Yesterday it hit me, for the first time, that we had actually ridden to Wyoming from New York City. I still can't tell if it's been a long time or no time at all. Several times on this trip I've just felt like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, being swept from one coast to the other and not being able to experience the journey; just wanting to start again.But starting again isn't an option at this point. Sometimes this team feels like a house of cards; one blow from caving in. Tensions have been high, but ever since crossing the Missouri each day has been better than the last.For the first time, we went several days with no phone service. Not being able to get in touch with anybody was an experience that showed that we were really in the west, like being buried deep, six feet under when you scream and no-one hears a thing.But if there's anything this trip has taught me, it's that there's still a chance. All the people that we've talked to have a spark in them, and they just have to ignite that light and let it shine. When it happens, then they can own the night like the Fourth of July.Speaking of the Fourth of July, today was the Fourth of July. Independence Day in Cody starts with the Stampede Parade at 9:30 am, mostly cowboys and a few marching bands, though there were a few gems - namely a team of older men in turtle carts. They made the parade feel like it wasn't a waste of space. It was very original and couldn't be replaced by any other act. After the parade was a barbeque in the park, and then the Cody Stampede Rodeo at 5. After the rodeo came the fireworks show, accompanied by a lightning show. The rain was tough, but we have to remember what the future holds - after a hurricane comes a rainbow.Between the rodeo and the fireworks, we attempted to enter the original Cody from the 19th century, but were told that it was private property. Maybe we're the reason why all the doors are closed, and we just had to open one that could lead us to the perfect road. This door led us to a field a few blocks away from the stayover, where we watched the firework show.Regardless of the old Cody setbacks, this has probably been the biggest culture shock of my life. We've been going through the west for a while now, but I never really stopped to experience the culture. And just like the lightning bolts outside, my heart will blow and when it's time I'll know that we just have to ignite the light inside all of us and let it shine. Then we can own the night like the Fourth of July in Cody. Because we're all fireworks and we are showing the whole country what we're worth. I4K is even brighter than the moon.Boom boom boom.
One hour...
One hour remaining until I leave, and it's about time I wrote a blog post. Before leaving, I'd like to thank everyone who's been so supportive of me and the Illini 4000. A special shoutout to my parents, whose tales of bike trips inspired me to take this one and who have been unimaginably supportive all the way through this year.I got my bike a few weeks ago, and haven't gotten that much riding done on it. The largest hill I've seen so far has been in Hinsdale, so the Appalachians are going to be really fun. A name for my bike doesn't occur to me yet- I'm waiting for that moment when bike and I become linked and I can feel its pain. Then the name will come to me. Regardless of any spiritual connection between us, we've ridden the Lakefront Trail, the Salt Lake trail, a few paths that are nameless to me, and a twenty-mile journey through the west side of Chicago, which I'm convinced has the most broken glass per square mile in the U.S.Now I can check "write blog post" off of the to-do list, leaving only "leave". I've packed my bag and duct taped all holes in my sleeping bag. A part of me wants to draw this packing process out, and another part just wants to leave right now. Who knows, maybe the world really will end tomorrow and we won't be riding after all.I do find it kind of funny that the rapture is supposed to start as soon as we arrive in New York (6 pm, according to Harold Camping. Our train pulls in to Penn Station at 6:30). It's not entirely untrue; for a lot of our friends and relatives, we'll be dropping off the face of the Earth for two months (excluding this blog, but who says the raptured can't blog?) We might not be ruled by demons for five months, but this summer will be very different than the usual fare.Now there's a half an hour left, and I'm ready to go. Bring it on, America.