And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’
– Kris Kristofferson
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin’ city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin’ comin’ down
(Yeah, I know: the title of this post doesn’t match the lyrics; sue me.)
Sunday morning came down hard for both me and Jon, right off the bat, as we both bottomed-out on Wordle. I got _O_LY, and I went with FOLLY, HOLLY, GOLLY, and MOLLY. The word was JOLLY. A new streak begins tomorrow morning.
For the first part of the day, we weren’t kings of the road by any means. Although the wind was behind us, it was cold—the wind chill was in the mid 30’s. We stopped for an early lunch in Sayre because (a) we needed to warm up, and (b) we weren’t likely to find any decent places to eat for another 35 miles. As we entered the town on its main thoroughfare, I was stunned by how utterly quiet it was. Hell, it was quieter than the HVAC unit in my hotel room last night. The buildings were shielding the street from the wind, so even that ambient noise was absent. It was Sunday morning in small town Oklahoma. A pickup truck would roll through the main intersection, and then it would go quiet again. It was eerie, but also quite serene.
Then, after lunch, things changed for the better. The sun broke through the clouds, the day warmed, we shed our windbreakers, and we had the road almost all to ourselves for the rest of the way.
We spent a nice stretch biking on the Roger Miller (hence the title of this post) Memorial Highway through Erick, Oklahoma, where Miller grew up. (He was born in Fort Worth, but his father died when he was only a year old, and Roger and two brothers were sent to live with his father’s brother on a farm outside Erick.) Both Jon and I failed to take a picture of a rather nice Roger Miller mural. Commemorative murals are all along Route 66, and most of them look like they were rendered by a graduate of the “Draw Pedro” School of Art. The Roger Miller mural in Erick was top-drawer.
Two things made the afternoon ride less pleasant, although neither was catastrophic: first, we’re climbing. As you can see from the elevation profile below, we went steadily uphill after we left Sayre. Second, the wind is shifting. By the time we pulled into Shamrock this afternoon, it was in our faces: not strong or gusting, but definitely in our faces. Tomorrow, it comes from the SSW; Tuesday, the last leg into Amarillo, it’s coming at us. We could only dodge the wind gods for so long….
Right now, I’m listening to a yappy dog in the room next door. I’ve called the front desk, and the nice young woman there is attending to it… I hope. I could use a little “sleepin’ city sidewalk” silence tonight.
p.s.- The dog stopped barking.
Rideworthy 