Open Writing

Time was closing in on me; my return flight was only days away. The time had come to think about packing my bike ready for the journey home. A single ticket on the Greyhound bus to Chicago was purchased and my bike boxed ready for the journey. After 4000 Km of riding the trip was nearing its end.

The first leg of the journey to Denver saw me on a crowded bus. After arriving I learned that the next bus to Chicago did not leave until the next morning. After a torturous tramp in downtown Denver I eventually managed to book into a seedy hostel around midnight. Presenting myself at the bus station early next morning I realised there was going to be more
passengers than could be carried on one bus. Eventually this collection of holiday travellers; students; pensioners and single parent families was split into two groups; those going all the way to Chicago and those disembarking at intermediate towns and cities. We were told that our bus would travel virtually non-stop until it reached its destination.

For several hours the bus cruised along the freeway. Around 8 pm it pulled into Omaha, reputed to be the city located in the absolute geographical centre of the USA. The driver got all his passengers to disembark, which I thought was rather odd given the composition of his passenger list. I was soon to discover dastardly deeds. No replacement driver was available until the next morning. Together with a fellow passenger, an American, we complained to the bus station manager but to no avail. He would not let the passengers board the bus until the new driver arrived some ten hours later. The waiting facilities were inadequate. Like most bus stations around the world it was not situated in the best part of town. I sent off a highly
critical letter of complaint to Greyhound Head Office soon after my return to the UK.

Eventually arriving in Chicago I took a taxi to Harvey's house and promptly fell asleep on his sofa. He later drove me to Graham's house. I was welcomed with open arms by Ellen, his mother and Clark his younger brother. His father, a history lecturer at a local college, was out of town on academic business. After an enjoyable meal with them I made my way to Graham's bedroom where I was soon dead to the world.

The next day I made my second trip to downtown Chicago. As it was a Saturday, the main street was closed to traffic and turned over to a range of activities; live bands; stalls of all descriptions; art exhibitions and even a mini-farm for a range of animals. The journey to the centre was made on the 100 years old overhead railway system. It is possible to run, cycle or rollerblade for long distances along the side of Lake Michigan. The Sears Building situated in the centre of the city is one of the highest in the world. No longer in use as the headquarters of the Sears empire the 420 metres high building now provides a unique experience for visitors to look out over this 'windy city'.

A visit to the cinema with Ellen to see 'The Horse Whisperer' on my last evening rounded off a magical ten weeks of travel across many different regions of this powerful nation, rich in cultural and racial diversity and possessing a wide range of physical characteristics. A combination of cycling and rail travel had given me an appreciation of what made it tick.