32: Cleveland, TX; Flat tires, a young guitar player, and many more biscuits and gravy

This was another one of those days.  Hot air and flat tires and being cut-off early.  But, also, for making connections.

So, I start out brilliantly, with a great breakfast and good people in Montgomery.  I make great time and start riding through the trees.  45 miles in like two and half hours, so I stop at a gas station after going through Cleveland town proper, to get a drink and some icecream.  I have a great conversation with the Pakistani owner, who gives me my refreshments on the house.  I had a long day planned, and feel the kick, that I'm going to make it.  About ten feet from the turnoff to the station, my tire goes flat.

I accept it, this is the name of the game on this trip, the flip from bad to good in mere seconds.  I'm getting better at dealing with the rollercoastering.  So, I simply get off the bike, walk back to the shade on the side of the building and, though I pretend to be stoic, somewhat grumbling, investigate.  A fish hook!  Of course!  This was also a bait shop; in the fridge next to the red bull were containers of live worms and on the aisle across from the candybars flys and rods and hats.

Covered in grease, patch applied, I struggle to get the tire back on, finally do it when a man on his way out asks if I need any help, says he's sort of the local bike guy.  I tell him thank you, thank you, but it looks like I might have got it.  I reunite with the station attendant, who thought I was long gone, not out causing trouble in his parking lot, wash me hands and set off again.

So proud to have successfully managed the change in under thirty minutes, I'm almost singing, though drenched in sweat from the thickening humidity, when I turn onto a new, even sunnier highway and about five miles later feel the wobble again.  Oh, this is going to be unpleasant, I thought; I knew I'd probably pinched the tube or something (though how it could have held up for fifteen miles if that was the case is hard to say.)  Anyway, I start to change the tire again.  I find two other holes, patch them, and am wrestling the tire on, when a car pulls up.

"We have to stop meeting like this," the man says.  It was the same fellow from up the road.

He and his wife step out, introduce themselves, and say, "Come on, get in, we live a couple miles down the road.  Let's take the bike, get out of the heat, have something to eat and we'll get you off and running again.  This time, I take them up on their offer.

Juan and Marsha Beltran, and their brilliant son Jacob were such cool cats when they asked if I'd like to just stay for the night, start out again early, I, again, took them up on it.  Plus, I was feeling a little ill.  Sometimes I think Texas was a big monster trying to eat me, and it was quite nice to hide from him.  Besides, I never knew how, but at the start of each leg (roughly each week), I planned for an unexpected half or full day's break somewhere in the middle.

Jacob and I hung out, he played me some music, showed me his wall of fame--personal fame, or the little things he'd found iconic in his life.  He took my patchy, useless bike tube (we bought a fresh one), and put it up there.  I was so honored, so amused, so touched.

I hope I get to see those guys again, maybe at one of Jacob's concerts, when he's famous!