June 5 (A Catastrophe is Created)

 

This is a post I would honestly have rather skipped as it doesn't make me look very good but, given my dad's ultimatum of "You write it or I will," I am left with little choice in the matter. Also, there is eight miles in the map above I did not record, which is why it doesn't quite match up to the previous map.

 

So for breakfast the entire group at The Bike Inn was going to head back to the café where we had eaten the previous night; we had all hit it off pretty well yesterday and were looking forward to the company before we parted ways. I wasn't sure which group I would tag along with, the trio (brother-sister-guy) were headed a long ways off on the TransAm, while Nate and his father were headed on a large deviation from the route that would take them through lower Idaho, and ultimately cut a week off their trip. Well, this is what was going through my mind when...

 

I couldn't find my wallet. I turned over my bags, searched the rooms, searched the lawns. Empty. Did it again. Still nothing. And again. No wallet. The owner came by to clean up and launder our blankets and she helped look. Still. Nothing. I texted Nate at the café to see if I left it there the night before. No. Wallet.

 

At this point I'm starting to not think straight with worry and stress. I know there is a way out of this, I just don't know what it is yet. The trivial answer of stay here until you get things sorted out would slow me down too much, and would risk the completion of the trip. I'm also contemplating that one of the other cyclists might have nicked it - nothing else makes sense - even though there is a voice in my head screaming "IT'S YOU IDIOT! ITS ALWAYS YOUR FAULT CRAP LIKE THIS HAPPENS."  So I sit down and call Mom; one of her credit cards is in my wallet, she needs to know of its disappearance.

Bill:    So, Mom, how's your day?

Ann:   Really busy and frustrating.  Three people are waiting for something from me.

Bill:    How about I make it worse?

 

She is ... understandably frustrated. (Understatement) If the wallet was stolen, it was my fault; I left my bag open and unsupervised in the other room. So she tells me to head to the nearest police station and submit a theft report. (Only because a coworker overheard the conversation and had the presence of mind to know what to do.  I was as flummoxed as Bill.)  The nearest police station being ... 8 miles away, in Prairie City. Meanwhile she is going to take off work to help me get through this.

 

So while riding I get an hour of thinking about how badly I've botched things up. Things lost in my wallet: my ATM card, my parents' credit card, $60, my driver's license, my health insurance card, a $10 Amazon gift card, oh and the wallet was given to me as a present from my parent's trip to Italy. And now my mom's taking (valuable) leave from work. Great.

 

So I head to the police station and make the stolen item report...

 

So, I head home from work to look for Bill's passport and social security card hoping that, armed with this other ID, I can get a replacement ATM card and license for him.  ATM card was surprisingly (scarily?) easy.  The MVA office, on the other hand, has about 50 cranky looking people in line; I march ahead of them all to ask if it's even worth waiting in line.  No dice, the lady tells me.  You have to have your photo taken in person to have a license printed.  She gives me an 800 number to call.

 

The nice bureaucrat at the 800 number tells me the process for getting a replacement license out of state:

1. The MVA snail mails an application to an out of state address.
2. You fill out the form and snail mail it back.
3. The MVA snail mails you the replacement license.

I try to explain to the nice lady that my son doesn't HAVE an out of state address.  He is trying to make it back to the east coast on a deadline and is in a different place every night.  She repeats that they send the application to the out of state address.  We go around and around till I ask if I can speak to her supervisor.  Instead, she connects me to the Absent from State Unit.  And I repeat the story to another nice bureaucrat.

Turns out you can fax a request (no application required!) with key information to the MVA.  If you give them a FedEx number and a delivery address, they will express you a temporary license that is good for 45 days ... AND you can get a second 45 day temporary license, as long as you send the request before the first one expires.  It only took about half an hour to get this all worked out!

So, next I have to find a FedEx drop-off that is willing to receive and hold the package for Bill ... set up a FedEx account ... draft the request to the MVA and email it to Bill so he can sign and fax it.  In the meantime, his dad's job is to cancel the credit card and figure out how to send cash to someone who has no ID.  (Turns out Western Union allows you to wire up to $300 to someone who has no ID.  Who knew?!?  The sender just has to establish a secret question/answer.  The receiver has to tell the store on their end the EXACT word or phrase ... Sort of like having a low-tech decoder ring.) 

 

My phone rings literally the moment I email Bill the document to fax to the MVA.

 

Bill:    Don't hate me.

...Meanwhile my parents have cancelled their credit card, ordered me another ATM card, and are in the process of working out a way to wire me money so the trip can continue and get me another usable ID. It has been hours of frantic work, mostly on their end, being that I can't do much to help from Oregon ... when ... I found my wallet.

Now you might wonder, if the wallet was lost in Mt. Vernon (8 miles away, where I spent the night) how did I find it in Prairie City?  Well, although I had - in the mannerism of anyone looking for something small they recently lost - patted myself down too many times to count while looking for this damn wallet, I had not realized that there was a ... wait for it ... middle pocket in the back of my cycling jersey. That's right everyone, all this time the wallet was literally on my person. It truly is a testament to the restraint of my parents that they haven't killed me for stuff like this. (This story is guaranteed to be part of Scharpf family lore for years to come.  The kid will NEVER live this down!)

Anyway, after getting some money wired to me I which I hear was an ordeal in and of itself (Absolutely!  Don't EVER try to use the Western Union website.  Just go to the store with a wad of cash.) ... I headed out after Nate and his dad. Of course, the day was mostly gone, so I set my goal on the nearby peak. I rode through part of the night, getting there well after dark, and camped at the peak under the stars.

 

 

 

We went to Ruby Tuesday and had a nice dinner and a big glass of wine.