Reaching Fargo

Sailing into Fargo, North Dakota yesterday at the mercy of a blessedly cool three-quarter tail wind, we realize that we are measuring time in terms of distance (only 30 miles 'til lunchtime) and, conversely, distance in terms of time (looks like another hour or so to Fargo). Too bad the relativity theory has already been expounded.  Anyway, this thought has given rise to another poem-in-the-making, but in the meantime reaching Fargo is cause for reflection on all the reactions we have had from people along the roads of Montana and North Dakota when we tell them we are riding across the continent. Added words in parentheses are mine. Enjoy!

• "You what?  You mean on pedal bikes (not motorcycles)?"
• "You guys gotta be crazy."
• "What are you doin' (a darn fool thing like) that for?"
• "Aren't you a little old to be doing something like this?"
• "You know, they don't like bikers on the (Blackfeet Indian) Reservation. You could get shot."
• "Sure, you can camp out there behind the (tribal police) station, use the showers and all in there too."
• "Why didn't you just drive in an RV (like normal people)?"
• 
  
  "Well, if it looks like the thunderstorm is coming this way you can stay at my place.  It's not much, but you'll be safe there."
• "You're not environmentalists, are you?" We don't want no tree huggers around here."
• 
  
  "If you see a funnel cloud coming just get as far away from your bikes as you can and jump into a ditch or crawl into a culvert.  Good luck!"
• "I really think you guys are incredible, I mean, most people just fly by through here on their way to the coast. We don't see them, and they don't see us (farmers)."
• Raising funds for children in Haiti?  That's a wonderful cause. They need to know that even people out here in North Dakota care about them."