Two years ago, riding with Jon from Peoria, IL, to LaCrosse, WI, we had to make an unplanned detour to Clinton, Iowa. (We stayed in a rather skeevy hotel, where—in the hotel parking lot before we departed—Jon got to see a woman being “cuffed and stuffed” into a patrol car.)
Last year, when I was biking the Erie Canal, the route did not actually pass through Clinton, New York, but DeWitt Clinton built the damn canal, and his name’s all over the place, so that counts as a Clinton.
Today, Route 66 passed through the town of Clinton, Oklahoma. I’m fairly certain that there are no further Clintons along the way in the remaining four states, so I’m gonna take the three-peat and call it a day.
Today’s ride started out chilly—Jon and I both wore jackets—but the sun was out and the wind was at our backs; it didn’t take too long for the jackets to make their way back into our packs. (The missing weight of the unneeded clothing that I mailed home yesterday was noticeable.)
We left Weatherford a little after 9. Not too long into the ride, we passed another Route 66 cyclist heading east. He was by himself, and was carrying a good amount of gear, but I don’t think he was bikepacking; he was probably credit-card camping like us. He smiled and waved back at us, but the wind was in his teeth; he had a hard day ahead of him, so we didn’t pause to chat. The wind will be at his back soon enough, and we’ll be the ones laboring.
The day went almost entirely according to plan (that is, after we had to double-back following a wrong turn that put us on an I-40 on-ramp). We took a snack/drink break in Canute about noon, at which time we booked our rooms for tonight. (There was a brief moment of anxiety when our first choices were already booked, but we found good rooms at a good price at Comfort Inn.) We arrived in Elk City in the early afternoon and headed toward our primary destination: a laundromat. We stopped for lunch at a Carl’s Jr. right around the corner from the laundry, and booked our rooms for Monday night. (We now feel pretty confident that we’ll be in Groom on Monday, but there’s only one place to stay… and we ain’t taking any chances.) It took us about an hour to get some clean clothes—unlike last year’s laundry day in Springfield, MO, we did not have any long conversations with thrice-married process servers who like to de-haze people’s headlights with ant poison. (Yes, that happened.) We were checked in to our rooms by 4:15.
Perhaps the best part of the day was light traffic, so Jon and I could ride side-by-side and talk for most of the day. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: people with whom you can travel long distances and (so far) not drive each other mad, they’re worth their weight in gold.
Brian Blasco would be quite peeved by the superabundance of exclamation marks. Three periods would work just fine.
Rideworthy 