 Nick and Sarah left the Grand Cherokee safely in Omaha and unloaded their bikes. It was only a short ride across the river to Council Bluffs, Iowa, for the beginning of RAGBRAI (Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa). Sarah made sure that she had registered both her and Nick early, since only 8,500 people were allowed to participate for the full week. They were both fairly athletic, and had spent some extra time training for the event, which would have them biking an average of 68 miles a day. She was oddly excited to see Iowa, after doing some research on it. Prior to that, all she knew about Iowa is the people there could make a vowel last for-e-ver. The first day, the winds were with them, for the most part, but they were feeling the pain of the long-distance ride. After starting at about 9:00am, they were slowing down and feeling woozy by 11. At one point, Nick yelled over to Sarah: “I’ll marry you if we survive this”. Sarah smiled and told him: “I hear Iowa City has great engagement rings”. When they arrived at the first destination, there were people already setting up camp, and they joined in. Beers were being handed around, and everyone toasted and laughed and ate, repeating every time a new group of cyclists showed up. Sarah was viciously hungover in the morning. She wanted to get going, but Nick wanted to be certain she was finished throwing up, first. He was always thoughtful like that. After drinking the horrible coffee that a person can make over a campfire, and wishing so much for the cafes in New York, they set off. On the 4th night, the night before they arrived in Iowa City, Iowa, they were lying in sleeping bags, looking at the sky. “Have you ever seen so many stars?” Nick said. “We’re from New York, Nicky. Every night, I would make a wish on the first airplane I saw taking off from Kennedy”, Sarah responded. “Is this heaven?” Nick inquired in a wistful voice. Quoting one of their favorite movies, “Field of Dreams”, which was filmed in Iowa, she said “No, it’s Iowa”. “I could have sworn it was heaven”, he continued. “G’night, Shoeless Joe”, Sarah told him before she fell asleep. After about 3 ½ hours of biking, stopping every now and again to take photos and coo over the wonders of nature, they arrived in Iowa City, showered at their campground, and set off to nourish their inner sports fans. Iowa City, as it happened, was home to The University of Iowa Hawkeyes, who had some of the most outrageous, crazy fans in the country. For a while, there was such flooding around the University of Iowa that the entire 52242 zip code was almost unreachable. Sarah decided that she would show her support by purchasing a gigantic Iowa Hawkeyes Foam Rubber Finger. Nick assumed she would—she had about 30 of them from various sports teams at home. Why she didn’t collect stamps or something he didn’t know, but it was somehow endearing. That night, G. Love was playing at a club downtown. They called a taxi from the campground. Sarah climbed in the taxi and put on her best imitation of the Principal’s secretary in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”. She read in that accent, to Nick’s horror—but not surprise—“We’d like to go, oh Jeez, to the Picador at 330 East Washington, Iowa City, 52240. It’s a night club, dontcha know”. She maintained that accent for the rest of the night, despite Nick’s offer to buy her the biggest diamond engagement ring in Iowa City, IA if she would stop. She continued for the remainder of RAGBAI, and all the way back on the shuttle to Omaha. As they loaded their bicycles back onto the Jeep, Sarah suddenly stopped the accent and said: “I love you, Nicky. I really do”. He smiled, kissed her on the nose, and said: “I love you, too. Let’s go to South Dakota”.
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