Bicyclists bond over bloopers

Border Raiders cyclists swap tales of mix-ups and mishaps

Maryville, Mo. ? The Border Raiders entered Missouri on Wednesday, more than halfway through their 400-mile ride through four states. The next leg of their trip is from Maryville to Savannah, Mo., a distance of 69 miles.

Through the wheat fields of Kansas and Nebraska and over the rolling hills of Iowa and Missouri, the 193 cyclists are creating good memories and sharing stories.

Here are a few of these stories.

Mistaken identity

Fran Gale, Lawrence resident, met her twin on the Border Raiders tour this week.

“Several people told me they had mistaken someone else for me,” Gale said.

So Gale sought out the woman, Alyce Daws of St. Joseph, Mo., and the two agreed they had similar features. To keep people confused, Daws invited Gale to sleep near her and her husband.

“As long as your husband is OK with this,” Gale said, “because I don’t want him getting confused in the middle of the night.”

You say potato

Randy Breeden, Lawrence resident and one of the organizers for the Border Raiders tour, was working registration earlier this week. He recalled one woman he helped.

“I was showing this woman her packet of information, pointing out the maps, and I told her, ‘and this is your patch kit.'” Breeden said.

The woman’s face paled and her eyes grew bigger. She had not heard Breeden clearly.

“Casket!” she exclaimed.

Breeden realized her misinterpretation, and he jokingly told her that they wanted to be prepared for everything.

Amelia’s still lost

The Amelia Earhart Century bicycle ride was Sunday in Atchison, and some overlapping took place. When the Border Raiders left Atchison, Ann Murphy of Topeka, a cyclist with the Earhart group, fell in with them.

As the riders made their way north from Earhart’s hometown to White Cloud, Murphy pedaled, made friends and conversed with several Border Raiders participants. As they approached White Cloud, with the Missouri River in view on her right, Murphy asked a Raiders rider, “Have you been in the hospital?”

The confused Raiders cyclist looked at his bright orange wristband and replied, “Oh no. That’s to get us into the Border Raiders meals.”

“What’s a Border Raider?” asked an even more confused Murphy.

Like Earhart, Murphy was lost.

Thirty-seven miles north of Atchison she finally realized she was off-course and traveling with the wrong group of cyclists.

Jim Baze, Lawrence resident, an organizer of the Border Raiders tour and the founding president of the Lawrence Bicycle Club, loaded Murphy up in a truck and drove her back to Atchison.

Murphy, a masseuse, was grateful for the lift.

“She offered to give me a massage if I ever visit Topeka,” Baze said with a laugh.