Hinckley, MN
Above: There are two main problems with riding your bike through the drive-through at Taco Bell:
1) The sensors in the pavement don’t detect bicycles.
2) Everyone in the Taco Bell points and laughs at you.
Above: The Grand Casino wouldn’t let me camp out in their “RV Resort” (parking lot). Big mistake. I would have pumped at least 35 cents into their slots machines. I bet they won’t make that mistake again. Suckers.
Friday, 7/28 midnight
Location: Hinckley, MN
Right now definitely qualifies as one of the most unusual moments of my life. I’m sitting in an outdoor meeting area at almost 11pm, wearing nothing but my cargo shorts. Before I tell you why, I should tell you how I got myself into this situation…
I arrived in Hinckley, Minnesota at around 7pm. Hinckley is a small town, but it sits next to Interstate 35. There is a quaint downtown area, with really only one avenue of businesses. However, about a quarter mile away, there is a long strip of gas stations, fast food chains, and motels along the highway. I entered town by way of the old downtown, and I quickly located my two eating options: a small, busy café, and a pizza shop. Given that I’m drenched in sweat and smeared with bicycle grease, I didn’t feel comfortable squeezing my way into the café, especially in my spandex. So, I opted for the pizza joint.
Unfortunately, the place didn’t have air conditioning or an ice maker (two major strikes against it), but it had about a dozen fans blowing furiously. I ordered a small pizza and sat down at a table to await my food. A TV was anchored above the pool table, and since I was the only customer in the whole place, I turned up the volume. I managed to catch the beginning of a movie which looked pretty lame, but as TV often does, the movie had me hooked instantly. After about an hour and a half of drinking copious amounts of water and soda, and falling into a zombie-like state watching the boob tube, I finally realized that I needed to figure out where I was going to stay for the evening.
At that point, it was already beginning to get dark, but I wasn’t concerned, because almost every town that I’ve been to so far has an RV park or campground nearby. I spoke with the people making pizzas, and they told me of an RV park down the road. Moments later, I was on my way.
Well, the RV park in Hinckley, Minnesota is really just a fancy parking lot for the Objibwa Indian Tribe’s Grand Casino. Hundreds of massive motor homes and trailers were parked there. The woman at the registration desk briskly informed me that the RV park does not allow tent camping. Well, of course not. If you’re sleeping in a tent, you’re probably not there to gamble.
The situation soon became a bit more interesting when I learned that the next closest camping area was 19 miles away. Given that I only had about 20 minutes of daylight left, I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it there.
I was down to two options: 1) stay in a motel or 2) hope that there’s a city park that the police will let me sleep in. I called the local police, who informed me of a park in town where I could stay for the night. They gave me directions, and I departed again, this time heading back towards where I ate dinner. Dying of thirst already, I pedaled into the drive-through of a Taco Bell. I now know that even with a fully loaded touring bike, the sensors in a drive-through won’t notice you. I rolled up to the window and asked for a drink. The people behind the counter had such a laugh that they gave me the drink for free. On to the park.
Despite the fact that Hinckley is a small town, I could not find the park to save my life. After searching around for about 15 minutes, I gave up and decided to find a room in a motel. At this point, the sun was down, and dusk was fading into darkness.
I stopped into the Travelodge. Only smoking rooms left. I called the Days Inn. Only smoking rooms left. I even called the casino. No rooms at all left. The prospect of paying $90 to sleep in an ash tray didn’t appeal to me, even less so than sleeping on the side of the road.
Hmm, my options were running out. I called the police again to get better directions to the park. I guess the dispatcher was tired of trying to describe how to find the park, so eventually she just said, “OK, I’ll send an officer over to escort you to the park.” Nice! Within a minute, a squad car arrived with the license plate “Sheriff”. The officer told me to follow. The officer drove me back to where I had looked in the first place, except that he then turned down a dirt road and navigated to an industrial looking part of town, although I can’t really tell because it’s completely dark. The officer said, “Here it is,” and drove off.
Fantastic. I don’t know where I am, I can’t see a thing, and there’s a thunderstorm approaching.
After two months of sleeping in my tent, I’d be a pretty crummy camper if I couldn’t set up my tent in the dark. Within a few minutes, I had everything set up, and I jumped into the tent to fall asleep.
Except for one problem: it’s 85 degrees outside with no breeze, and inside my tent it’s hot enough to smelt steel.
So, it’s now nearing midnight, and I’m sitting outside, somewhere in Hinckley, Minnesota, wearing nothing but my cargo shorts. How can it possibly be this hot at midnight?! This is not shaping up to be a restful evening.
Addendum:
That last statement, unfortunately, was quite foretelling. Drenched in sweat, I finally lied down in my tent at about 1am. Because of the heat, I rolled up the flaps on my rain tarp in the hopes of allowing any breeze to pass through. That worked fine and well, until 3 hours later, when I was assaulted by a brutal downpour. One moment, it was stiffling hot and still. The next moment, I was being doused by a cold rain!
Tags: Travel
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