I peek my head under the tent’s rainfly, carefully avoiding the cowpies. Immediately, I’m engaged in a stare down with a wet and disgruntled cow. There’s an entire herd of them surrounding our tent. Cali wakes up quicker than she has the entire trip, frantically begins packing and tells me to take my red coat off.
This is Wyoming. Natural shelter does not exist. Last night we’re camped in a cow pasture, fifteen yards from heavily trafficked railroad tracks. The night before we ate McDonalds french fries sandwiched between two trailer parks at the KOA in Laramie,WY.
In the first week of the Playground Tour, Cali and I are already neck deep in the oddities of bicycle touring. The day after waking up in a cow pasture, we’re drinking craft brew on the high school soccer field in Lander, WY with a hundred other muddy drunkards.
After making a quick comment on a surly looking fellows bier stein, Cali and I find ourselves in the workshop of the former owner of the Pedal House in Laramie, WY. Coincidentally, earlier that day I was explaining how much of a miracle it’d be to track down a bar end shifter in the middle of Wyoming. Now we’re drinking beers, shooting the shit and getting Cali’s bike back in top shape without spending a dime.
The road on two wheels is a funny, wonderful place.
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