July 27, 2005
North Dakota

“You’re an idiot.”  So went the response every time it was mentioned our bicycle bunch was planning a ride across North Dakota.  And I wasn’t unique.  Each and every member of our geezer cycling society experienced the same response, “You’re an idiot.” 

All bicycle rides seem to require an acronym.  Iowa, of course, is RAGBRAI, the Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa.  Jack the driver named our ride RANDI, Ride Across North Dakota, Idiot.  The RANDI ride was born last year.  In the middle of crossing Iowa someone asked, “Couldn’t we ride a state different from the Corn Capitol?”  Big Gear Bob, a native of the “Great White North” offered, “North Dakota’s different”.  So last week we pedaled East from the North Dakota/ Montana state line. 

A trip of a thousand miles may begin with a first step but with our group the RANDI ride of 430 miles started with a visit to a bar.  A week ago Saturday, after an all night drive in Big Gear Bob’s motor home, the Bean Counter, the Doc, the Judge, Big Gear Bob, yours truly and Jack the driver (in the spirit of the Tour de Lance we called Jack our domestique) started our ride at the State Line Casino bar where Montana runs into North Dakota. 

While all of you in the Grand Valley were sweltering, we “idiots” pedaled from Montana to Minnesota.  Not only was North Dakota cool, it was awesome.  Double the annual rainfall the past couple of months turned the soaring bluffs along the Missouri River east of Williston into the Emerald Isle.  Riding back roads as smooth as a baby’s butt we pedaled past azure blue fields of flax, bright yellow acres of canola and golden fields bursting with wheat.  With minimal traffic, it was a bike rider’s dream come true. 

Things learned on the RANDI ride. 

The wind only blows in North Dakota on the days of the week ending in Y.  On Sunday and Monday it’s a tailwind, but all other days of the week feature a head wind out of the East.  Folks in North Dakota say this is because Montana sucks but this theory doesn’t seem to based on scientific fact. 

Never order walleye in a pancake house.

Melanie, the bartender at the M&R Sports bar in Tuttle, North Dakota has elevated the mixing of a Bloody Mary into an art form.  First she combined olive and pickle juice and then added pickled okra plus pickled peppers to the vodka and Clamato juice and after a touch of “secret” sauce topped off her alcoholic artistry with a dill pickle swizzle stick.  Of course one expects nothing but the ultimate in Bloody Mary’s as the M & R bar charged an exorbitant two bucks for their glass of mid-morning magic.  Thinking back it’s possible our group received a better price since we certainly qualified for a volume discount.  Or maybe it was the senior citizen rate. 

Based on numbers, the state bird of North Dakota must be the mosquito. 

Ah but the people of the Bison State. They may talk funny with their long O’s, end most sentences with “ya know” and sprinkle their conversation with an occasional “ufta” as in, “When are the Vikings going to win a Super Bowl?” “Ufta”. The fact remains you’ll never meet a friendlier, more courteous bunch of folks than those who live just south of Canada.  True indeed we may be idiots, but last week was one great adventure in North Dakota, ya know.