So I was riding north along the Mississippi River Trail, just minding my own business, when I noticed two bicycle riders coming from the opposite direction. They had panniers on their bikes, so I assumed they were on some kind of bike tour or something.
Being a bit of a bike tourist myself, I thought it would be nice to provide the random strangers with a hardy Minnesota greeting. I got my riding partner/cartoon alter-ego to agree.
Their names were Scott and Rocky and they came all the way to Minneapolis in order begin a bike tour all the way to Rome, which is in Italy, which is in Europe. They turned out to be really nice people, so I turned around and rode with them on the second half of their first day. Hopefully I wasn’t too irritating. It probably helped that I stuck G-2 back in my pocket shortly after introducing him to the couple. Man, that guy can irritate anybody.
Most of the time we rode in a nice little pace line in this order: Scott, ME, Rocky. From my position, I was continually impressed with Scott’s amazingly consistent pedaling cadence. Uphill, downhill, level, it was always the same.
We engaged in conversation when there weren’t too many cars hounding us. We took pictures. We went past the sprawling 3M plant where Post-It notes and Scotch Tape were invented. We agreed that none of us have used Post-It notes for quite a long time.
Early on, I said something like “the heat isn’t all that bad.” Heck, it was only about 88-degrees. By the time we reached Scott and Rocky’s motel in a town called Hastings, I was hotter than hell. I wondered if it would be too much of an intrusion to follow them into their room and pass out on the bed. I didn’t do that though. I just rode home. While waiting for traffic to pass so I could cross Highway 61, I looked back and saw Rocky doing laps around the motel because she needed another mile to reach her self-imposed minimum of 42 miles.
That wasn’t the end of the day though. I managed to horn in on their dinner plans too. I even brought The Feeshko.
For some reason, Scott has been claiming I owe him a beer. That claim has been going on for so long that neither of us can remember WHY I owed him that beer . . . or even IF I really owed him that beer. Today, I officially paid my imaginary debt.
From there, we went to the Lock & Dam Eatery a couple doors down from the brewery. The food was pretty darn good, but the company was even better. The proof is in the pictures.
I know Scott will be writing about this day on his Cycleblaze journal. I hope my recollections of the events match his. If not, I think you should believe me over him. I mean, can you really trust a guy who tried to trick me into giving him my prized Caribou Coffee cycling jersey.
P.S. Scott and Rocky picked up the tab for tonight’s meal. Now I seem to be indebted to him again.