From miles around by wagon and horseback to Mount Gilead Church they came on Sunday mornings in the 1850s and 60s. Now in 2006 from miles around we come by car and pickup and bicycle on Saturday mornings. Now a State Historic Site, the church and nearby school serve as our gathering site for the dozen or so times each year that we pedal to Plattsburg for breakfast at JJs.
From Blue Springs, Independence, Raytown, Gladstone, Kearney, Liberty, Kansas City, Roeland Park, Leawood and occasionally other far-flung satellite cities in the Kansas City Metro, we converge on Mt. Gilead, eager for our 7:30 AM start. Only once every four or five weeks do we begin our rides at Mt. Gilead. Only for JJs is Mt. Gilead our starting point. When we ride to Fubbler’s Cove in Orrick, Mill Inn in Excelsior Springs, Sarah’s Table in Kearney or Catrick’s in Lawson, we begin our ride at Biscari Brothers Bicycles in Liberty.
Because we begin most of our rides in Liberty and because more of us live in Liberty than in any other one place, we have come to call ourselves the Greater Liberty Riders and to think of the places we ride as part of Greater Liberty. More than 140 riders have ridden with us on Saturday mornings since our first ride in 2003. A dozen or more usually ride with us every Saturday.
By chance this morning when I pick up one of the logbooks I always carry on my bike, it’s open to a ride to JJs back on January 14, 2006. Today is June 10. We have been several times to JJs in the intervening months. But I suddenly think of Dorothy McClain, a dear friend who died a year or so back. Dorothy used to tell me, “Nothing is ever just coincidence.” At first I argued with her. Then I started trying to understand everything that happens to me as anything but coincidence. So what do I make of the fact that I picked up one of the several logbooks I keep that just happened to be open to a trip to JJs in the month of January? And here we are in June, ready for another ride to JJs. All those Js! Just coincidence. Dorothy would say no.
Scott and Waynell Gregory live in Roeland Park and ride a tandem. Often! And in distant places. They have ridden with us before. But not to JJs. So in our cars we meet at Biscari Brothers this morning at 7. And I lead them to the church. Rodger’s car is already here. But he’s gone. Rodger loves our rides. He often drives from Independence and leaves early so he can be home for family affairs. Since I always ride last, I expect to meet him coming back as I near Plattsburg.
I grab my bike phone and put in a quick call to JJs to tell them 15 bike riders will be there in about an hour. I won’t! But most will. These 15 hilly miles will take me nearly 30 minutes more. Everybody will have ordered by the time I arrive. I ride a loaded bike. The biggest rear panniers I could find, half-fenders front and rear, a rack with a bag on top. I carry tools and tubes and food and clothes and notebooks and pens and business cards and glasses and assorted coins and other things as seasons dictate. So anyone seeing me ride would understand why I’m slow.
Riding this way became a habit when I was teaching and rode every day to campus, carrying books and papers and things needed in my office. I ride this way still because no compelling reason to do otherwise has ever presented itself. My natural slowness is somewhat disguised by a bike that resembles a freight wagon. Absent all the add-ons, my lack of speed stands exposed as my natural state.
Three miles this side of Plattsburg I spot Rodger riding toward me. “Hey,” we yell as we pass. Then two more riders come toward me. A big truck lumbers past just as we pass. I can’t make out who they are. One rider peels off and rides with me back to JJs. Two empty chairs remain at the table for 15. We take them.
I pass the logbook. “Everybody sign in!” Tom Raines, Nick Baumgartner, Michael Calabria, Ann Dahl, Sharon and Steve Hanson, Elaine Ethier, Cindy and Brian Harvey, Scott and Waynell Gregory, Greg Snodgrass, Tim Griffin, David Eaton, Ed Chasteen. “Richard Bowman was here. He left already,” someone says. “Rodger had to get back for a grandson’s first birthday party.”
JJ’s is one of our sponsors for our yearly Greater Liberty Ride for MS, held on the Saturday before Memorial Day weekend. I have brought a Greater Liberty T-shirt for Jennifer and Julie, the sisters who own and operate JJs.
“Attention everybody! I have an announcement. Next Saturday we ride to Kearney. And we go to the VFW Hall for breakfast. Their cafeteria style breakfast will get us out fast. We can be back at Biscari’s for the 11 AM presentation to the MS Society of the big check from our Greater Liberty Ride.
“And on to another subject. The logbook I brought this morning shows that we rode here on January 14 this year. Some of the same folks came: Kevin White, David Eaton, Steve Hanson, Brian and Cindy Harvey, Petra Toye, Ed Chasteen, Rick and Nan Lueckert, Rachel Palos.”
All you can eat pancakes for $1.99 every Saturday at JJ’s. I had an egg, sunny side up, and a glass of iced tea with mine. I’m standing at the counter to pay my $4.13 bill when Jennifer hands me a T-shirt commemorating their Main Street celebration just held. We had a little fiasco yesterday,” she says. “Another group of bikers came in. While they were eating we saw one of them unscrew knobs off those little drawers and put them in his shirt. He walked out with them. But he paid by credit card. We know who he is.”
“Wow! I’m sorry a bicycle rider would do that. He’ll give us all a bad name.” I say. “We know you guys aren’t like that,” Jennifer says.
“Everybody go off and leave you?” The question comes from a man just leaving the restaurant and getting in his curbside car. “Oh, that’s ok. I’m always last.” I say. Mine is the only bike still around. I take another few minutes to put away my stuff and slather myself in sun screen. Then I’m off. I’m surprised to see another car still at the church when I roll in. I haven’t seen another rider since leaving JJ’s.
It’s Michael. “How long you been here? An hour?” I ask. “Not long,” he says. “I was talking to Scott and Waynell. They just left.” “Thanks for waiting on me.” I say.
HateBusters
Box 442
Liberty, MO 64069
Phone: 816-803-8371
e-mail: hatebuster@aol.com
No Boundaries On Our Soul!
