Jimmy
Watching Dad drive away was harder than any of us imagined. It wasn’t the loss of the truck, the loss of nutritious meals or bluegrass music in the evenings; we lost a member of our journey, we lost #4; we lost a friend, a guide, a source of endless jokes and laughter; we lost Jim . . . my Dad!

He became more a part of our journey than we could have possibly imagined, but as we watched him pull off in the red truck one final time, our feelings of sadness and confusion were replaced with excitement as the next part of our adventure began.

We turned to our task of squeezing all we need to live for 2 months onto our 2-wheeled touring bikes. As we pedaled our first day through Missouri with a fellow “76 Trail” rider, Bill, we swerved, laughed, bumped into each other, resituated, retightened straps, and learned how to ride all over again. It really wasn’t too bad, but we had more than a few giggles as we rode into our first stop in Missouri where a Farmington Little League team invited us to their cookout and free entry into a division D semi-pro baseball game.

Tomorrow we enter the Missouri territory we’ve been warned about by others on the trail, locals, and bike shop owners. We survived the mountains of Virginia, the wild dogs of Kentucky, and we look forward to the beautiful scenery the Ozarks of Missouri will bring.

With the things we carry, our 2-wheel pedaling machines, and the continued generosity of strangers, we now aim for Kansas . . . 300 miles away it is the last state that stands between us and our westward dreams.

We can’t thank our S.A.G. driver enough for the jump start on the adventure and everlasting memories. We miss you already and you remain with us in spirit!