Blog 12

False Security

It was one trillion degrees in Kansas, and there was not a single tree for days to escape the sun; you could see for miles in any direction. McKinley and I decided to kick Kansas in the ass by riding in the middle of the night, but, even then it was in the 90's. Still, it was cooler under the moonlight. 

We were riding along a very long, desolate, stretch of road. The only thing visible in the middle of the Kansas night were factory lights, so it gave a false sense that people were out there, somewhere in the vastness. 

It’s like there’s a city out there! 

I heard something running alongside me, but my shitty headlight only illuminated my wheel. I had already been used to riding at 4 or 5 am, so hearing animals scuffling in the brush was typical. Whatever it was made a loud yipping noise, a sound unfamiliar to me. 

McKinley, what the fuck is that!?

Its presence felt dog-like, but I knew it wasn't a dog; the bark was different than anything I’ve heard. I stood up and cranked harder on my pedals, rocking my bike left-to-right, left-to-right, the saddle tapping my inner thighs. It chased alongside us for maybe a minute, but a minute can be a long time; whatever it was decided we weren’t a threat.

Back to focusing on the false city ahead, the false sense of people out there in the great wide open. We’d be in a town in ten miles.

Almost no cars passed us, but a pick-up truck did, and pulled to the side. A male driver got out and waited for us to get closer. 

You girls shouldn’t be out here, it’s dangerous. Why don’t you put your bikes in my truck and I’ll drive you ahead. 

Shitshitshitshitshit. 

Uhh, no thanks, we’re just fine. Have a good night.

I couldn’t see his face because it was swallowed up by the darkness, but I was terrified. My only immediate weapon was dog spray, dangling off of my shifter cables in front of my handlebars. The faceless man got in his truck and drove off into the desolate Kansas night. I focused on the promise land of people ahead. Just keep pedaling, I thought. 

Yawn yawn yawn. We had only been riding for a few hours, so it was way too soon to crap out. My circadian rhythm was telling me it was time to sleep though, not ride a bike. 

I’m exhausted, McKinley. I don’t know how I’m going to ride for the next eight hours, I can barely function. 

We landed in Scott City and sat down on the curb of a vacant gas station, figuring out our next move. A police officer pulled in and grilled us with the normal what-the-hell-are-you-doing questions; admittedly, we looked homeless and out of place.

Well, we’ve been riding since Oregon. We’re exhausted. Some yipping, dog-like animal chased us back there. Any idea what it was?

Oh, that was definitely a coyote, we have lots of them around here.

We felt like total badasses, warriors of the night. 

You girls can sleep in the park, and just be careful that the sprinklers don’t get ya.  

We pitched our tents in a park on the edge of a town that didn’t feel completely safe. Here we are, land of the people, I thought. I pictured the false city skyline as I drifted off to sleep.