It should come as no surprise that there is a direct correlation between the songs that a person sings into their helmet and their mood.

In the weeks before I left on this trip, my motorcycling friends offered extensive advice on subjects ranging from safety to comfort. All appreciated and mostly complied, there was one suggestion that was made almost unanimously, that I rejected. It was to equipt myself with a bluetooth enabled helmet. This would not only allow me to use my cell phone, but also my ipod and a radio.

I knew almost the moment that I conceived this trip that one of the benefits would be the long periods of silence being on the scooter would require. While it was never a monastic impulse, after years of filling every non-scheduled moment with the Daily Show/Colbert Report, 24 hour news and NPR (yes, I secretly love you Ira Glass) it was clear that part of my personal journey needed to include some quiet time.

It has been remarkable. For now, I will spare you the personal revelations, but here are some general learning’s about singing on the road.

1.  Know more than one verse – No matter how much you love a song, repeating the same verse over and over is just, well, sad.
2.  All Motown music will result in head movement which other drivers will find unsettling – Just take my word for it.
3.  Show tunes, particularly early Sondheim or anything from Guys and Dolls, are good.
4.  If you find that you are lapsing into the Battle Hymn of the Republic, take a break. It is not a good sign.

Special note: If you have not heard it, I invite you to listen to Sarah Vowel tell the story of the Battle Hymn of the Republic (This American Life , Sarah is Act two, approximately 22 minutes into the episode). Priceless.

Today was mostly show tunes and Van Morrison. I was mid-Moondance, and pulling off the interstate when I noticed that I was being followed by the only other scooter rider that I have seen on this trip.  He was riding a Suzuki Burgman 650, which is over twice as powerful and heavy as mine and it was nice to meet a kindred spirit.

Meet Raymond Fowler.  A disabled veteran, Raymond lost his leg in service to our country.  We talked outside the Exxon station in Clarksville, Arkansas and, even through the road noise, I think you can hear his genuine concern and love for our country.   

Raymond Fowler

Are we still doing convoys because I didn’t get the memo…

Within minutes of merging onto the interstate this morning on what promised to be the best riding day of this trip, I was beset with, conservatively, twenty semi’s traveling in what can only be described as coordinated vehicular terrorism.

I recognize that at this point in my blog, I risk appearing obsessed about wind and wind related phenomena. But there is a particular combination of wind gusts that I feel compelled to share with you. It occurs when the turbulent wind that bounces of a truck that has just pulled back in front of you after passing, is followed one moment later by the first gust off the second truck that is now is passing on your left.  A truck gust two-step, if you will.

Convoys represent the opportunity to experience this horror serially for their duration. Upon seeing the endless line of trucks that appear in your rear view mirror, there is instant clarity.  Breathe or die.  

And then it is over.

As I continued my ride through Oklahoma, taking in the incredible foliage that is just beginning to hint at a color change, it was hard not to wax philosophic.  All of the recent convolutions on the campaign trail, from Ayers, Acorn to the ‘real’ America, start to feel just like the wind gusts from a convoy.  As we enter the final days of this election, my message from the heartland is, breathe.

Please listen to Kenny Fields and I think you will understand. 

Kenny was born in Illinois but spent the last thirty years in Texas.  Doing rodeos and ranch work, he made his way to Henrietta, Oklahoma four years ago. Here he went into partnership on the Tiger Mountain Ranch, a guest ranch where visitors get to live the cowboy or Indian experience.  Married with 3 children, Kenny is completely unaffected by this campaign turbulence. 

Kenny Fields

Hold on. It will pass.

If you had asked me at the outset of my journey to predict a community that I would embrace, I would not have guessed that it would be Shawnee, Oklahoma.  I did not see this coming.

Even before the food arrived at my first meal, the signs were there.

Now, I realize that it may be difficult to gauge the scale from the photo, but allow me to interpret.  Here in Shawnee, beverages start at 32 ounces and they bring unsolicited peanuts.  I love these people.

I found this community to be warm, engaging and kind. 

However last night, as I was looking to select a church to attend this morning, some red flags went up.  By one count, there were over 56 churches to choose from in a community of less than 30,000 people.  For my bay area secular’s, I offer the following reference point.  Palo Alto, California is a community of over 62,000 and has 33 churches.

A closer look was even more alarming to this west-coast-inclusive Presbyterian.  Thirty of the 54 churches were Baptist.  Now, the presence of the Oklahoma Baptist University is clearly an influence.  However, Shawnee is also the home of St. Gregory’s University, a Benedictine Catholic institution, and the result is only one Catholic church.

I feel the need to explain my reaction to the Baptist dominance here in Shawnee.  It is awkward to admit to.  It is revealing and it is relevant.  As much as this trip is about the political continuum and resulting dialog, for me it is also about the state of the church.

For many progressive Christians, we have felt that the conservative churches have co-opted our faith.  By interjecting a social agenda that does not reflect our beliefs, many have come to feel that the greatest messages of our faith have gotten lost in the misguided and single issue focus of the right. 

And so it was that I cautiously entered the University Baptist Church on N. Kickapoo Avenue in Shawnee.  To say that I was greeted warmly is an understatement.  Admittedly, I stood out.  I was the only woman with hair still damp from my shower (Shawnee woman are well coifed) wearing motorcycle boots. 

The service today was led by the youth and the theme was, ironically,  Unity:  One body, many parts.  A young parishioner named Raye Reeder used tangrams to demonstrate how many different shapes create a whole.  She went on, cleverly, to show how those same shapes can create many forms.  It was charming and impactful.

Stephen Whitmore, a high school senior, delivered the sermon.  Here in this Southern Baptist church, he called for the left and the right fractions of the church to come together.  He spoke eloquently of meekness and patience. 

Following the service, Pastor Bob Searl and congregant Mary Chancellor graciously agree to an interview.  They both speak beautifully to the special nature of the University Baptist Church. 

University Baptist

So this is what I found in Shawnee.  A congregation focused, not on politics or social agenda, but on service. 

I like it here.