Day 49 (Addendum) - Fallon, The Friendliest Town on the Loneliest Road in America

I know Eureka proclaimed itself to be the friendliest on Route 50. But eat it, Eureka! It's Fallon that's my BFF of the trip:

Okay, so i've already mentioned the awesome Lindsy, front desk at the Holiday Inn Express in Fallon, NV, who permitted me to use the computer in the "business center" (along with a Harley rider playing some sort of interactive game between the computer and his cell phone. Don't ask me.) I should also mention the lovely waitress at Heidi's Family Restaurant (though fuck if i remember her name now) who was beyond welcoming, enthusiastic and told me what sucked on the menu and what was the most edible.

And in the previous entry i've properly worshipped Dan, the Fallon Lodge manager who 1) gave me a 10% cyclist discount on a cheap room rate, 2) showed me the room to make sure it was ok with me (he'd been having to clean the rooms himself plus manage the place) - the only time that happened at the trip at that point (it happened since, in San Luis Obispo), 3) seemed to really want me to stay another night when i was debating to switch to the Holiday Inn Express so i could have unfettered legal access to their computer, 4) let me do my laundry (not a service for all guests), 5) allowed me to write my blog on his laptop in the sitting room he sleeps in behind the office for FIVE hours (the computer was so boiling hot that the inside of my wrists were slightly burned after all that time - damn, those handlebar confessions are heated!), and 6) gave me 3 hard-boiled eggs so i could have some protein to add to the breakfast i had bought from Safeway for my ride on the upcoming Day 50.

After i almost literally burned-out on writing, i ambled out into the 100-plus degree heat in search of a barber shop or salon, Nevada style. i realized that today being Monday June 29, it was my last rest day until i saw Donny and my final opportunity to get a haircut. I've already mentioned that my shaved head was in full-throttle Mon-Chi-Chi mode, and i wanted to be freshly shorn for the Love Reunion one week ahead. During one of my 2 trips to Safeway, i had seen a mini-strip mall with Creative Cuts. It was a Monday, and i had the dim memory that such places are closed on Mondays. Fingers crossed, i braved the heat and walked the half-mile or so to Creative Cuts. Debbie, the Owner/Operator (according to her business card which i have kept - you never know), was in the middle of styling the comb-over of a middle-aged gent. She could see me in 15 minutes. Score! I went to the convenience store next door and celebrated with a tiny veggie snack tray consisting of a few veiny baby carrots, stringy peapods, a cube of cheese and a micro-vat of gummy ranch dressing. I played slots poker with the 96 cents change i had in my pocket. That would have been a great story: Five-Figure Jackpot for Cyclist Eating Veggies at Fallon Convenience Store. But alas, not meant to be.

Debbie was finished with Mr. Combover when i returned. I asked for a basic buzz cut and referred her to the easily-nicked mole-growth on the back of my neck that i always point out as a hazard for those cutting my hair for the first time (after an incident about 15 years ago when someone sliced it off with a straight razor. Bloody mess it was.) Immediately she pegged me for a non-local and i told her my story. She asked what i learned so far about America, and i gave her a decent version: the one where i'm a lone lefty working on my own issues of tolerance. Debbie confessed (after saying she shouldn't talk politics - now is that an industry-wide practice, or a personal etiquette thang? Must ask Brendan) that although she was a Republican, she really wanted Obama's health care plan to pass. Her story, or rather her husband's, manifests the paragon dire need for "Dear President Obama" letter. Debbie's husband (who i'm assuming is pre-retirement age, she's probably 45 or so) hasn't been able to work in 4 years. He had bone cancer, and the treatment left the bones in his leg so damaged that when he subsequently broke it, his leg would not heal. There is some treatment (don't know what, i'm no doctor) that would help but the insurance company won't pay for it. One clinic thought they were being helpful by offering to accept a check for the procedure: $75,000. I told her she should've just written it, had the procedure, and dealt with that whole fraud issue later. It sucks bad enough that her husband is ill but the fact that it's compounded by his not being able to work to pay for his medical costs is truly mind-blowing. How many thousands and thousands of people are in a similar position?

When the buzzing was done, Debbie offered to wash away the tiny cuttings from my head, and she did so with what felt like such care and warmth. Someone was touching my head, keeping soap out of my eyes, lightly brushing errant hairs from my neck and ears. Again, it's odd being alone for so many days, and how comforting - motherly almost - a stranger's touch can be. Debbie's story about her husband and their plight within the health care system both moved me and made me feel impotent. (I mean, what can you say when you're mouth is hanging open besides "That's awful" and "I hope his health care plan passes too." Or someone's plan that doesn't leave millions of people permanently injured, destitute or both.) I got out my wallet to pay Debbie, and she refused. I was flabbergasted, as i have been 99% of the time people have done nice stuff for me for seemingly no reason at all - or for reasons of their own that i couldn't guess. I begged her to let me pay her - but she said she wanted to contribute to my trip. After some pressure, she caved and let me leave a tip. But that was that. PLEASE, if any of you are ever in Fallon, Nevada, go to Creative Cuts and ask for Debbie. Please.

The charm of Fallon continued into the night when Ben, the fellow cyclist i met in Escalante, Utah and then again the next day in Bryce Canyon when i was with Nina, showed up at my hotel room door. Ben had also sniffed out the bargain that was Fallon Lodge and Dan had told him that i was also staying there. We chatted for about an hour, catching each other up on our respective trips, like old friends who hadn't seen each other, rather than the virtual strangers we really are.