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Madisonville, Crockett, and more from TEXAS

By
Judy
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0

Look at the stairwell in this old house.
You’re looking at the 25 stairs through the entryway of the home. Magnificent…

The famed Washateria in Madisonville, Tx.

Entering Houston Co…. just to give you an idea what the scenery is like.

Mural from Crockett, Tx. Funny… Crockett was named after Davy Crockett,
even though he only spent one night in the community.
Then he went to San Antonio and was killed at the Alamo.

My tired face after climbing Hyder Hill. It was tough… a man pulled over to check on me while I rested by the city sign just to see if I was okay.

Sat on the corner with these old timers and listened to them play music.
The one had a Gibson mandolin.
They helped me find a place to stay in this historic mansion in Nacodoches.

Some of the funky wallpaper in one of the 18 rooms in the house (in first pic above)

June 2nd – Texas A&M, George Bush Museum

By
Judy
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0

On the Texas A&M campus, students leave pennies at the feet of the Lawrence Sullivan ‘Sully’ Ross statue hoping it will bring them good luck when taking exams.



Sitting in the president’s chair at the George Bush Library Museum.
It was the one picture that turned out – the docent was camera challenged and cut off my head on all the other shots. I’m applying for her job.

Next to the Dixie Chicken, a trendy campus hangout, there’s this alley FULL of bottle caps. That kind of puts UW-Madison to shame.

More Austin Pics

By
Judy
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0

Outside Lance Armstrong’s bike shop and cafe.

Pics from the LBJ Library and Museum in Austin
(above and below)


Saturday Farmer’s Market in downtown Austin


FUN Fran’s restaurant on Congress Ave. just south of downtown Austin


LBJ – although some college student thought he looked like
political commentator Bill O’ Reilly

Dawn at the Alamo – painting in the Senate chambers at the Austin St. Capitol

There is no basement at the Alamo

Pics from Austin, TX

By
Judy
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1

Blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughn – statue overlooks downtown Austin


This was the coolest sculpture located right outside the State Capitol in Austin.



ABOVE AND BELOW:
Jammers get ready to sprint.


Bloody Pick A from the Hell Cats roller derby team. The writing on the back of her shorts reinstilled the message for anyone who was lost – it read, ‘I like it bloody.’


Austin, Texas

By
Judy
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0

Austin, Texas – It took six days to bike from Dallas to Austin, Texas. I headed direct south and was smacked in the face each morning with a consistent 20-mile-per-hour wind.

Roads in central Texas have been relatively flat; early-morning blue-gray skies are accompanied by furnace-like temperatures in the 90s; by 3 p.m. the intense heat makes your skin feel crisp.

My stay in Austin has been made simple by friends Deb and her husband Robin.

The couple are revamping a second home and it’s the perfect stay for the next few days while exploring a city with the slogan, ‘Austin – keep it weird.‘

‘Weird’ isn’t negative or intimidating – it’s like wearing your favorite iron-on t-shirt, accessorizing with a rub-on tattoo, throwing a little rat terrier in your bike basket next to a Wham-o Frisbee and some sunscreen you’re off to mix with the cutting-edge music scene, and a genuine love of life – ‘Run, sleep, live, repeat’ is the message on one runner’s t-shirt.

The word ‘sit’ is in not in the Austin vocabulary; as townies and tourists alike are constantly taking advantage of the rivers, trails, parks, and activities the city has to offer.

PLACES TO GO – THINGS TO DO..

Bicycles tend to rule the road in Austin. It’s like a convention came to town and stayed.

The women are as serious about biking as the men. A quote from Dropout, a bicycling book for women, notes, “female bikers in Austin think about whether or not shorts would work underneath that dress before they buy it.”

There are specific bicycling lanes in Austin, bridges, paths, and a bike store or six – every few blocks.

Mellow Johnny’s Bike Shop at 4th and Nueces is owned by Tour de France champ and Austin native Lance Armstrong.

Full of gear, posters and a series of Armstrong’s actual racing bikes; there’s also an attached coffee shop, Juan Pelota Cafe.

The name translates to ‘one ball’ – a sharp stick-in-the-eye reference from Armstrong to the testicular cancer that tried to take him down.

Independent businesses like The Spider House Cafe (think The Safehouse in Milwaukee) keep kitchy alive in the community.

The interior of the downtown establishment is lit with strings of colorful Christmas lights surrounded by old-school paintings of Jesus, cherubic statues, and old tin toys that include a train and Ferris wheel with a comical face in the center circle.

The Saturday downtown Farmer’s Market takes over the entire Republic Square Park.

Ripe peaches and raspberries overflow containers and fight for space on tables weighed down with bountiful vegetables including large spears of leeks, radishes the size of ping-pong balls, and ripe red tomatoes.

Farmers in straw cowboys hats market Austin organics; and homemade products like gluten-free peach cobbler.

A sold-out sign hangs by the Thai omelet tacos and a crowd is forming around a booth touting an upcoming program, ‘Anyone can cook – not everyone should.’

In the evening, the bats at the Congress Avenue Bridge draw a regular crowd.

Just after dusk about 1.5 million Mexican free-tailed bats fan out from under the bridge in waves to take part in a nightly feast.

It’s like waiting for the fireworks on the Fourth of July, only the bats fly unbelievably close. They swarm in packs and leave the stage quickly, like spoiled rock n’ roll stars.

Below the Congress Avenue Bridge runs Lady Bird Lake. Hundreds of people take advantage of the $15 an hour rentals of kayaks, boats and paddle boards.

Up the road is the Texas State Capitol which features a wide array of Texas history including a pair of paintings by H.A. McArdle.

The paintings feature a graphic account of Dawn at the Alamo on March 6, 1836 and The Triumph of Texas Independence in April 1836.

Interesting to me were the chandeliers in the Senate chambers that spelled out the word “Texas” in lights.

Also eye opening was the question from a 20-something in our tour group who asked about the life-size portrait of conservative political commentator Bill O’Reilly.

It was President Lyndon B. Johnson; but yeah, there was some resemblance.

LBJ PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY…

The Lyndon Baines Johnson Library Museum on the University of Texas campus is incredible.

Three floors of photos, memorabilia and history from Johnson’s birth through his presidential career.

One interesting narrative focuses on Johnson’s second campaign for U.S. Senate, where he would fly into a community and throw his hat from a helicopter as it banked over the crowd.

His staff would be required to retrieve the straw hat – even if it meant prying it away from a 10-year-old boy.

The museum highlights LBJ’s election in 1960 as John F. Kennedy’s running mate and then Nov. 22, 1963 when he was sworn in as the 36th President of the United States and shouldered with the task of leading a grieving nation and world.

Lady Bird Johnson said of her husband, “An exciting man to live with and an exhausting man to keep up with.”

During the Johnson administration 3,018 public and private laws were enacted by Congress and signed by the President. Of these, 207 were fundamental law which changed the way the nation lives.

Johnson wanted to be known as the education president but wound up with war instead.

Johnson deemed 1968 The Nightmare Year and said it was, “..one of the most agonizing years as president ever spent in the White House.”

Despite his accomplishments, Johnson’s term included the assassinations of JFK, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr. and fallout from the Vietnam War.

NORMA…

In a fit of spontaneity, I rode shotgun with Deb and Robin to their home in San Antonio.

The quick day trip allowed me to bike San Antonio, check out the famed River Walk and tour the Alamo.

Yes, I asked to see the basement at the Mission.

Docent Bob was less than impressed and said he’s heard the comment more times than he can count.

“It’s incredible what an influence Pee Wee Herman had on multiple generations,” he said.

Despite all the attractions in San Antonio, I was fascinated by Robin’s 83-year-old aunt Norma who lived with the family.

Norma was 5-feet-tall, light red hair, a spitfire with a strong Cuban accent; imagine if Edith Bunker channeled Ricky Ricardo.

“Whut chew doin’ – biking?” she asked rolling her eyes and whispering ‘loco’ under her breath.

Although Norma’s face was drawn by age, she maintained a meticulous appearance with well-coiffed hair and a matching robin’s-egg blue outfit.

Her jewelry was sparse except for a silver bracelet of butterflies and fish that jangled from her wrist as she patted the belly of her small black dog.

“My baby so good,” she cooed.

Norma never married; she spent her life taking care of her mother.

She said she dated a bit, remembering the Cuban tradition of how she had to have chaperones.

These days, she has eyes for just one man.

“I likes Vin Diesel,” she said bluntly, casting a distracted gaze over my shoulder.

Norma spent a good part of her day engrossed in hard-core action movies.

I was evidently in the way of the 65-inch television where she was caught up in the high-volume thriller xXx, starring her he-man Diesel and Samuel L. Jackson.

Silently, Norma sat locked in on the action, a bit of a smile on her face as the bloody violence played out on the big screen with Vin Diesel mowing down a team of ragtag assassins.

It was deceptive to initially see Norma with a Wheel-of-Fortune demeanor and then find she had tiger blood in her veins.

The feisty Cuban could talk smack and recite lines from Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

As the movie credits rolled Norma packed up her chair pillow and called it a night stating there was only going to be “panky panky on the telebision” the rest of the night.

ROLLER DERBY…

Spent an evening at my first banked-track roller derby watching the TXRD Lonestar Rollergirls.

Friends of my hosts in Austin stopped with tickets and invited me along.

Roller derby is a mix of glitter, glam and World-Wrestling-Federation-style entertainment.

Participants are a motley mix dressed in ripped fishnet stockings, leopard-skin skirts, and low-cut shirts tagged with names meant to intimidate including Maya Mayhem, Honey Homicide and Dawna Destruction.

The evening’s program featured The Cherry Bombs against Putas Del Fuego.

This was not a competition for sissies.

“You skate at your own risk,” said Glitterotica A.K.A. Julie Hunter, co-captain of The Hell Cats.

At 31, Hunter had been skating roller derby for five seasons.

“The sport instills confidence; there’s a bit of sex appeal but it’s hard-knock competition so you’d better have good insurance,” she said.

Accessories in roller derby include helmets, elbow and knee pads; the post-event six pack often times substitutes as an ice pack for bruises, better known as derby kisses.

“You can get your aggression out,” said The Freakin Irican, a 10-year-old on the Sparkling City Roller Dollz from Corpus Christi, Texas.

The Dollz are rink rats who don’t play with Barbies – if they do, it’s only to practice hip checking them across the room.

The Roller Dollz made the trip to Austin to watch the big girls play.

“It’s fun if you love to skate and it’s better if you like to hit,” said Kay – Krusher, a 16-year-old on the Dollz.

Body checks, shoulder blocks, random elbows and an intentional shove are all part of roller derby.

Dollz coach Angie Gonzalez said it’s a good sport that keeps the girls off the streets.

“And away from the boys,” she said. “The girls love it; they never miss practice.”

Gonzalez said the Drew Barrymore movie Whip It starring Ellen Page had a big influence on the popularity of roller derby.

“The sport is still growing – but look at this crowd,” she said.

Roller derby in Austin used to draw 700 but the Saturday-night venue at the Palmer Events Center saw attendance top 3,500.

Questioned whether there’s any crying in roller derby, Gonzalez said definitely not; only to be quickly contradicted.

“But coach I cried all day at practice – look at these bruises,” said one girl lifting her shorts to show off a purple and yellow bruise about as big as a baby’s head.

“I cried, too,” said another.

“It’s something we’re still working on,” said Gonzalez with chagrin.

SIDE NOTE…

If I had a roller derby team, we’d be The Norma’s, striking terror in teams including the famed Anne Richard’s Girls.

Norma would be my wingman and the enforcer – dressed in a spiked dog collar and a bloody teardrop running down her face.

The back of her jersey would read The Vin-dicator.

She’d jump the rope and circle the rink with a pocket dog stuffed in her bodice, grab the mic and scream, “Are jew wearing socks? Because dare about to be knocked off!’

LEAVING AUSTIN…

With my bucket-list trip accomplished, I’m leaving Austin for home. I think I’ll bike back.

More Texas pics……

By
Judy
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0

Crazy pod houses just outside Italy, Texas. Some guy made a lot of money on this fad.

Old-time ad from Dr. Pepper Museum in Waco.

Cowboy and horses outside the Chisholm Trail in Waco, Texas.





Another old-time ad from Dr. Pepper Museum in Waco.

LOOK at these gas prices! Station just outside Hewitt, Texas

My new best friend Kris – let me spend the night at his ritzy place in an uber nice subdivision outside Hewitt.

A Few Texas Pics ~~~

By
Judy
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0

Rest stop by a post office in little ole’ Irene, Texas
BELOW:
The Catfish Plantation. Owners Richard and Ann Landis standing in front of a picture where a ghost appeared in the upper right hand corner.



Found a Texas license plate on the road just outside Arlington.
I threw it on the back of my bike – one of the locals said,
“Don’t tell Gov. Rick Perry – he’ll think it’s a good idea and make us all do it.”

THAT DAMN MATT..

By
Judy
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0


West, Texas – The Senate in Austin passed a bill to legalize noodling, an old southern tradition where Texans catch catfish with their bare hands. Noodling actually involves catching a catfish by finding its underwater den, sticking your hand inside the hole, and when the fish latches on to your arm with its mouth then you haul it out.

One comment among lawmakers during debate on the bill – would noodling with your feet be legal?


On Saturday, I had a nice surprise while sitting outside a grocery in the small town of West, Texas.

A pair of teens, Taylor and Bailey, asked me about the tour and then asked me to go fishing.

We kept it old school, and used poles.


Taylor was a high school junior who wore skinny jeans, a tame Mohawk and liked punk rock.

Bailey was a high school senior, had green spear earrings and a bit of a wanna-be-rebel attitude.

Both were naturally good-hearted. We got to the fishing hole in Taylor’s old Plymouth. We had to rearrange a bit so we could push my bike in the trunk, so I had to hold a chair in my lap in the front seat.


Topics of discussion that afternoon ran the gamut from music, to college, and dreams of moving to Colorado.

We pulled in about a dozen healthy bluegill and then Taylor said, “You can spend the night at my house.”

The whole setup felt so comfortable, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.


We drove about seven miles to the small town of Aquilla where there was a welcome wagon of seven puppies.

My first red flag popped up when I entered the home and there was the “sweet smell” that uncles Cheech and Chong just left.


And there was Taylor’s mom; I think this was the first she was hearing of her house guest.


It was about 7:30 p.m. and there was still some light left; I grabbed my gloves and headed for my bike.

The drama started as Taylor’s mom came out onto the porch and yelled, “It’s okay Hun, you can stay.”

Then she doppled over to my bike and explained how she wasn’t sure if “that-damn-Matt’s going to shine around” and she just didn’t want any trouble.


Turns out “that-damn-Matt” was a kid who grew up in the house, but later got into some personal trouble and now was on the run from the law.


Taylor and Bailey were extremely reassuring – everything would be fine – and there was fish to eat, so I reluctantly stayed.


With everybody hungry, the homemade fish dinner quickly changed to pizza and ice cream.

I felt like I was at a party for a five-year-old.


With the edginess on the evening subsiding, we relaxed with a bit of King-of-the-Hill therapy, and I was ready to turn in for the night.


Taylor showed me to my bedroom. “How do you like this bed,” he said pulling on the metal-pipe headboard. “We got it out of an insane asylum.” The bed was industrial.

“Just kidding,” said Taylor. “We pulled it off the curb.” (That was one unique factor of Taylor’s personality, he liked to kid.)


When we were having pizza, he didn’t take any. After a couple minutes, I asked him if he was eating. “Yeah, I’m just waiting. I put poison on the pizza and forgot which half……. just kidding,” he said and loped into the kitchen to grab a plate.


It was prickly humor and it made my eye twitch.


Within a half hour of going to bed my fingers started cramping, I guess I was clutching my pepper spray and flashlight too tight. I flipped the covers on the bed to get more comfortable and heard something like a battery fall to the floor. Managed to find it right away; my bad… I was wrong – it was a bullet.


I stewed; it was one more stake in my flagging morale. I finally brought it to Taylor who was still watching TV. “You found that here? Swear to God we don’t even have a ……” and he stopped mid-sentence.


“That-damn-Matt,” said Taylor.


After a lot of consoling, Taylor and Bailey said everything would be fine. I needed a beer, or 12. I went back to bed and looked to lock the door, but there was no lock. Matter of fact, there wasn’t even a doorknob. An orange sock hung through the hole. I shook my head, put my faith in prayer and pepper spray, and lay down for the night in front of the door.


This was now crazy with a side of crazy.


My friends asked if I thought about leaving, and I did, every hour – 1 o’clock, 2 o’clock….

At 2:30 a.m. I heard the front door slam and shot up in bed.


I listened and before I knew it my bedroom door opened and I was face to face with “That-Damn-Matt”.

I stood up and in that moment Matt went wide-eyed and found religion. “A lady in my bedroom – Thank you Jesus,” he said with a heavy drawl that sounded like Spicoli swallowed a Texan.


Then he let go a low Beavis-and-Butthead laugh.


That-damn-Matt looked like he was 12 years old. He had a round face, shaggy bowl haircut, and said he was ready to party. I was taller, Matt was quick to point out I was older, and I was in no mood. I quickly set my boundaries using my no-nonsense voice, which included dibs on the bedroom. I turned, closed the door and flipped my sock-lock in disgust.


I spent the rest of the night with one eye open and making frequent surveillance trips with my water bottle to the kitchen. During one trip I grabbed a fillet knife off the counter and slept with it under my pillow.

At 5:30 a.m. I left with the thought, it’s all part of the adventure.

Irving, Texas – How it all began…..

By
Judy
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0

Irving, Texas – Landed about 10:30 a.m. Wednesday at Dulles Fort Worth Airport. Weather is sunny, breezy and a comfortable 72 degrees.

Limo driver, Stan, hovered and chatted with me while I put my bicycle together.

He was in his early 60s; worked himself to death by choice. He regularly put in 14-hour days but seemed to thrive on it.

“I don’t want to name drop, but I’ve driven Steven Spielberg,” he said about the movie director. And the I’m-not-bragging list continued.

“Jennifer Aniston, Adam Sandler, Michael Douglas, Angelina Jolie, Tom Cruise, …..”

He did his best to offer me some direction on Texas roads, but bicycling out of the airport was something new and he was understandably flummoxed.

Pedaling out of the airport was rather simple. Within eight miles I was in Irving – a small town, south of the airport.

I had a backpacker’s hostel lined up for my first night.

I swung over to the Dallas Irving Backpackers Guesthouse – it was a little sketchy.

A simple white house on 6th Avenue, on the edge of a business district.

There were a pair of hand-written signs on the door and a beat up van under the car park.

Instructions to visitors were spelled out in black felt marker. “Pick up phone on the left and call number listed.”

If that option didn’t work, visitors were instructed to ‘walk around the side of the building’ and see if anybody was inside to ‘let you in.’

It seemed inviting and homey, in a Jeffrey Dahmer sort of way.

The phone ‘on the left’ was a desk phone resting on the porch with a hard-line cord pinched between the closed front door. The white phone, now a tinge gray, lay under a clear plastic sheet – similar to something you’d use to tow a pile of leaves to the curb.

I peered around the side of the building and thought twice.

I managed to secure a couch in the youth room at Irving First United Methodist Church. Pastor Sean said he’d trade out the space if I’d give a brief speech to his 7th and 8th graders about my tour.

MEET TIM..

Irving, Texas has a lot of small-town charm.

Historic homes with gabled entrances and a wing-architectural style, popular in the early twentieth century.

The home of Eugene and Mary Ann Beaufford is on Main St. and part of the Irving Texas Centennial tour. It was one of the oldest houses in the community, constructed in May 1904 the property was used as an irrigated truck farm.

Another notable home belonged to Fred Joffre. An early contractor and carpenter, Joffre designed and built a California-style airplane bungalow in 1919.

A rusty, black wrought-iron fence was set along the sidewalk. A half-circle gravel driveway led to the entrance of the home which featured two simple armless rockers and a porch swing.

Pioneer Dr. Franklin Monroe Gilbert and wife Dorothy purchased the home in 1939 and for nearly 30 years patients came night and day as they knew help was available for examination, medication and emergency treatment.

Up the street was the Irving Park Veterans Memorial.

“Can you take my picture,” said a man standing alongside one of the bronze military statues.

“I need a picture to update my profile on match.com.”

His name was Tim. He was tall, a simple man with a figure of a mashed potato and I say that in a warm non-judgmental way.

Dressed in baggy blue jeans, a black Michael Jackson t-shirt tucked in his pants and cinched tight with a black belt whose front end hung out about a foot.

A green cloth bag from the Irving Texas Public Library sat on a cement bench next to Tim. It was packed full of dog-eared spiral notebooks, a half-empty plastic bottle of water and a box of Kool Aid Twist juices.

I took his disposable Kodak camera and snapped a couple photos.

“I need a full-body shot,” said Tim. (head nod to Jon Heder and Napoleon Dynamite.)

“I need my feet in the picture because the head and shoulders I’ve posted so far haven’t worked.”

Tim was a sharer and looking for love.

Some may say Tim’s picture request was a clumsy attempt at flirting. I say he was seriously set on posting an updated photo and I was the closest help available.

After the photo shoot, we talked. And when I say ‘we’ I mean Tim. He laid out the combo platter that was his life.

Tim talked about working 23 years at K-mart in Michigan, getting sacked, wandering a bit, living in homeless shelters, and his job driving a box truck.

Tim blamed the demise in that endeavor on a no-good partner.

“He was in a lot of trouble because his wife caught him cheating with her sister,” said Tim.

“I won’t tell you his name, because you might figure out who he is.”

Blank stare.

All the while chatting, Tim kept his arm wrapped around the shoulder of the bronze statue. It was the same pose he held in his soon-to-be-published photo.

EAT AT JOES…

Took off first thing Thursday morning to Joe’s restaurant on Irving Boulevard.

The menu featured Texas Chili omelets, ‘delicious homemade biscuits, and Big Bird pancakes with two eggs, hash browns and bacon or sausage.

After putting in a watching-my-figure order of bottomless cup of coffee, two eggs, and salsa on the side – I had regrets.

The couple at the booth next to me ordered the hot cakes; they came with a pail of blueberries dumped over the top.

Texas – does it big. Everything is big.

TIDBITS…

– A man I met at Joe’s restaurant in Irving sent me an e-mail. Ramey Faries wrote: “Met you at Joe’s this morning. I meet Uncle Dick every morning for breakfast at Joe’s. Just wanted to say you were a breath of fresh air, always great to meet interesting people. It was funny to walk in and see someone sitting with him at the table. I hope this finds you having made it to Waco safely. I noticed on your blog many pictures from your adventures. If you have a favorite you should send it to me; I do oil-on-canvas paintings and would love to do one of something important to you.

– Stopped at a small church outside Arlington to fill my water bottles and met Bill Dunn. He was the only man amongst a group of women playing dominos.

Bill had black, round, super sized Harry-Potter glasses, a small tuft of white hair on his head and another on his chin, and he reminded me of the Colonel from KFC.

Bill was also an Army veteran. “I was in the Cold War and over in Germany in 1961,” he said.

Stationed in the artillery division Bill talked about how the Germans would break into communications. “They’d play the German National Anthem; it sounded like a funeral dirge,” he said.

And although it was more than five decades ago, Bill still lamented missing Elvis during a USO show.

“We had only 30 minutes to try and see him,” said Bill.

“I had to pull a shift and couldn’t get there on time and went back to duty.”

Bill and the church group invited me to stay for lunch. They dumped the dominoes and spent the next hour talking about whether their Governor Rick Perry would run for president, how few of them voted for the referendum for the new Dallas stadium, and there was a lot of disagreement on the concealed carry law.

Midlothian Texas – Monday, May 23

By
Judy
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0

Tim at the Irving Veterans Memorial


Doris, from the Town Cafe in Italy, Texas
– she made my breakfast that morning –
two eggs and salsa.
Doris said she’d have to quit the diner soon but didn’t know what she’d do with herself.

Look at how TALL this corn is! Photo taken just outside of Venus, Texas.


Bill from church outside Arlington.
He spent the lunch hour talking about his service in WWII and Elvis.
***

Midlothian, Texas – If a person at a library offers directions with the caveat, “I’m really bad at directions,” that’s often an honest, spot-on admission.

I stopped at the public library in the very small town of Venus, about 35 miles south of Dallas.

It was late, 4:30 p.m. and I had about 50 miles on the day.

I say late because normally I find a place to stay by that time and with darkness around the corner and miles from my destination city, I was starting to feel a little nervous.

I confided in the librarian I was looking for help and a church or safe haven for the night. She suggested I try the Cowboy Church off Highway 67.

Wow – Cowboy Church, this must be Texas.

I had been biking much of the day on Highway 67 so when the librarian said ‘you go over a bridge and it’s on your left,’ I didn’t equate bridge with a highway overpass.

About seven miles out of town the sheriff’s deputies made it clear. I was rerouted again – with an escort.

I’m such an embarrassment for bicyclists and the state of Wisconsin. (Mind you, during these situations I tell officers I’m from Illinois.)

Off the highway and through a mile of forest, I’m completely lost. The road empties onto a main street in the small community of Midlothian.

I stop at a park and seek advice from a series of football moms sitting in folding chairs along the sideline.

All of them point to the parking lot and a man sitting in a Ford Explorer.

It’s Pastor Bruce Smilie from Crosspointe Church and he allows me to spend the night in the youth room at his church.

HIGHLIGHTS…

– Spent the day visiting Dallas Stadium and Texas Rangers ballpark in Arlington. Small world – on my way into the stadium I saw a number of Brewers shirts and questioned the group, which ended up being from Wisconsin Lutheran College. Once inside, Heidi behind the front desk said she was from Campbellsport.

– Spent the night at a tiny First Baptist Church in small town of Italy. Found the pastor’s daughter, Ronda Cockerham, working at City Hall. She let me into the church and handed me a basket of soaps and a towel. I took the gift more so as one of hospitality than a subtle message that I had much of my day’s journey stuck to me.

– Italy’s claim to fame is it’s the hometown of Dale Evans.

– Passing through Waxahachie I took a tour of the Catfish Plantation. The restaurant, set in a home built in 1895, is said to be haunted, and has been featured on several national shows, including the Travel Channel and the Discovery Channel’s Ghost Lab.

Sitting on the front porch, I paged through hundreds of letters in a three-ring binder – testimonials of guests who witnessed ghosts. Sightings included things like “While I was at Catfish Plantation the doors attacked me, my food was floating, the lights were flickering,” and Carolyn Horsak wrote that she was “eating my shrimp dinner when I picked up a shrimp to dip in the sauce and noticed there was already a bite taken.”

“That book’s a bunch of hogwash,” said a woman who walked through the porch like a bull in a china shop with an opinion.

Shane Sparks was the manager and executive chef at Catfish Plantation. “So many of those people don’t know the difference between a breeze blowing through the building and a ghost.”

Shane was a large, saucy woman with feathers dangling from hoop earrings. She was also on a mission to set the record straight.

“We do have ghosts, but so many people come here thinking they’ll see one – they freak themselves out,” she said.

Matter of fact, many customers got carried away, especially in the bathroom.

“We had to put up a sign “No playin” because people would be screamin’ in the bathroom if we had a short circuit and one of the light bulbs would flicker.”

Shane rolled her eyes – she had little patience for amateurs.

“I’ve actually seen the ghost,” said Shane, running through a list of examples about how a ghost would really push open a door or appear in a picture. “One of the ghosts actually slapped my 13-year-old daughter on the arm.

“I wasn’t mad, because we all felt like giving her a crack that day – it’s just that the ghost beat us to it,” she said.

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