“When you are done, you are all set to go. Your check is already taken care of,” the waitress told me with a warm smile.
“By who?” I asked, surprised and touched.
“By Ralf, a local farmer who is a regular here at Paula’s Cafe. He already left, but he wanted to wish you good luck on your journey.”
In that moment I felt deeply moved. I had come to see the beautiful landscapes of this country, but what truly captured my heart was the love and hospitality of kind Americans like Ralf. Another employee gave me a $50 bill, and a couple of other farmers gave $50. I walked in for a quick bite and to fill my water bottle, and left with my tummy and heart full.
The only bike mechanic with the parts I needed was 70 miles away, and Missouri’s steep rolling hills and headwinds slowed me terribly. I reached an intersection where the sign said “MoDOT maintenance ends,” and that was the end of the ride for the day. The road ahead was dirt and gravel, and with a broken crank the only way through would have been pushing the bike for miles.
That’s when Angie showed up like a true road angel. Maggie had reached out to her for help, and Angie drove 60 miles to take me to that mechanic, in Shawnee, Kansas, before he left town for the weekend. Mark at Precision Tandems had all the parts and worked on the bike until 10:30 p.m. He was impressed with the makeshift repairs I had done to keep the bike moving.
By the time the repairs were done, it was 10:45 p.m. The only place open that late was Wendy’s. The door was shut, but they were taking drive-thru orders. I knocked on the window and asked the manager if I could order, since I was on a bicycle. He agreed.
I was standing at the drive-thru, looking at the menu, when a car pulled up. While the gentleman waited for the speaker, he asked what I was up to. I told him about my journey. He was impressed and asked what I was thinking of eating. I told him a Number 9, the ghost pepper ranch sandwich.
When the Wendy’s rep was ready, my road angel ordered his food and a Number 9. He looked at me and said he would love to get me my dinner.
We introduced ourselves while waiting for the food. His name was Jared. He had heard a lot about sex trafficking and believed it was an important cause to fight for, and he promised his support. He handed me my sandwich and water, posed for a selfie, and said goodbye.
I rode to a motel and escaped a torrential thunderstorm. Despite the day’s challenges, the kindness of strangers like Ralf, Susan, Angie, Mark and Jared turned it into a day of hope and inspiration.