11/19

today… hero twin steve became a Waffle House man. admittedly we are not in full confidence that the International House of Pancakes where we gorged this morning was the complete source of today’s mishaps. but it is our westen mentality to think in binary so that up exsist because we have down, good exsist becuase we  have bad, comedy central becuase we have Fox, then you love Waffle House because you have strong reason to suspect IHOP gave you food poisoning. heck the seasonal pumpkin pancakes, 3 eggs, and hashbrowns. heck them to heck.

for the not ill, like this fairer of the twins, today was a hoot gosh darn giggle of a hooter. albeit a darn hecker of a hot one  and a moisture rating that led to extreme morning fog (terrifying on shoulderless suburban roads!) and sweaty air for the rest of the day. but it was also the day our bad ass crazy uncle tim and friend brian met us in lieu to the blue bell creamery in brenham. (side note: every southerner claims that this is the best ice cream in the whole darn country. the 95% this is not staight sugar is butter fat. its a palatable heartattack. uncle tim bought me praline flavored! it was pretty gosh great.)

for a short distance the twins where given a motorcycle escort by two intimidating Harley’s (the hogs of tim and brain) causing great feeling of importance for this hero. my borther found it more exciting to have his hair pulled back by Hell’s Angels as he vomited profusely on the side of the road. this was after purging in a gas station toilet but before vomiting at the blue bell creamery and then in our motel room waste basket while having explosive diarrhea. that guy can party.

suffice it to say, we didn’t complete today’s set miles and have sprung instead for a more comfortable stay in brenham as brother steve waits for death.

the motel has a hot tub and i decided to write my entries in the depth of its bubbly goodness. there was a young gentleman already occupadio in it. i asked to joined the tattooed man of incrediable handlebar moustashery and flirty twined my way into bottles of bud light. as the night ensued it was bed time for this twin. so to came offer to join a true texas good ole boy for buds in room 117. with a wink i told my cowboy i’d see him at breakfast and then proptly returned to room 108 to sleep next to my diarrhiac brother. all for you, ma. hero twin kate signing out.

ps. we did succeed in finding cowboy hats today. only a few more items left to complete!

Adventures in Crazy Town

Oh Louisiana. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Our bi-polar compatriot, our part-time lover, I’m kind of glad you’re gone. Helllooooo big momma Texas. She got nice wide shoulders. And they’re HOT. But first, a tale of our last night in LA. The day started out with gale force winds that seemed to have started as soon as we crossed the Death Bridge over the Mississippi River in Baton Rouge. After much drafting by me behind Kate (thanks Kate!) we finally reached the town of Reeves. It was supposed to be our day’s end but as it turns out, Reeves is just a name on a map. A name and general store. We saw a sign that said “Ragley 23 Miles” about ten miles before and since there was nothing keeping us in Reeves we decided to eat a Cliff bar and trudge on through another thirteen miles. For the last six miles I chanted in rhythm to my cadence “Ragley six more miles. Ragley six more miles. Ragley five more miles…” until finally we reached Ragley. Ragley is either the name of an overpass or an invisible town. I prefer to think it’s the later.  Either way we were very disappointed. At Ragley, highway 190 makes a sharp turn north but we were like, hey, Google Maps gets what Google Maps wants and we headed north. Once again Google is a lying son-of-a-bitch, a lesson we have learned repeatedly. Don’t get me wrong, those maps are the backbone of the trip and we’d be lost (literally) without them. But sometimes Google, I want to punch you in your direction giving face. So now it’s completely dark and we’re on the wrong road and we’re starting to have serous doubts about where we’re going and finally we see a gas station/mini mart/Subway sandwich shop and a United Methodist church. Hallelujah! Dinner and a friendly place to pitch our tent for the night. There’s no way that church in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE would turn down two road-weary cyclists after dark when all they want is eight square feet of grass to set up camp for ten hours, right? So we go in, introduce ourselves and ask if we can set up our tent in the back lot when the guy in charge gives us the frumpy face, asks us if we are riding as part of a mission for a church, gives us the super frumps when we said no and told us to wait outside while he and his group have a pow-w0w about our fate. So we go outside, Kate says, “Wow. I wasn’t expecting that,” and we wait for twenty minutes. Finally the guy comes out and gives us the good news. If we bike another twenty miles, at night, in the dark, after biking 75 miles all day, we can stay at a motel for free. As long as we go into the sheriff’s office and have a background check. There is, however, no way in hell we can use the grass on church property. Awesome. Thank you for your charity, Pastor Dickhead. We just wanted to put up a tent, and while a free hotel sounds nice we lack the ability to teleport that would be necessary to make that plan work.

So we go to the Subway to eat and hang out until they leave so we can sleep behind the volunteer fire station next door to the church.  As we sat there drinking our cheap gas station coffee and staring at the mind-bogglingly high percentage of people wearing camoflage we began to feel the ground shake and watched as the windows rattled in their frames, threatening to break.  And then hurricane Chatty Kathy came blowing into store.  “Hey, are you two the bikers do you have a place to stay it’s going to be cold out tonight we can put your bikes in my car and you can sleep at my house tonight I have to buy these cigarettes for my boyfriend and I’ll be back in thirty minutes.  Bye!”  What?  What the hell just happened?  Awesome now we have a place to stay!  And with a woman who is either crazy nice or hopped up on meth.  Then we think, can’t it be both?  Well, a little late but true to her word Chatty Kathy comes back, we load up our bikes in the back of the car, she drives us over to her place and we learn all kinds of things about our new friend.  Most notably she’s the great great great (etc.) granddaughter of General Lee and there is a wild panther running around her property that recently ate all of her cats.  Wow.  She show’s us the ins and outs of the house, points out the loaded rifle in case we’re confronted by robbers, and then tells us she’ll see us in the morning when she comes to pick us up and drop us off at our next day’s destination.  Kate and I were dumbfounded by our luck.  We both took showers (sperately Dway), looked outside for signs of panthers, locked the doors and crashed.  The next morning she came back, picked us up, and it was all we could do to get her to drop us off where she found us instead of our final destination (’cause that’d be cheating).  To reiterate, Chatty Kathy sees two strangers on bikes, drives them to her house, leaves them there all alone (with a panther), comes back in the morning and want’s to drive them another 75 miles.  Is that not incredible?  That was pretty much our experience throughout Lousiana.  People were either complete dicks or saints. 

Thank you Chatty Kathy.  Thank you.

-Hero Twin Steve

11/18

a rainy darn this morning. but being a lazy Sunday of just 40 miles to  complete,  the weather was of no concern. this is, of course, because our  beloved patrons insisted that we wait out the storm by being suzy laze abouts and eating delightful breakfast goods while our clothes were washed for us. oh, right, breakfast! ben is not a solid food in the morning sort of man, but will occasionally partake in “liquid bread,” for a champion’s first meal. this morning is was Coors Light. hey, it has yeast. and for the hero twins, homemade in Germany (friedda’s motherland) walnut schnapps. my gosh, i adore these people! by noon the weather cleared and the twins leisurely made our way to Taimbo; tonight’s bedding. but first, i just want to say, ben and friedda, thank you again for all of it! my only hope is that my sibling twin gets a chance to expand on these characters… he won’t, but hope is fun. right?

oh, right, taimbo. code word: suburbia. diamond in the rough: david.

David likes to run. he’s a runner. there’s really not much else to him.

…i’m kidding!

David, a heck of a good guy, took in us hero twins, fed us incredible local ale, pizza, and kept up with hilarities and muffled sports enthusiasm. he was a gosh send to brother twin who finally had someone to wax technological nerdom and to be a gateway to the sports realm. david does happen to be a marathon runner, although this is not his whole bread and butter. but he has good reason for it. If puff daddy ran a marathon with his wealth to support him and STILL made a darn fuse the whole time, well… david had to be better than that guy. And if Oprah could complete a marathon in 4 hours… well, he HAD to be a little better than that. so david started running. and once again, steve and i were in love. hero twin kate signing out.

PS. taimbo, which i’m certain i’ve spelled incorrectly… for once, is a suburban community just north of Huston. there are no shoulders here. watch out for that. but there are a lot of IHOPs. what out for that too. you’ll see…

11/17

Rusty (Michelle) made breakfast this AM. She’s a nice lady. At her insistence, my senior twin tried his first boudin (pronounced “boo-dan” by rust dawg, and “bow-din” if you’re not a southern darn!) which is some sort of rice filled sausage. scrumptious! we have seen “boudin & cracklin” advertised all over the dirty, dirty, and as soon as brother twin eats the deep fried pig entrails that is cracklin, all will be right.

The road to Houmble, tonight’s stay, was argues as I, the fairer twin, was still feeling bitten by the dog. but then we met Ben and Friedda. and all was right.

its hard to know where to begin. life travelers and couch surfers in their own right, these proud parents of ten and grandparents of nineteen (wowee!) were a wealth of stories, interests, and kindness, all while making their self built home ours and keeping us feed, clean, and delighted well into the eve. we were even fortunate to meet members of other generations which were all equally, amazing, successful, and kind.  but it is just as the gale storm of our wonderment meet par, and i became curious of the brown residue on the end of my schnoz, friedda told us a joke:

an old couple were sitting around when the husband asked his wife if she wanted anything from the kitchen.

“i want ice cream, but you better write it down or you’ll forget.”

“no, no” he said, “ice cream. i won’t forget.”

“and i want hot fudge on top, but write it down or you’ll forget!”

“no, no “he insisted. “hot fudge on ice cream. i won’t forget.”

“and i want whipped cream on top. now write it down or you’ll forget!”

“no, no” he promised. “whipped cream and hot fudge on ice cream. i won’t forget.”

and the husband goes into the kitchen. he is gone for a very long while before he finally returns with hashbrowns and eggs.

“see!” says the wife. “i told you to write it down! now you went and forgot the toast!”

and thats when we fell in love. hero twin kate signing out.

11/16

Louisiana; tiny baby ville. so the hero twins are going to Texas. finally, a chance to stretch out. because hero steve rerouted the tour we are now traveling the longest possible stretch of the Lone Star. thusly, Texas will be 1/3 of our trip. learn to gosh darn love it.

We stopped at the first market Texas offered which, according to images on the store front, was run by pirates. little known fact; Texas is run by pirates. I purchased myself a tall boy of Texas Busch, and my elder twin took on a deep fried burrito. we toasted to a new start. resolutions were made:

1. the twins must find cowboy hats.

2. I must wear a bandanna for the length of the state.

3. hero twin steve must fire a gun. and stop getting shot as so much.

4. the perfect pancakes must be had.

but first, Beaumont. The ride there was a bit of a windy darn, but of most concern was the lack of scenery. hero twins minds began to wonder. I thought of handmade tortillas, blueberry pancakes, and how my saddle mangled lady parts will look like Nom by the end of the tour. I also thought about how my family reads this log. Its fun to share.

As we approached our destination, the road; not so much less traveled. although, the severe construction made terrain that turned hero twins into broncos. the bucking type… not the 4wheeler… maybe both. (side note, besides this the shoulders here do prove that things are just bigger in Texas. heck, yeah!) but this was not what was of concern on the mission to Beaumont. the last small stretch was a bridge on Interstate 1. heck, no! it was time for a little more southern hospitality. it was time… to hitch.

elder twin craftily made a sign that read “just over the bridge” and thumbs were raised. and then we got bored so we just rode over it. it was not dangerous in the least. our bust.

Our hostess that evening was Michelle, better know as Rusty, who is a long time patron of couch suffers. she quickly brought us to delecioso mexican food and sensing that our benevolent new friend was keen, I asked her a plaguing question. what was her opinion on electrolytes.

It has been an ongoing debate between us twins whether or not the “electrolytes” that brother twin has made a life line is or is not complete bull darn. Poweraid, Gaderaid, or Darnaid, it is all propaganda, I say! that’s right, only Nazis drink electrolytes. what the heck is an electrolyte anyways? and Rusty laughed and told us of a film named… Idioawkward? something which I seemed to be quoting unbenounced. movies are jerks.

we also went to an internet café/bar/music venue that evening which is brilliant. here, hero twin steve had us quiz him from a Star Trek the Next Generation Trivia game. Almost every one of his answers were correct. I beamed with pride this night.

and then I drank to much, as usual. it was a good night.

hero twin kate signing out.

PS. I bought a rebel flag from a stand on the side of the road today. the woman their had almost no eye pigment and asked me about my trip. she then smiled with a weaponry of yellowing teeth and told me “to watch out for the crazies.” then she handed me the flag. people are neat.

11/15

We become local celebrities at the diner this morning as each town member made an effort to introduce themselves and chatty cathy about our travels. We found them each peasant as we smiled between bites of hot cakes. for the second time we narrowly  avoided being alerted to the local press, but alas out stays our brief and our narcissism is too weak to propel us to call ahead and inform any media. We save it all up for this site.

So far today has proudly made itself the WINDIEST GOSH DARN DAY to date. aiy, ye winds be a cruel mistress! at least the shoulder opened up allowing for us twins to ride two abreast and do a little chatty cathying of our own. we stopped to webercise in Eunice; a hole of a villa which smells like the inside of a wooden leg. hero steve added “that someone shat in.” we then spent time philosophizing about the characters that purchase the vended condoms from the bathroom of the eunice gas station. There was the option of “the bikini,” an ultra thin baby sleeve intended to increase his pleasure, or the “rough rider,” a knobed version for her enjoyment. obviously this is a complex character.

HWY 90 has finally made a more scenic ride, an enjoyment that we felt had depleted the last few days. the shoulder is still inconsistent in many a parts but overall this stretch is fairly biker compliant. except the wind darn. heck wind.

I am now in a Subway/Buffet Pizza shoppe/convenience store/ movie rental/ gas station (not to mention a haven for teenagers and what we think is a consistent stream of hunters and/or camo enthusiasts. it actually took us a while to realize we were not the only ones in the place since they are all so well disguised) which is the only evidence that the town of Reagle is not a misprint on our map. it is here that we plan a renegade sleep brigade after the united method church next door very christainly denied us a spot on the grass outback. we plan to camp there anyways. Now we just play the waiting game…

hero twin kate signing out.

PS. Louisiana should change it’s state motto to “the roadkill state” with today’s roadkill count reaching a heaping 55! or it could team up with Mississippi and be “it’s like coming home. if your home were filled with pile after pile of dead rotting animals… and we still hate bicycles.”

11/14 FINISHED

Breakfast success for hero twin steve this morning. It was our first Waffle House experience, or his, to be correct. I had a bran muffin from a starbucks like the trail straddling yella dog I am. Physical aside, my moral health waned today while elder twin munched his ego like meal. Bravo, sir. Bravo.

Quite the windy darn west of the Mississippi on our ride down HWY 190. Death defying as well. We crossed the Mississippi via the old town bridge… don’t do that. Senior twin asked if I felt we were adventurous, crazy or just plain dumb. I did not know a certain answer until after the “spill way” later that day.

“What the heck was that?!”

“A Spill Way.”

“What the heck is a Spill Way?”

“A very long stretch of road extremely dangerous for bicyclists. “

“yes. A spill way is a very long stretch of road extremely dangerous for bicyclists.”

“The Louisiana road map had an area marked red on this route. I was wondering what it would be like.”

Hero twin steve smiled toothily at me. A spill way is a near 10mi raised bridge with no shoulder. We didn’t talk much for a while after that.

The wind today was always temporarily subdued when an eighteen wheeler would rush past giving us a forward push and scandalously blowing my jersey about. It gave me a Marilyn Monroe feeling… for bikers. That and I’m making sex with the Kennedys.

We bed in Oppaleusence tonight in the park behind the firestation. This is a good tip for bicyclist traveling thru. If taking 190W, turn left at the Checkers (Main st.?) and follow it, past the bends, to the firestation…its maybe a mile. You can follow the paved path besides the station to the large park where they let travelers camp. Very sweet.

I went on mission and a bought two tall boys for the twins and we ate, drank, and were chatty cathys on the baseball diamond’s visitor benches. Around midnight we were awoken by the thunderstorm that washed in. but it was only a bother through sound and unconcerned twins swiftly return to slumber. in the morning there was no evidence of any watery weather. we question our sanity.

hero twin kate signing out.

VERY IMPORTANT: we’re looking for a place to stay in Austin on Thanksgiving. Please let us know if anyone knows fans of filthy holiday guests, or you can come to Austin and join us for gluttony before our 11 day stretch of no man’s land. Yeah.

 

11/13

Au revoir, New Orleans! Bill and Erin, you are the plush center of all that is good. Thank you again for all your generosity. And the fact that you toured the US on a tandem bicycle (both of them are 6’3”. their bike is a beast. Far too cool for school).

Bill told me that the traditional French touring method is to load the front of your bicycle and put very little weight on the back. I’m going to try this. I’ve also taken to smoking cigarettes while I ride and filling my bottles only with wine while wearing a striped shirt. Oh, we do have fun with the French.

We rode the levee out of New Orleans (after another cyclist flagged as down to tell us we were being a couple of suicidal darns on the main road. Thank you again, kind sir) which is a dedicated bicycle trail separated and raised from the main street which parallels HWY 61, the route to Baton Rouge. It is quite pleasant and we have a fine view of the mighty Mississippi leading to many a wise remarks on what the hero twins were the best at East of the Mississippi. We were pound to be the fasted hero twins east of the Mississippi, but also the most gelatin like. I don’t recall how that can up. Unfortunately for the levee route it ends after about 20 miles and then it’s to a very unforgiving highway darn. Poor shoulder conditions led to grumpy twins which was only relieved when we reached our stay in Baton Rouge. Riders, please avoid this place… the roads of Baton Rouge, not our hosts. They were stellar and come greatly recommended. Good looking too.

Things we’ve learned about Louisiana that evening were that it is the only state which goes by Napoleonic Law. And I have no idea what that means. It somehow is responsible for the existence of Parishes in lieu of counties, and tiny tiny French people. And no one knows why the word “corp.” is below the city’s title. But it feels ominous.

Hero twin kate signing out.

Ps. I still have not tried the boiled green peanuts sold on the side of the road or gone through a drive thru daiquiri shop (which are everywhere). Apparently they give you two straws; one to drink from and the other to be unopened when you toss out the first just as the copper pulls you over. Gosh bless this place.

11/12

More New Orleansy things. To steve that means 6 hours computering at the coffee shop. New Orleans is so techy.

Most of today probably is not of much interest so I’ll take this chance to relate the HERO TWINS’ TRUTHS that we have uneartherd thus far. Enjoy!

1.       If there’s a creek, there’s a hill.

2.       If there’s an intersection, there’s a pile of gravel.

3.       If it’s Mississippi, don’t bicycle.

4.       If it’s French, no good beers… excluding Stella and only for Dway.

5.       If steve is hungry, he is grumpy.

6.       If steve doesn’t sleep 12 hours, he is grumpy… this one usually isn’t a problem.

7.       If kate has no vegetables, she is grumpy.

8.       If kate is sober, she is grumpy.

9.       If vegetables gave you a decent buzz, kate would find euphoria.

10.   Heck gravel. And heck sand too, while we’re at it. But seriously, heck gravel.

11.   Roosters are liars.

Hero twin kate signing out

Awwww yeaaaahhh…

The photos are done!  Why are you reading this?  Go look at our adventures!  Now it’s time to get the heck out of Dodge and into Baton Rouge…

-Steve