The following is an account of what two Daily staff members,

Eric Rowley and Jill Sederstrom, experienced while traveling with

several groups of RAGBRAI participants with ties to Iowa State.

Eric is the Daily’s photography editor and is a senior in

journalism and mass communication from Rockford, Ill. Jill will be

one of the Daily’s news editors next fall and is a senior in

journalism and mass communication from Overland Park, Kan. As Eric

and Jill discovered, doing a story away from home is never as easy

as one may think.

DAY ONE:

The Plan: Leave Ames and drive to Glenwood, Iowa to meet up

with

a team of Iowa Staters before the RAGBRAI opening ceremonies at

8 p.m..

That was the plan, but as we all know, things do not always go

as

expected. About 50 miles outside of Council Bluffs, we decided

to

pull over the car and plug in a 300 watt power inverter, purchased

off

E-bay in a pre-opened package, to charge the camera batteries.

There was a loud pop and, suddenly the radio, clock and

cigarette

lighter went out. We had blown a fuse. We spent the next 15

minutes on the entrance ramp off the highway with the hood up,

trying to fix the fuse. Although there were several spare fuses,

none

fit. We drove the remainder of the time in silence.

Upon arrival in Glenwood, we stopped at the local store to try

to

replace the fuse. We got out of the car, locked the doors and

then

noticed the keys lying on the floor of the driver’s side. We

were able

to find a replacement fuse, but now we had an entirely

different

problem — we were locked out of the car in a small town in

Iowa.

There were no local locksmiths listed in the phonebook.

A kindly grocery store owner offered us a metal hanger, and

after

thirty minutes, Eric used his mad skills to break into the car with

the

hanger. It was probably because he has been breaking into cars

since the age of 12, but I didn’t ask questions.

High off our slight victory, we tried out the newly-purchased fuse.

We

both waited in anxious anticipation and turned on the car.

The red power light on the cigarette lighter never turned on.

We

would still be unable to charge the laptop, our cell phones or

the

camera battery. With cell phones still in analog roam, and not

wanting to pay Sprint’s $1.50 roaming charge to call our

contact, we

decided to go to dinner.

At 8 p.m., as the opening ceremonies were taking place

somewhere

in Glenwood, Eric and I sat at the Oasis restaurant, unable to get

a

hold of the team.

After sitting in a non-air conditioned restaurant where it took a

half

hour and a few friendly reminders to get a glass of water, we left

to

go search for the team.

As we drove off the main highway, we were directed down a one

way

street, which we opted to go down the wrong way, where a sea of

tents had been resurrected. Our aimless search for any ISU

students grew more and more frustrating. Finally, we decided to

make a sacrifice and pay the $1.50 roaming charge to check

Eric’s

cell phone messages. We had one from the team captain Alex,

with

instructions to their campsite. Near 10 p.m., our search was

over,

and we met up with the team we would be following for the next

few

days.

Exhausted, we fell asleep under the great country array of

twinkling

stars as a extremely inebriated individual tried to relieve

himself

between two of our tents.

DAY TWO:

Much to our displeasure, day two began as the sun was rising.

The

team rose early, packed and disappeared into the hazy morning.

Eric and I were left dazed and confused, sitting in the car. Armed

with our trusty gazetteer of the back roads of Iowa, we set off

to try to catch up with the team. Our efforts were only

semi-successful, as we managed to catch the team twice during

the

four or five stops they made. Somehow we managed to get on the

same road as the bikers, and while I nervously drove, Eric hung

out

the window and snapped photos of our team.

Our search continued back and forth from Shenandoah to Essex in

search for members of the ISU Triathalon Club. We heard rumors

of

two ISU teams enjoying frosty beverages back in Essex and drove

to

meet them. As we pulled into the Railroad Inn, we spotted a

large

red bus with a blonde lady painted on the side. Towering above

the

bus was a porch filled with sun burnt, tired and well-hydrated

Team

Blonde members. We boarded and began our journalistic duties.

We were bombarded with stickers and good quotes. The eagle eye

view helped us spot Team Killer Bees, another RAGBRAI team with

some ISU students. We left Essex with some great quotes and

feeling a little violated after some unique sticker placement. The

night ended with high humidity, high frustration and a high

chance of rain as our search for more ISU students proved

unsuccessful.

DAY THREE:

Jill:

Six a.m. again came early as the team we were with packed and

set

off on their bikes. Today, Eric and I split up. Eric dropped me off

in

the small town of Bedford, where I conversed with local

residents.

Everyone was friendly, and either didn’t notice I

hadn’t showered in

three days, or was too polite to mention anything. I needed to find

a

spot to write my story and ended up sitting on a picnic bench in

the

middle of a small park, with country music from local

performers

playing in the background. Once done with the story, I sort of

regretted my decision to give Eric the car to use.

Eric:

Speeding across the back roads of Iowa was a bit more daunting

than I thought it was going to be. I had to make up for lost

time,

because it took about two hours to get from Shenandoah to

Bedford.

After dropping Jill off on Main Street, I referred back to the

trusty

gazetteer. County Road J35 shot me straight across the

cornfields

and right into the backyard of Clarinda, a good stop for lunch

and

maybe a glimpse of the ISU Triathlon Team. The Phish CD blared;

the fresh county air hit my face, as I pushed Jill’s little

red Toyota 70

mph around a corner rated for 40 mph. After the cement ended, I

decided to kick it down a bit. Huge cement trucks and F150s

ripped

past the little compact car. The dust grew so bad, in fact, I had

to

stop and wait for it to settle. After 30 minutes of back road

driving, I

came out to Clarinda. I found some of the team members after an

hour of searching. It’s a lot harder than I thought it was

going to be,

looking for five biker riders among 10,000. I took a couple of

photos

and decided to head back to find Jill. The gravel road seemed

too

familiar.

Back in Bedford, I found Jill sitting outside of the City Hall

smiling.

She had finished the story earlier than she had thought. We

decided

to head to the Bedford Times-Press to transmit our stuff back

the

Iowa State Daily newsroom.

We spent the rest of the afternoon showering and enjoying a few

colds ones. We can only wonder what the next two days will

bring.