BUSTED

DAY:  8: Cheyenne, Wyoming to Kimball, Nebraska

ACTUAL ROAD DISTANCE:  65 miles

TOTAL DISTANCE:  N/A

I was on the road at 6:30 am and headed for the Wyoming and Nebraska border.  With a hefty sixty-five miles ahead, I wanted to break the run into two parts:  Cheyenne to the border (40 miles) and the border to Kimball, Nebraska (25 miles).  Fortunately, I wouldn't be climbing but actually descending throughout the day.  Part One was relatively easy to get through.  But Part Two--from the border to Kimball--would be a first in all of my long-distant adventures.  

Shortly before launching into Nebraska, I had texted Dixie a message stating that it was legal to ride a bike on the shoulders of interstate highways.  I had written. "Now it's legal!"  And so, I pedaled down I-80 east toward Kimball.  Maybe ten miles into the second part of my day's ride, I noticed the sign:  "Road Work Ahead" and "Fines doubled in work areas."  So, I entered this work zone horrified at what I saw.   The interstate had been halved from four to two lanes.  And the shoulder on the eastbound side offered no more than thirty inches of space.  As I pedaled on this dangerously narrow shoulder, my bike would sway whenever a semi-truck swooshed by.  I was now inches from truck grills and mirrors.  This would not do, but I seemed to be trapped between a shoulder and a hard place.  Semi after semi roared by, some barely missing making contact with me.   Fortunately, I happened to glance across the westbound lane and noticed that the shoulder on that side of the road was the normal twelve-foot shoulder.  So, when the lanes were free, I darted across the two lanes and ended up pedaling eastbound on a westbound shoulder! 

Two miles out of Kimball I got busted.  The blinking blue lights stopped right in front of my bike preventing me from going another foot.  "Is that one of those ebikes?  Where have you come from? How far do you go a day?  You can't ride a bike on the interstate."  He was friendly, curious, and firm. "Can I see your identification, please?"  Assured that I wasn't a recent got-away from the southern border, he called the county sheriff.  "I can't get your bike into my car, but the sheriff will bring his truck."  

So, two miles from Pizza Hut, I and my bike and Burley trailer got transported by a police truck to Kimball.  "I'm not going to arrest you," the first officer said.  I thought, "this guy has a sense of humor."  But he then said, "the county sheriff might, but I won't."  He wasn't kidding.  Fortunately, both cops were kind and the sheriff of Kimball County and I had a great conversation.  "I'm a priest you know, but I've always wanted to ride shotgun with a sheriff."  He replied, "I know a lot about Anglicans; my best friend was an Anglican priest."  "Oh really?" I responded.  "I'd like to talk to him."   "He's dead."  Oh, okay.  The county sheriff dropped me off in Kimball and then asked if I could take his picture beside my bike.  "I want to post this on our county law enforcement website."  

Great.  "Anglican priest caught pedaling this bike on the interstate."   I'm in Kimball at a dilapidated motel and not a jail cell, though the latter might be cleaner.  Prayers for our law enforcement officers.  Prayers for  those who put their lives on the line every day.  And today I was delighted to be a Nebraska law-enforcement officer assistant.