Day 2/Chapter 2 Panhandling in the Panhandle

Day 2 of our biking adventure across the Lone Star State

Friday, April 7th, 2006. What a difference a day makes! The good news about this brand new day was that the wind was mild and to our advantage out of the northwest. A cold front had arrived. It was 44 degrees. We needed to bike 67 miles today to make up for lost time. Our goal was the tiny town of Panhandle 20 miles east of Amarillo.
We were eager to get going and were refreshed by our night’s rest. We noticed that by-passers moods also seemed improved. We got that conservative, imperceptible “lifting of the index finger off the steering wheel” wave that older, farmer men offer. We got the enthusiastic waves from the school kids on the school buses. The occasional honk from a car or blast from an 18 wheeler cheered us on our way. Waves were a huge encouragement to us and I often judged the day’s success and difficulty by the tempo of the road traffic. Rick called it “taking the pulse of Texas” and this was one of the objectives of our trip. Was Texas still “The Friendly State?”
We made great time leaving Gruver and arrived in Morse quickly. We took the time to stop and read a historical marker about Gator Buffalo Camp. The town sat off the Farm to Market road and all we saw and smelled of Morse was a feed lot with its thousands of cattle and piles of cow manure. We encountered a couple of cow dogs who were unhappy with our mode of transportation. The wind was picking up significantly and we evaded these canine patrollers easily. We smelled rain as FM 136 merged with FM 207. Occasionally we had to turn west into the wind which rapidly brought back despairing thoughts of yesterday’s brutal ride.
We arrived in Stinnett in the middle of the morning. It was overcast and cold. The wind was in full force now with gusts in the 40’s and the wind chill was a factor. The smell of oak and pinion wood smoke permeated the air. The town was very quiet. Always on the lookout for an indoor plumbing opportunity we stopped at the Hutchison County Courthouse. I eagerly looked around for that someone special to meet. This was uppermost on my mind as I removed my gear in the very clean and welcoming restroom there in the courthouse. Sure enough, the Lord provided, and in walked in an attractive woman with a beautiful smile. She exuded kindness; you could see it in her Texas friendly smile. She looked at my wind blown appearance and all my gear and the conversation was on its way. Sharron Harris and I quickly established that we shared the Christian faith. She encircled me with her arms and stopped to pray for us asking God’s blessings, favor and protection on our trip. I had to smile and was uplifted because I knew God was having a good time observing all of this.
As I exited the courthouse, my feeble brain finally reminded me that this was a great photo opportunity. I needed a picture of my new best friend in Stinnett. We walked back up the stairs and found Sharron’s office. She was quietly working at her desk with that smile on her face. As we got her attention and asked for a picture, she excitedly introduced us to her coworkers. We had a great time as we showed them our map and discussed our trip. As they heard that our goal for the day was Panhandle, Sharron encouraged us to eat at the Buffalo Grass restaurant. She suddenly exclaimed, “Hold on a minute. I’ve got something for you.” I was expecting a business card or brochure but she discreetly handed me some money. “Here, I would like to treat you to supper tonight at the Buffalo Grass.” Not usually the recipient of a gift of money, I nevertheless accepted the cash. Robin Stroud, another woman we had just been introduced to, pulled out a $20 bill from her pocket and said, “I know this sounds strange but I think I’m supposed to give this to you.” Later when I unfolded the money Sharron handed me, I discovered 2 twenty dollar bills. So here we were, Rick and Andrea Duwe, penniless in the panhandle, suddenly with $60 in our pockets. We were obligated now to tell them just how much this gift of money meant to us. They loved the story of our meticulously planned trip yet the oversight of not bringing any cash. The story of the generosity of these women blessed many others as we retold it all across Texas. We felt rich and were very conscious of God’s provision through these women.
This warm interaction with these sweet and generous women greatly encouraged us on this blustery, cold day. As we left, we laughed and joked how we were going to make money on this trip. Rick commented as we got back on our trusty steeds, “God shows up everywhere.” We offered a prayer of thanksgiving. I was thankful for the money but was much more excited about the real treasure: the joy of meeting Sharron and her coworkers.
We struck out for Borger 11 miles away. We crossed over the Canadian River. We stopped to read more historical markers and to take pictures of the oil refineries that marred the rugged landscape. Thanks to the intense gusts of wind to our back, we barely broke a sweat as we climbed the moderately steep hill leading into Borger. We barged through Borger stopping on the southern edge of town in the windbreak of a building for our lunch of granola bars, fruit and nuts. I saw another indoor plumbing opportunity and met Kathi Stedman and Donna Murrow. They offered us cold, filtered water warning, “Don’t drink the tap water.” I was reminded of the scripture, “…I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you took me in….” We exchanged pleasantries and good will wishes as we continued on our way. A cup of cold water…. Life’s simple pleasures!
Biking out of Borger the winds were sustained at 40 mph with gusts in the 60’s. Yesterday the wind was our ferocious foe. Today the wind was our friend and I wasn’t complaining! I don’t know how many times I thanked God. As our ride continued throughout the state, the wind was a huge factor. In fact, the ride would have been easy if but for the daily challenge of the wind.
We were on the high rolling plains now and had a panoramic view. The traffic was light and the shoulders of the road generous. We felt very alone. We saw storms off to the east and wondered where we would take refuge in this no man’s land in the event of a tornado, wild fire, lightening or hail storm. To the south we saw clouds of dust and soot sweeping across the prairie. We donned our rain jackets as wind blown drops of rain stung us from behind as we pedaled for Panhandle. We were at the mercy of God and fellow travelers because there were no trees or shelter. We would be barreling along at 20 mph and occasionally have to brake because of the undercut of the west wind. I would laugh as I looked over at Rick to watch the tumbleweeds and cornhusks tumbling and husking past him.
A man zoomed past us in his pickup, abruptly pulled into the ditch, exited his vehicle and I wondered, “Okay, what did I do to make this guy mad?” Not to worry. It was Robert Hemps from Dumas just checking on us and offering a ride to Panhandle 23 miles away. Yes, friendliness was alive and well.
We had much solitary time on our bike ride to think of family, friends and acquaintances. Verbal communication proved very difficult and limited because of the wind. By day’s end neither of us had much energy nor desire to talk.
Thoughts blew in and out of my brain like the gusts of wind. I thought of Christopher Columbus, Lewis and Clark and other classic stories of survival. The ditches were clear of litter having been blown to oblivion.
We arrived in Panhandle at 2:30. We saw Panhandle Elementary School and impulsively pulled in. Entering the administration building in full regalia we asked, “Was there a teacher who might be interested in our story?” Everyone said in unison, “Terri Lackey!” Phone calls were made obtaining permission and off we trekked to Terri’s classroom for the final 20 minutes of her gifted and talented class of kindergartners.
These kids were an instant audience. They took us apart and asked appropriate question after question. A sweet boy innocently asked, “But ma’am, don’t you know this is tornado alley?” We gave them our extra Texas map so they could follow us on the rest of our journey. We took a picture of us with the kids which ended up being one of our favorites on the trip. We said our goodbyes and promised to keep in touch. I sent them postcards along the way and called and emailed Terri with further stories of our journey.
We biked on brick streets through this well kept little town and pulled into the Texan Motel, a quaint Bed and Breakfast. Betty Rhynhart, the energetic proprietress greeted us in small town friendly fashion dismissing our inability to pay her (no charge cards accepted) saying, “Just mail me a check when you get home.” Before we cleaned up we braved the wind again to the nationally acclaimed Square House Museum where we met the kind and grandmotherly Billie Poteet, administrative assistant. Satisfied with seeing some of the town, we headed back to the Texan Motel. My objective was a long soak in the huge claw foot tub.
Rejuvenated we walked next door to the Buffalo Grass restaurant and dined like royalty thanks to my new best friend back in Stinnett. We chatted with our hostess Brenda Robinson. Brenda’s mom played “Under the Double Eagle” and some Scott Joplin on the piano for our benefit.
Returning to our wonderful, warm, quiet and still room we retired early to bed. I rested my head on my pillow with another happy smile on my face as I recounted the day’s stories of provision and protection. That’s when the first train of the night came through blasting and rattling our hotel room every few minutes all night long. I finally called a truce at 2 a.m., got up and dragged a blanket to the bathroom in which there was a small table. I wrote letters, postcards and journal entries for the next three hours. No rest for the weary.