!

So, I just let these animated folks climb up on their soap boxes and tell me all about their little lives and their big dreams. What I’m doing, riding my bicycle across the USA, seems to provoke people to delve into their dreams, realized or not.

These impromptu chats were the real taste of America.

Well, my back feels better now, so I’m gonna go see if I can put on a few more miles today. Please make sure to send a copy of this letter over to Terry Tully, okay? Thanks!

See you in a month and a week. Can’t wait!

Love, M-flower

(I’ve used this signature all my life, starting in third grade).

My Cross-Country Bike Trek

by Margie Willis

margiewillis.medium.com