Meeting Glenn Near Gordo, Alabama (Flat Tire #10)
Photo Above: The westerly view of Highway 82 near Gordo, Alabama.
This is the spot where I changed a tire tube.
A Local Pulls Over And Offers Help
The pebbles and crumbly pieces of asphalt increased east of Gordo
and I kept my guard up. Watch that road!
By now, I almost had a built-in radar for messy roads and items that might cause flats.
Then it happened ... Flat Tire #10!
I was disappointed alright. I took a deep breath and captured the view of the highway
from where I had just come from. I was not there for long before a Ford SUV pulled over.
"I'm just here if you need help." said the man,
"I'm a bicyclist myself and I know it can be humiliating to be changing a tire on a highway like this."
We immediately connected. I told him about my bike across America trip and it turned out
he enjoys riding long distances himself and has a desire to bicycle across America someday.
Alas, like many men, the common obstacles of having family and work responsibilities are his largest roadblocks.
He talked about possibly taking one to two weeks off each summer and riding shorter portions
of the route with his buddies each year. That's actually not a bad idea!
His name was Glenn (small right photo) and he gave me his business card.
"If you need any help just call me. I'm driving to Tuscaloosa and will be coming back later today."
I did not need any help at the moment, although it would have been nice, I suppose, to have
just sat there and let him change the tire. Not that I would have ever asked him to. No,
this was my flat tire on my journey.
This was my baby, and similar to changing a dirty diaper of one of your own children,
it was my dirty job.
I looked down at his business card and noticed he was a pastor of a church in Gordo.
Ah, now his friendliness made sense to me.*
* - This reminded me of my first pastor, Mark Heijerman, the
man who led to me to Christ in 1992 when I was age 21. He always told me he downplayed
his position as pastor of a church, and he made efforts to conceal
the formal title of "Rev." before his name.
"If someone finds out that I am a pastor, my hope is they won't be surprised."
Charting A Route In Alabama
There was another major coincidence with Glenn and I, when I showed him my remaining route.
I was headed to
Tuscaloosa and if I felt good and strong,
I would continue to Centreville at the only motel in Bibb County.
This man grew up in Centreville and was well-acquainted with the area!
He warned me: Highway 82 is not a good highway for bicyclists.
Past Centreville, there is very little shoulder all the way to Montgomery
with a large volume of trailer trucks on weekdays. One time,
he considered riding Highway 82 all the way to the ocean - the very route I planned to take! - but he
opted against it because of the dangers.
He examined my map of Alabama and suggested an alternate route
that he considered to be safer with less traffic. He suggested I detour Highway 82 tomorrow
at Maplesville (past Centreville), then take Highway 22 east through
Clanton and near Alexander City. Then I could ride on Highway 280, a four-lane highway
all the way through Auburn, Phenix City and Columbus, GA
before reconnecting with Highway 82 in Dawson, GA. The detour
would be three days long, the same amount of days, with some extra mileage.
I did not heed Glenn's direction. Yes, a part of me took his words seriously,
but changing the route was confusing and could cause more problems.
I already had lodging planned out in Alabama
(Centreville, Montgomery, Eufaula) and
I had no guarantee the roads would be any better.
Highway 82 is indeed the most direct route to the ocean and
I just needed to press on and deal with whatever happens out there.
This was my thinking at time, and as these three days unfold, you shall see what came of my decision!
This connection with Glenn, a man selfless enough to
pull over and offer help cheered me up. The human contact meant a lot. Even just
leaning my head and body into the passenger side window of his truck was a nice change of pace.
Glenn and I prayed together.
We had quite a brotherly connection, like two old friends, talking about
bicycling, God and those Alabama roads. Our talk made me feel okay ...
a smile came back on my face ... everything was going to be alright.
At this point, I generally had a lot of peace about the day to day events
of riding, even if they were unpleasant, but there was
a major rise in my spirit that I could not deny.
Glenn left and I changed that tire alright. I was eager to reach Tuscaloosa.
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