HRH's Birthday and London Closing Ceremonies but I'm not done yet

We had a lovely day yesterday with HRH and her daughter, the mother of little hrh, getting our nails done, a Panera fix and lots of laughs. That is what I missed with HRH riding off on her own in Ragbrai. Yeah, it was great to be able to swoop in with the 18-wheeler and snatch her up when she reached her limit. But there was not a lot of laughing after Wednesday morning. I sincerely doubt I could ride with her even if this exercise diet plan of mine works out but wouldn't it be fun?

So, as I watch the taped delay of the London Closing Ceremonies, I thought I would wrap up this tale. I have to say CaDiva cried over John Lennon and I smiled when Freddie led the audience posthumously in a recreation of his chant from LiveAid. This was the only moment I felt came close to KD Lang at Vancouver two years ago.

I told you about Not-Hank having to go wheels up. What I didn't tell you is that TWC pushed her much of the last few miles. HRH held up a couple of times to let them catch up to her but they kept telling her to go on. That was kind of sad too because I hoped with her youth and fitness combined with a sort of lackadaisical training plan, Not-Hank would be riding along with HRH. I still think the two of them would have had a lot of fun pedaling across Iowa. I knew TWC would be straining at the bit if he felt he had to hang back with them since he is the only experienced rider. But, there is always next year.

We all learned a lot. CaDiva and I will be looking for hotel rooms and most likely renting a trailer for the Highlander to haul the bikes. We also think we'll get a bike for me and a scooter for CaDiva so that we can get out of the Highlander and tour with HRH in the car-free areas. Not-Hank plans on a more rigorous training season. But TWC said he thinks he might bring the kids. It wouldn't be the first year for his son. I still want to see the pictures of the two-year old TWC II tooling around the towns.

HRH learned she didn't rest nearly enough in the pass through towns. She rested only long enough to swig water and then took off again. I remember when her daughter learned to ride a bike she only had two speeds, full-out and fall-down. I think that is how HRH took on Ragbrai 2012. This is another reason I think it would be better if I or maybe my niece (she is young and could probably be bought with a promise of a Mega-girl trip to a mountain, ocean or casino) paired up with her. HRH won't slow down for herself but she would for one of us and then she would stand a chance at finding the pie and pasta.

As it was she still made it to St. Anthony. If she had pushed past there, not only would we have not been able to get to her, but she was at the beginning of a 700 foot elevation making the last twenty miles the hardest of the entire trip. She did make it almost 62 miles, as proven by an odometer so weary it appears blurry in this picture.

When we last heard from her, she was tired but passing through Zearing. I asked her if she wanted us to come get her or to go wheels up. She said neither. Meanwhile, TWC caught up with us in Marshalltown and the four of us started to talk about killing two hours til she got to Marshalltown.

TWC loaded his bike up in the trailer, we started to think about food. CaDiva and I were the only ones who had eaten and that was at the last Casey's we stopped at (and I do mean the LAST Casey's.) Not-Hank had already set her priorities, which was to have CaDiva and I sit on either side of her in the back seat so she would have soft, gooshy places to fall asleep against.

TWC was recommending the original Maid-Rite. That would have been fun. You should go there before the Health Department eventually closes it down. The Taylor Maid-Rite serves loose meat sandwiches as they were meant to be eaten, which is not exactly up to current standards. But no one has died and so I don't have a problem with it. Besides we didn't want to get too far from downtown as HRH would still want to see the giant red solo cup.

But just about that time we got a few failed phone calls from HRH that ended with a simple two word text, "I quit." I think I startled TWC with my change in perspective. I was fairly amenable to all plans up to this point. Now I was in full-out big sister mode.

I told him, She is Here how do we do this? He picked up on my need and went to the road map. He said, if she stays right where she is we only have to intersect the route there. Ok, I texted back to HRH, "We are on our way." The only problems we encountered were my missing sense of direction and the riders who appeared between us and HRH. He suffered the tortures of the damned, driving along side the cyclist.

I explained, in a calm and soothing tone, HRH was at the bottom of this county road and the cyclist would pull over ... DRIVE. Again, TWC picked up on my sense of urgency. He didn't like it, but I think I was scarier than the Ragbrai God.

Well, we never got to see the giant Solo Cup, which, as it turned out, was nothing like I thought it would be.

But, we also got back to the Highlander in Webster City and, from there, to the Village Inn in West Des Moines just in time to eat pie before the biggest blow the state had seen all summer: drenching downpours, gale force winds, trees down, tents evacuated and Little River Band canceled.

All things considered, a very successful first Ragbrai, if you ask me.

HRH, TWC and Not-Hank are off...

Well we finally got the 18-wheeler on the road and TWC was absolutely right about the traffic. We edged along with little concern we were headed in the right direction since we were surrounded by buses, trailers, campers, and all manner of vehicles bolted to bicycle racks. It was slow but steady as we eased along ever closer to the "support crew" route. CaDiva was in the shotgun seat while I gripped the steering wheel like it was the last cup of Dunkin Donut's coffee in a sea of Starbucks. I was actually doing ok until I realized the Interstate entrance was in the away-from-my-watch lane. 

Ok, I can deal with this. I'm in a HUGE-ASSED SUV with a trailer slightly larger than my first apartment and the only view behind me is from the things they hang on the outside of the car. How should I know how to use those, I never actually looked in one before. I'm used to seeing behind me in the rear view mirror.  Or at least being able to ask CaDiva, "How's it look over there?"

Then I hear a sort of low hum and realized CaDiva, having rolled down her window, is hanging out the car having a conversation with someone out... you know ... there....beyond this behemoth I'm holding to my lane by sheer force of will and my butt cheeks. "Excuse me?" she says with her butter-don't-melt-in-her-mouth, "Can you let us in? This is our first year and we never drove one of these things before." Then she turns back to me with a little grin and says, "Go ahead."

Go ahead? She got a stranger to give us pie yesterday and today she gets someone to hold back the hordes while I slide the 18-wheeler into the next lane over. I do not know why I waste her powers on piddling pies and parallel lane changes. Surely there is some sort of modern-day  John Beresford Tipton, Jr who is just waiting for someone to ask him for $8.33 million dollars. Oh, well I'll worry about that later, right now I just need to get to Story City. 

We tried to talk to HRH on her birthday bluetooth but it is kind of windy out there and so we figured she would call us if she needed us. It isn't like we needed to stop soon, CaDiva gave me a banana and Cheerios in the cab before we started out.  It was really uneventful while we stayed on the interstate until we pulled off in Story City. 

Then we enjoyed reading the team names on the vehicles who passed us. And they all passed us. Big trailers, semis, buses, cars, motorcycles, scooters, motorized skateboards, one spry looking older gentleman in a walker... Hey, not my 18-wheeler and I stayed in the slow lane (at least it was slow behind me.)

When we got to Story City, we drove some distance looking for the bikers. They had what appeared to be a lovely set up in a park just surrounded by no parking signs as far as the eye could see. We slowed down to ask someone who looked like the helpful police officers in Webster City. But looks is all we got. His instructions were we could park wherever we could find a place as long as it wasn't there. So we pulled into a mostly empty nursing facility parking lot and called HRH to tell her where we were. While I filled her in on the drive thus far and determined she was having the time of her life, CaDiva pulled her silver-tongue routine on the nice lady who came out to ask us not to park there. Then she told CaDiva if we went back the way we came there was a Mall letting "buses" park there. 

I managed to maneuver out of the parking lot and back into the flow of traffic, negotiating several turns until I saw the very helpful people with pink flags. Unfortunately the first ones we saw were not in the parking lot. It looked like either a grand home or country club with a traffic circle, round-about thingy. CaDiva said just pull over as far as you can and swing around. I got pointed in the other direction somehow or other, don't ask me how, my eyes had been closed ever since the nice lady told us to go away.

We eased back out onto the road and down a few more blocks and found more very helpful people who held back all the darkness of the world that surrounded this leviathan I was aiming more than steering and helped me glide it into a big old wonderful place just opposite the exit driveway. Nothing but straight shots after we hooked up with  HRH.  A lady from the Kitchen Collection gave CaDiva a coupon (yeah I know I still don't know how she does it) and told her the building had public bathrooms INSIDE and they FLUSHED and they had free coffee. No food court though. 

Didn't matter, we were busy talking to our bikers. TWC called to find out how to get the SAG bus for Not-Hank. We read off the instructions about "going wheels up" on the left side of the road. I also gave him some of the insight HRH's neighbor had given us, was it only yesterday, yeah well she said find shade, most any one would let you sit in their yard if you asked, and pick up some of the trash as you leave. When she was settled he said he would meet us in Story City.

She waited almost two hours but we were stuck since she was smack in the middle of the route and we still had to follow the rules until we got TWC and HRH to the end. The SAG bus would not drop her in Story City, it had to take her all the way to Marshalltown. She said it was loaded full, she almost didn't get on. But she and a lady who had medical needs did claim the last two seats. 

In the meantime, HRH caught up with us. We replenished her water and ice and got her to the indoor plumbing. She was still reveling in her adventure. We tried to get her to rest some but she was anxious to get back out there. She did stay with us long enough to hear from TWC that he had blown past Story City without even realizing it and would meet up with us in Marshalltown. 

HRH took off and CaDiva and I headed to the Casey's across from the mall thinking it would be easy in/easy out and would have food. Now, let me say this, I haven't spent a lot of time at Casey's General Stores before this trip and, as welcome as they were during the adventure, if I ever eat another roast beef sandwich and diet coke from there again I will shave off my taste buds and pack them away in blue paper in a ceder lined box under my bed. Enough Said.

There was one more issue at Casey's ... easy in/easy out was not so accurate. We saw an RV pull out from what looked like a straight in parking place but it was the line for diesel fuel. This is the point at which I discovered the car had something called "park assist" that I didn't know how to use and backing up is a VERY BAD idea with a trailer. HRH said something about me being one step closer to being able to go out with her and her boat but I think she might have been delirious at that point.

In the meantime, Not-Hank had arrived in Marshalltown, found the DQ didn't have AC but the Caseys would let her hang out inside, with cool drinks, indoor plumbing, and no place to charge her phone. She was so patient. I hated leaving her hanging like we did. I know next year we'll coordinate the maps better so everyone will know where we can cross the bike path without breaking any rules. If she had known just how much further she had to go for us to pick her up she might have been able to make it after a little rest. 

I'll tell you about TWC's victory lap, and the rescue of Not-Hank and HRH tomorrow. But now it is time for bed.

Now where did I leave you

Sorry to be so long but between a bad hip and my Gabby, LoLo and Miranda in London, I haven't been up to blogging.

So I told you about about laying in the tent listening to Three Dog Night while CaDiva and I shared one queen sized air mattress in the back room. HRH had another in the "porch" area of the tent. None of us were sleeping so much. CaDiva said she appreciated how hot and uncomfortable the musicians had to be but she hoped they would play long enough for her to fall asleep. The band ended up playing for at least three hours. For future reference, that is not enough time to fall asleep on an air mattress out in the July heat. But, we were pretty much out by the time Not-Hank and TWC settled in.

TWC was sleeping in his truck but Not-Hank joined HRH in the porch. She brought a sleeping bag but was sleeping on the ground cover. In fact, neither of them slept as much as CaDiva and I and we didn't sleep at all. Several times during the night, HRH wondered if she should invite Not-Hank (whom she had met only briefly when they arrived that evening) up onto the air mattress. Not-Hank spent the same time wondering how weird it would be to ask HRH to haul it over so she could join her on the air mattress. I'm thinking of trying to work this scenario into a lesson on communication skills I intend to deliver next month. The names, of course, will be changed to humiliate...ah I mean protect the innocent.

It wasn't long after Not-Hank settled in that both CaDiva and I discovered the temperature had dropped sufficiently to reduce the need to sweat enough that we both had to visit the little chase team room, aka Kybo...in the dark...waaaaaaaaay over there. Do you remember that scene from "Two Weeks Notice" when Hugh Grant got the Winnebago owner to let Sandra Bullock use their facilities? Yeah, so did we. And since the nice lady with the pie was in a Winnebago next to the tent, I tried pointing out to CaDiva that, since she was from San Francisco which is right next to Oakland, maybe she could make a call.. But she insisted she didn't know anyone named Estella and had no way of contacting Mr. Grant. Besides she had a flashlight and intended to walk down to the Kybos.

I opted for the nearby weeds and waited for her to return. She insisted the walk, while interesting and hurried, was not nearly as bad as during the heat of the day. This was fortunate since there were no good-looking young cops on utility vehicle around. Or even an overweight deputy sheriff in a Buick.

Still and all we got it done, more than once. We drowsed and actually slept off and on. In fact, between 4:30 AM and 5:15 AM we were pretty deeply asleep. I know this because about the third time HRH said, "Hey, time to get up." I actually understood the words but was not able to form the response that told her to go back to bed, I was freaking asleep.

So we rolled off of the air mattress, crawled across the floor and pulled ourselves upright while staring into the heat vapors rising from the sauna that was Webster City at dawn. Or my vision might just have been blurry. I don't know, I'm not certain I was able to actually form thoughts in English at that point.

Somehow I managed to get dressed and communicate with TWC. It was mostly something about what the hell he was doing using an electric toothbrush in the great outdoors. He seemed to think it was reasonable but then he slept in a Frigidaire on an upholstered reclining car seat. He and Not-Hank were anxious to get on the road but HRH had to help CaDiva and I break camp.

Ok so CaDiva and I helped her. Ok, we didn't actually help her so much as we didn't get in her way too much. Well we might have been in her way but she didn't complain because she wanted to get on the road too. After the tent, air mattresses, chairs, ice chests, and assorted luggage needed by three women was loaded into the Highlander,we sent them on their way across Iowa. CaDiva and I started out in the 18-wheeler (aka TWC's SUV and trailer) after parking the Highlander nearer the entrance.

That is another story entirely, which involves me abandoning the 18-wheeler along side the exit so I could walk back to where CaDiva sat in our car to explain what I meant by my manic arm movement was "park the Highlander over there".  You would be surprised how flexible a semi is if it is trying to pull around an abandoned 18-wheeler.

A Night in a Tent

The Tent is up! What a Team!

Well we got back to the tent after touring downtown Webster City and started to make ourselves at home when CaDiva and HRH decided to walk down to the Kybos, which were at the park entrance and as I told you, we were camped in the far corner.

Weenies.

I decided to sit in the shade and hydrate since I was sweating out as much as I took in. I still had the lemonade glass which had been refilled with water and tea and water again and I'll admit I was zoning out a bit when I heard something oddly familiar behind me.

A deep soothing masculine voice assuring someone that it was no bother at all. I turned my head and broke out laughing as I recognized CaDiva riding in the utility golf cart with a fine-looking Webster City police officer. She was hugging him as HRH approached on foot. All I could say was, "How did I know it was you?"

CaDiva explained it later when she said the young officer had asked her if there was anything he could do to help and she asked him for a ride back from the Kybos. He complied and HRH walked. She mentioned SEVERAL times that she was standing right there when CaDiva climbed aboard and road off. I think next time we do this, she may take her bike to the Kybos and just count that CaDiva let get her own ride home.

By this time I had connected with Not-Hank and TWC. They weren't going to even leave Des Moines until 7:30 so we decided to find dinner without waiting for them. As I was more than comfortable where I sat ... well comfortable was a strong term ... I was more like melted into the camping chair. And since HRH is younger and the car belongs to CaDiva it seemed only sensible for the two of them to go back to the Casey's and get some food. And since the Casey's was so close to those lovely pork chops on a stick, they might as well bring some back.

At that point, we didn't know the pork chop dealer would come scoping out the camp site at regular intervals to deliver their beguiling meaty moistness to the other-white-meat-addicts around the park. By the time we found that out we had scarfed down the last pork chop run and were sucking back some more iced tea while whining about the lack of pie.

We were laughing and telling tales and making plans when the lady in the next camp over came by with three pieces of apple pie still warm from their stove. Oh, I do love Iowans.

We were a little worried about losing TWC's parking place when a GREAT BIG RV started to pull in between the two trees we were set up behind. We watched in amazement as the behemoth barely missed being wedged under a lower branch. As the driver let youngsters out of the side doors we thought they were just going to abandon the hulk where it sat. Then, just as slowly, the driver worked it back out from under the tree limb. When she unwound the RV and got it headed back towards the road, she beckoned her young passenger back into the vehicle with the single instruction..."This never happened."

Soon the sun began to set and we were a little concerned about Not-Hank and TWC when we got the first of several phone calls as they navigated the same jumble of closed streets and park entrances masquerading as a towing service driveway. We discussed driving down to direct them in but feared losing our parking space. Soon enough, though, TWC declared he thought he found us.

I walked to the edge of the bike trail to wave TWC into the parking space. I had been there a few minutes when a two-wheeled missile approached me as if I were lit up by the infrared beams of a Seal Team. By the time I recognized TWC he was laughing his butt off.

As he is considerably younger than, well most adults, I used the time honored response..."You know you are adopted." He didn't care, we had plenty of space for what turned out to be more of an 18-wheeler than a truck with a trailer and he and Not-Hank were ready to party. They wandered towards the road and we settled down for mature lady time. I warned both of them I wasn't going to explain anything back at the office if they failed to return in time to start the bike ride the next day. I'm not certain, but I think I heard something akin to "Yeah Yeah sure mom."

Soon HRH, CaDiva and I realized the music we were hearing was live. We thought Three-Dog Night wasn't going to start until 9:00 but it was only 8:30. But as we heard the first strains of "Momma Told Me Not to Come" we realized the breeze wasn't the best thing about our site.

We listened for a few hours and then settled into the tent. I discovered this involved a lot of crawling around on the ground to get down to to the air mattress. This is not only completely undignified but more than a little uncomfortable for a fat woman with arthritis. However, the definition of undignified was raised considerably when the temperature dropped just enough for me to quit sweating and needing to pee.

But once again, it is late and the Fab Five are being interviewed wearing their golds, so I'll finish this tomorrow.

Touring Webster City

This is a girl-trip as you will remember. Which means our first stop was a Convenience store with a ladies room. Oh, and we needed some ice and drinks and such. But we were saving most of our appetites for the promised pie, pasta and pork chops. Which would have to wait, as CaDiva started chatting with the store manager. For a woman who never recognizes flirting when it is offered, she sure does attract it. While we waited for her, HRH and I checked out the youngster in the parking lot, gesticulating wildly with a small cardboard square sign.

You couldn't actually read the sign since it was written in ball point pen and a 23-point font. Regardless, the saying is true ... and a little child shall lead... Just as CaDiva wandered out of air-conditioned mini-mart we signaled PORK CHOP HO!!!! The youngster was directing us down the hill behind the store where a welcoming aroma wafted down wind to our waiting nostrils...Pork Chop on a Stick. $5.00

We didn't know what else would be available in our travels, so we split one of the moist, peppery, slow-cooked, blond steaming treasures wrapped in aluminum foil and impaled on a skewer. And it was MAGNIFICENT. As we wiped our chins, we considered getting a few more but we still hadn't found the campsite at this point.

With pork chop down and two points of our triangle of dietary treasure hunt before us, we climbed back into the car and headed to the campsite. As I explained, we were successful in setting up camp but after you have staked out your territory, it is inviolate and you can apparently just leave for sight-seeing or pie-hunting.  That's what HRH said anyway and she is the only one of the three of us who found sleeping in the out of doors an acceptable alternative to the cool, crispness of an elevated sheet en-robed mattress with indoor plumbing conveniently placed. Who were CaDiva and I to argue? I mean did Jack climb up onto that floating door just because Rose closed her eyes?

We found parking near where the vendors were setting up several blocks from the brick building we targeted as the City Hall, which housed our first stop, the Information Center. Most of the vendors and presumably purveyors of pie and pasta, were still setting up since they knew the bulk of bikers wouldn't hit town until noon or later. So we would have to live on our 1/3 of the pork chop for a bit longer. Besides, HRH was anxious to find out if that bike path so near our campsite truly was the start of her grand adventure. Not to mention CaDiva wanted to get some idea how to find the support driver's route.

The volunteers at City Hall were very helpful and informative, not to mention apologetic for the locked bathrooms. We got maps, directions, and really cute little bicycle pins. No one actually mentioned the wearing of our wristbands would get us discounts on food and souvenirs, but apparently we would know that if we read the directions. Who Knew?

We found a slightly cooler than the hinges of hell shaded bench to wait until the official Ragbrai licensed vendor was able to vend. She didn't have any money even though we promised to spend so much she wouldn't need to give us change but there were rules and such. As I waited there, I struck up a conversation with an obviously experienced biker who turned out to be HRH's neighbor. Yeah, from home...but that is the way when you go anywhere with HRH, you are going to run into someone she knows.

By this time we gave up on the licensed vendor and decided to wander down to the corridor of vendors back where we parked the car. The buildings provided a pleasant amount of shade and we got in plenty of people watching until we found the food vendors were up and over several more blocks in the unshaded parts of town.

Do you know how hot concrete gets on a 106 degree day? According to the thermometer in the car it was 120 degrees. When we finally got to the corridor of food we had to park CaDiva on a porch stoop. HRH and I went in hunt for the promised pie and pasta. After walking to the end of the food vendors and back we ended up with gyros, turkey sandwich and the best Lemonade we drank since DC in '76 (but that is a whole other story - remind me to tell you about losing a rented fire-engine red Merc Cougar during a march on Washington).

Actually, HRH found the lemonade. CaDiva was giving the mom a report of our activities thus far when she saw HRH approach with the icy golden nectar. CaDiva reached out like the little hrh after she spotted a cookie. HRH asked her if she wanted a drink. At that point CaDiva opened up her big green eyes very wide and let her lower lip quiver slightly as she asked, "You mean it wasn't for me?"

As for me, I brought back water for CaDiva but as long as HRH was offering to get the lemonade I said, sure bring me one. I mean if you can't get pie or pasta, you should at least get lemonade. Right? Yeah, that's what I thought too.

After we ate, we decided not to worry about dinner until after Not Hank and TWC arrived and we began the long trudge back to the car. Funny, it was parked in the same place we left it but it was a lot further walking back than it had been when we started the meander through town.

But it is late now and I still have the tale of dinner and Three Dog Night so I'll sign off tonight and fill you in on the rest tomorrow. I will also go through the pictures HRH let me download from her camera and you can see what we saw in my next few posts.

So we begin

CaDiva and I rolled out of bed at 5:30. We  had very clear instructions from HRH not to try to pick her up until closer to 7 than 6:30 since she had to drop the little hrh off at daycare. But we needed to eat a little something, well I had to because of the diabetes. You don't mess with that shit, it kills you by inches, you know. And we needed to top off the tank and pick up a little ice for the liquids...hydrate hydrate hydrate...

We got everything done and showed up at HRH's house just before 7 but she wasn't home quite yet. I visited with the prince consort and he, once again, assured me that I would adore camping. I hear CaDiva and HRH talking in the front yard and head out to help load of the last of HRH's gear. Even the prince consort came out to help. Help as in he undoes everything that HRH had spent the weekend preparing and does it over again. HRH apologized for the smell of petrochemical since the prince consort lubricated her entire bicycle and, for an as yet explained mystery, her helmet. At this point, the word lubricate had not been banned from our vocabulary.

But none of this mattered as we rolled into Starbucks for the liquid portion of our breakfast and Mickey D's for fat, salt, and carbs. We are girl-tripping again and everything is good. Webster City isn't that far from home so we only have to stop one time to pee. Jillian, our GPS device kept us right on track until we got into the city. These layover cities, and even some of the pass-through towns, set aside much of the main drag for the bikers, vendors and exhibitors. Which means our poor Jillian just couldn't understand why we wouldn't follow her directions. We finally muted her when we couldn't tolerate "At your next opportunity make a legal U-turn" even one more time and followed the open roads in the general direction of the campsite.  

Webster City had ambassadors staffing the odd little corners and if you slowed down and looked pitifully at one of them, he would point you in the right direction. Ours did warn us that the camp site we were looking for was pretty much filled up. This was one of my fears, since no one had actually given us a reservation, but we persevered. We needed to turn twice, following the detour but not go under the train trestle. We needed to turn into the road that looked like the driveway. And then there is the line of cars, one after the other being turned away. 

I dig into my bag for the e-mail assuring me there would be plenty of camping sites. CaDiva rolls down her window and tells the young man we don't have a reservation but we had an e-mail. The young man says we have one team with over a hundred riders over that side and another with 30 on the other side so he doesn't know what he can do for us. But he takes the printed e-mail anyway and smiles. Well, he says, if the boss said we had a place for you we have a place, how many are you? We'll just one, we tell him. Actually we had three but only one tent so we didn't fib. 

We drive down the gravel and then across the grass to find a place in the corner, as directed by the young man at the gate. Oh and such a corner. Tall trees, just off the bike path, which turned out to be the starting point for our riders on the next morning, between the road and river with a pretty steady cooling breeze. Ok, so it wasn't near the kibos, but that has a few pluses too. Not great ones when you have three overweight, middle-aged women who take magic pills, but there is the breeze.

We got the tent up and the car unloaded a lot faster than we ever imagined we could do in our first few practices. Ok, so the tent blew over one time...just once and that was only because we had both air mattresses and the bike on the same side of the tent. Besides, we had shifted position twice trying to find the least sun. Remember it was going to be 106 F on Tuesday.

HRH was glad we brought a camp chair for her too so we were able to get squared away before we headed downtown to find food and instructions. And more about that tomorrow, along with meeting up with neighbors, lemonade, and Three-dog Night.

Things I learned from Ragbrai XL

• XL does not only stand for extra large. 
• There are people who actually look good in bicycle shorts, Not-Hank for example. 
• Pie is not anywhere near as prevalent as advertised.
• But if you are in Iowa and the people in the next campsite find out you haven't had pie, they will give you some. 
• The difficulty of peeing in the weeds is inversely proportionate to individual necessity.
•  An air mattress on a Residence Inn fold-out sleeper couch is infinitely more comfortable than one on the ground.
• Asking CaDiva how she possibly fell off the edge of said air mattress on the ground is better addressed after you help her.
• Pork chop on a stick is a good meal whenever it is available.
• I can drive a huge SUV with an even larger trailer but only forward.
• HRH is freaking fantastic.

When I recover from lack of sleep and the heat I'll give you all the details but our little band had a grand adventure. TWC finished, Non-Hank went wheels-up after the first pass-through town but is already planning for next year's ride, and HRH made it to St. Anthony. St. Anthony was the 2nd to last pass-through town and about 20 miles before the end point at Marshalltown. It was also at the beginning of a 700 foot climb in elevation, so a very sensible stopping point.

When I checked with her later today, she taken little hrh to the daycare, stowed her gear, made lunch for the prince consort, finished three loads of laundry, tended to her vegetable garden, played with little hrh and teased her older sister. As I said, Freaking Fantastic.

We have so many stories to tell and I need to download the pictures. I will share both of them over the next few days but for now, I have to go to work tomorrow so I'm off for bed.

And they're off

House shut down, cats fed, litter changed, ice chest loaded. We can't try to pick HRH up before she drops off the little hrh. So we will eat a light breakfast then top off the tank and grab some ice for the road.

 Poor CaDiva she hates a trip she can't plan for. (Remind me to tell you of the drive to Portland Oregon with two days notice.) But this isn't a trip, it is an adventure. We'll figure most of this out on the way. Next year is early enough to plan things. 

I'm not bringing a computer with us. So unless we shelter in a cooling station with computers, this is the last you will hear from me until the deed is done. Then I hope to have a wonderful tale to spin.

Have a good one and see you soon.

T minus 9 hours

The car is loaded with everything except the ice chest and HRH's bike. We exchanged HRH's blue tooth device which should have accessed both her Ipod and cell phone but it didn't. So now she has ear buds on a string and a blue tooth for her phone. No good tank tops to be had but I got an ice tea. My core body temp is finally down to the point we don't need to worry about spontaneous combustion.

Tomorrow at 6:30 we'll stop at the Git and Go for Ice and pick up HRH after she drops the little hrh at day care before we hit Starbucks. Within the hour we'll be in a part of Iowa none of us has visited before. We'll set up the tent and scope out the town, looking for pie and pork chops and pasta. After work TWC and Not-Hank will drive up and we'll make plans for the night, but I imagine it will involve pie, pork chops and pasta.

Not-Hank and HRH are jazzed about the ride. TWC is being as patient as a veteran non-com surrounded by greenhorn 2nd louies. He is not only the only Y chromosome on the crew, he is the only one who has ever been on this adventure before. He plans on sleeping in his air conditioned truck and trying to keep us from drowning him in estrogen.

Yeah, what are the odds that is going to happen?

The Mom has assured us she can rescue the cats if something keeps us from getting home on Wednesday. The cats just want to know why we keep hauling things in and out the back door without bringing in food. Yes, I said cats. Yes I know unmarried women shouldn't have cats. I have drawn the line at two since, as we all know, the Odd Cat Lady kit is delivered with the third cat. But still you have to have something living and breathing that is happy you are home. And I just couldn't do another dog so soon after I put my Roxie girl down. 

No bummers now. Except Sally Ride died and she was 61 and that was just too young. And if I see even one more thing about Aurora, Colorado I'll just collapse in a heap. I can't generally say traveling across Iowa in the midst of the hottest July anyone can remember is a good idea. On the other hand, if you are going to commit such insanity, this is the week to do it. Sally Ride died and she was only 61 and Greg Zanis made that long drive down from Illinois with 12 crosses for a second time and that was too soon.

So I think shutting down my mind and pooling my senses with 10,000 other like fools who need to let the beauty of Iowa in the blazing July heat cleanse our souls for a day or a week is just what I need now.

HRH's Training Advances

Oh dear goodness, HRH rode to Adel (maybe it was Adair, I'm not certain which) today and that was over 45 miles. CaDiva brought up the suitcase and did more laundry today. I tried to set up HRH's new blue tooth for her Ipod. Who knew the Woz and the Late Jobs didn't think people would need blue tooth.

Ah well, after we load the car tomorrow we'll go back to Wally-world and return the bilateral headset and get her a one-sided blue tooth just for her phone. The plan is that she can get in touch with us when she finds the pie mother lode...oh I mean when she needs help. Yeah that's it, when HRH needs us to rescue her and maybe the not-Hank, she needs to be able to call us even if she can't dig out her phone with her hands full of pie.

This will also help in the kibo.There are problems associated to long bike rides, kibos and biking shorts that I never considered. Not the least of which is worrying about dropping your cell phone in a kibo. I'm telling you right now, if my phone was all that smart it wouldn't need to be fished out of the bottom of one of those holes. So I think it is best just not to drop it.

We'll discuss the other problems after we discover if there is such a thing as bike short chalk.

Well cans need to go to the curb again, so we'll let you know how things are going when we move the rocket to the launch platform.

Ramping up for the adventure

Saturday is the day we usually go out with the Mom and HRH. I talked to the Mom yesterday but no plans set for certain until I texted HRH this morning. It was a major morning for me given that it was a Saturday and I was not only awake and out of bed, but I had on clothes. I even made some toast and ice tea for CaDiva. Well the tea was already in the fridge but I added the ice. And according to HRH, that is a significant part of the recipe in Iced Tea.

When HRH texted me back she said she still needed to shower. Remember I was already up, dressed and had cooked but HRH still hadn't showered? Must be nice. Ok, so she had to shower because she had just finished a 35-mile bike ride, but that is no excuse. She told us to pick her and the little hrh up. Did I mention HRH is a grandma? Yeah, she is, and riding in Ragbrai...you impressed? Me too.

We we went to a diner we liked the first time we went there but no so much the last two times. What can I say, HRH had a coupon. Maybe it was the heat or we just got there at the wrong time, but the services wasn't that good and my eggs were scorched. Not to mention 1200 calories based on the food journal I'm keeping. But little hrh enjoyed eating jelly off my toast and watching the jukebox bubble. CaDiva said her burger was very good. I'm just not ready to endorse this place. We have had better but we'll probably go back. After all, HRH may have another coupon.

HRH had some ideas about how we could have two vehicles in Webster City and end up in Marshalltown without having to drive separately. She is worried CaDiva and I aren't going to have any fun. I'm thinking we should just get into Webster City and make a decision after we set up the tent. Speaking of which,we still had some things to get ready for camping out on Tuesday night. Oh, by the way, did I mention the most recent weather reports says we are going to have record breaking heat, the hottest Ragbrai since the late 80s?

But that is next week and this is this week. For now, the Mom needed her after lunch cigarette and the little hrh had to run off the jelly while CaDiva and I settle the check. The Mom wanted to go home after that, since she wasn't handling the heat well and the little hrh was getting cranky. So we climbed into the Toyota and started to sing. It had been 89 degrees when we parked and was 102 now, what was there to do but sing.

Since CaDiva couldn't remember the words to Puff the Magic Dragon (that's true irony from a woman who literally never inhaled) we started with the songs the Mom taught us when we were kids until she forgot the words to Old Shep. Then we segued into the songs Grandma sang, not the bawdy ones, and by that time, the little hrh was out like a light.

We had to wait for the little hrh's mom to get off work before we headed out again. At Wally-world, we found a new air mattress but it was almost 90 bucks so HRH bought the 30 dollar one. CaDiva couldn't find a second fan which she wanted since it recently occurred to her we had a three room tent and only one fan. I wasn't worried because not-Hank is going to be in the middling room, HRH will have brand new air mattress, TWC says he is sleeping in his truck, and the fan will be in the front porch of the tent with CaDiva and me. But that is just me.

We did find a padlock for my new gym locker so I was having a good day. We decided against stopping at Mr. Walton's Club to buy a case or two of Magnum's, after all we are trying to be healthful. Besides they only have the caramel or the white chocolate ones, and I really prefer the mocha, but the main reason was the healthful thing. We are riding Ragbrai you know, even though carbs are good for bike riders and I just read the thing about burning 3500 calories a day. I just don't think that counts for the persons in the truck even if we are pulling a trailer. So we stopped at the other store, never owned by Mr. Walton, picked up CaDiva's prescriptions, some weed-killer and took a second look for a fan. As it stands now, the front porch of the tent will be the only one with a fan. Well, you know what Meatloaf says, two out of three ain't bad.

Laundry and packing tomorrow. Loading the car on Monday. Then hit the road bright and early on Tuesday. Well bright is a bit strong, but it will be early.

Lunch and Truck-driving

As always, CaDiva's luncheon was a wondrous success. Wild Rice with Chicken and Artichoke Heart chilled salad, Olive Bar and Black Forest Cherry Cake. I never want to serve a 12-layer cake ever again. CaDiva says she could try a shorter version by using a sheet cake. I suggested we do the trifle as individual servings. Whichever way it goes, we don't have to worry about lunch until after Ragbrai. And that is for a team we have already fed twice.

Now by "we" you understand that means CaDiva. I support her in all her efforts...by standing just outside the kitchen cheering her on. Well standing is a bit strong...maybe more lounging but I am definitely cheering. Not as much as the ones who only get to eat her cooking once in a while, but definitely cheering.

At lunch she stayed around to help me serve the cake yesterday and TWC sidled up to chit chat about the Ragbrai. He knew she wasn't really looking forward to leaving her Toyota at the start and riding, or worse, driving a strange truck. You have to know CaDiva to understand why I'm so confused by this.

This is a woman who learned to parallel park on San Francisco hills in a car with neither power steering or automatic transmission. She not only drove cross-country with me 8 or 9 times but when we are in town she does almost all the driving. She drove through Atlanta, in and around Washington, DC not to mention 80 miles a day in Miami. (Remind me to tell you about the three weeks in Sunny Isle, Florida.)

But I figure if I can talk her into sleeping in a tent and TWC can talk her into riding in truck, then we should have a pretty interesting story to tell as this adventure unfolds.

You're going to do WHAT?

I can't say going on Ragbrai has been on my bucket list but I started this new job you see, and my Ops Manager mentioned how we could do social things to build the team. There was Caroling at the Vets Hospital, working at a Soup Kitchen, even a day working for Habitat.

So how did I end up on the Sleep-overnight-in-a-tent-before-trying-to-keep-track-of-my-team-as-they-pedal-along-the-asphalt-ribbon Team? Well the only thing I do worse than cook is sing, and if you think I had trouble with the tent you should see me with a hammer. Besides HRH did have it on her bucket list and we may have to amend the girl trip rules to include a clause about having your sister's back when she is crossing off her bucket list. Maybe one of these days I should tell you about the corn maze...

But I digress. So I am at the office and say, "Is anyone going to ride Ragbrai?" and sure enough two people are interested. One of them has actually ridden a couple (or a dozen) times before and says we can use his truck and trailer. The Ops Manager and one Department Manager even consider coming up to party with us to Three Dog Night (they are playing at Webster City Tuesday).

Well now I am committed (or at least should be) and have to explain to CaDiva that there won't be a hotel, or room service, or happy hour. But there is Wi-fi and pie so she is willing to give it a try. She found a battery powered fan and a butane powered mosquito repellent. And did I mention pie? 

So now is the time for the list...

• Bike shorts in grown-up Midwestern woman size  - DONE
• New bike shoes - DONE (she likes them better than the shorts...if you know of some Bike shorts with a waistband wider than one inch let me know)
• Practice setting up the tent - DONE (long side to the top)
• Mend and mount the bike rack - DONE
• Get Team Warped Captain his Ragbrai instruction book - which he will pointedly ignore but he won't tell me and that way we are both happy.
• Everyone needs to trade Cell numbers.
• At some point TWC has to show me how to drive his truck. I am thinking we shouldn't tell him the theory I have about 50% of the tires on the road at any one time is a good thing. 
• HRH needs cash and quarters. Cash for Pie. Quarters for vending machines - do you know how sweaty a dollar bill gets on a bicyclist?
• Sunscreen - HRH swears she doesn't need it  but she thinks CaDiva and I do.
• Something to sleep in that you can wear to the Kibo but don't die of heat prostration over night.
• First aid kits. 
• And stop at Starbucks before we leave. 

On the Road Again

If you are not from the Midwest you believe the Midwest is flat. We have many ways to disprove this theory. I have always used the Ask-a-Midwesterner method as she will explain, in a very informed but patient tone, the Midwest is made up of gently rolling hills. Thus far I have not had great success with that technique.

The second method comes once a year (at least it has for the last forty of them) in July. We just call it RAGBAI. Which stands for the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa.

Basically 10,000 people, seeking to prove Iowa is not flat, dip the rear wheel of a bicycle in the Missouri River then ride the approximately 430 miles across Iowa during the heat of July. Unless, of course, it is cold and rainy. In which case they ride the approximately 430 miles across Iowa into a cold rainy headwind. After a week of eating Church Lady Pie, chasing down a school bus painted like a giant pig from which they serve pork chops on the fly, and lining up for a Kybo, the cyclists dip the front wheel of their bikes in the Mississippi. This madness was originated 40 years ago by two Des Moines Register columnists Donald Kaul and John Karras. More about them later.

Why am I telling you this?

Simply this, HRH has always wanted to ride Ragbrai. She is sweet but you will also recall she tends to try to ride luggage carts across hotel parking lots while wearing flip flops. Consequently we don't encourage her to do these things solo. This explains why Cadiva and I have agreed to join her as day riders. Day-riding is taking individual fits of madness instead of a week-long decent into all that is is Ragbrai. To be more precise, HRH is going to don spandex bicycle shorts and a helmet to ride a bicycle. Cadiva and I will ride in a car with only limited access to pie and pork chops, and agree to sleep in a TENT on AIR MATTRESSES ... OUTSIDE. And did I mention the limited access to pie?

Today we worked on learning to set up the tent...note to self ... the long end of the poles for up and the hooks go down...and tried to fit a bike rack on the Girl Trip Chariot (which you will recall is called a car because it has a wheel in each corner and is steered by one inside...see the Girl Trip Rules.)

We will discuss at length the preparations and activities coming up this week and next. But I have to take the cans down to the curb so this is all for tonight.