We left Summersville early around 630, trying to get a head start on the day because we had a mid-morning breakfast planned in Houston (25 miles away) with a woman named Kathy, the wife of the best friend of one of my favorite physical therapy patients in Portland. We don't know Kathy, but we were excited to meet and spend a little time with her. Unfortunately her husband Joe was not available to meet at that time so we would meet Kathy alone (they had offered for us to stay with them in their home but our trip did not take us through Houston at a time when we were needing to stop and sleep, only to refuel before continuing on). Before heading from Summersville to Houston, we stopped for more horrible gas station coffee (at least it's hot on these cool 50-ish and cloudy mornings). The ride to Houston was actually pretty glorious in comparison to what we'd been through the past couple of Ozark days: hills less steep and less frequent, and more rolling and open. We passed along the way a threesome of cycle tourists, one on a regular bike leading the way and two on big tricycles following about a half mile behind. The gal in the lead stopped and chatted with us and told us the story of the two folks behind her, a husband and wife, the husband who had a pre-existing head injury from fighting in Iraq and had decided to ride the Trans Am bike route LAST year from West to East and had been hit by a semi-truck. Apparently his tricycle got sucked under the semi as it passed him outside of Eads, Colorado and thankfully he was thrown free and suffered only a shattered helmet, forearm, and bike afterward but lived. He got his arm surgically repaired, got a new bike and helmet, and this year flew to Eads, Colorado to continue his journey, this time with his wife following behind and their friend riding ahead. Wow, what a courageous (or insane?!) dude. Anyway, we reached Houston around 930-1000 or so and Kathy was waiting for us at "The Eatin' Place", a local breakfast joint just 0.4 miles off of our route. She greeted us kindly and we all went in and sat down at a corner table, with little Maui tucked quietly under the table sleeping on her sleeping pad like she always perfectly does. Our conversation with Kathy was immediately comfortable and covered a broad range of topics, not just cycling. It was SOOOOO nice to have real human contact because we are having only superficial interactions with people out here and it's always the same thing, just describing the road conditions, where we sleep, and where/why we're riding. Our friend Joel from Virginia, who had stayed at the same Country Inn Cabins we stayed at last night in Summersville, had left after we did and knew we'd be meeting Kathy for breakfast and I'd invited him; he wasn't sure he'd join, but sure enough he rolled in right around when we finished our food and he sat with us and ordered breakfast and joined in our conversation. Again it was easy, everyone comfortable and chatting happily. When Joel finished we all needed to get back on the road and when we asked for our checks, Kathy insisted on paying for everything. What a kind and generous soul. Outside we all posed for a photo together, and then Kathy gave us sweet hugs and wished us well on our journey and we rode off. The breakfast was huge and delicious, as was the human connection, and we rode off happily satiated. The ride from Houston to Hartville was a little hillier and harder but still not too bad compared to recent days. We got to Hartville around 4 pm and rode around the tiny town scouting out the two camping locations, the courthouse lawn and the city park. There are no hotels here, but cyclists are welcome in the two aforementioned places. The courthouse lawn was gorgeous, but there was no cover, no bathroom, and no water faucet to refill bottles with, whereas the park had a covered pavilion with electricity, simple bathrooms, and a well from which we could get water so the park was the easy choice. Joel was already there in the park and we rode off on the half-mile jaunt for dinner at the only cafe in town while he stayed there. The dinner was AWFUL. Everything was fried in what seemed like 10-year old oil, it was dirty, the service was slow, and the food was terrible and expensive compared to what other restaurants have been charging out here. We'd have been MUCH better off going to the convenience store and getting a jar of peanut butter, more tortillas, and some jelly and eating just that for dinner; it's so amazing out here how much difference there can be between restaurant quality in these tiny towns and sometimes it's deliciously homemade like grandma used to cook and other times it super gross and dirty and nasty. There seems to be no rhyme or reason, it's just the luck of the draw what you happen to get. When leaving the restaurant and heading next door to the little grocery store to get some breakfast food for tomorrow, I then noticed my back tire side wall was SHREDDING in multiple places. WTF?! I haven't ridding in any rocky gravel that would shred my tire like that. It's just falling apart! Clearly the tire was not safely rideable on a bike tour from this point forward, but as we hunkered down in the shade in front of the Hartville Town and Country grocery store, Google Maps revealed to me my biggest fear come true: no bike shops anywhere reasonably nearby. The closest bike shop was around 50 miles away in Springfield, and closed until tomorrow morning at 11 a.m., but I certainly could not ride there on these Ozark hills - the tire could literally blow at any time. As we sat there in shock (WHY is my tire disintegrating? HOW are we going to fix this? WHY did I bring a spare tire on my 2010 TransAm but NOT on the 2022 one? I bought really expensive tires, keep them aired properly, and ride gently so WHY is the back one falling apart?) a kind grocery customer asked us about our trip. We had just discovered the tire problem just 5 minutes before so we were not able or in the mood to have a discussion about our bike tour and where we're going and how it's been. We were honest, told him that we were in trouble and pretty much stranded, and he went into problem-solving mode, calling his cousin and several of his friends that he thought might be going to Marshfield (25 miles away, with only a Walmart) or Springfield (around 50 miles away, with multiple bike shops). No one was available so I gently inquired as to whether he might drive us to Marshfield and I could pay for his gas. He did not hesitate even one second and said yes and promptly we got to work loading our bikes in the back of his pickup, strapping them down securely with ratchet straps, and hitting the road. He was so kind, wanting to let me get the bikes secured in the pickup bed so that they did not get damaged, and then telling us he would drive carefully to ensure they didn't shift around while en route to Marshfield. His plan was to take us to Walmart, wait for us while I went inside to see if they had a tire I could use, and then drive us to the only hotel in town, the Holiday Inn Express that we generally really like. Brandon Miller was this kind soul's name, and he was amazing. We enjoyed the 25-mile drive a lot; he was very talkative, told us all about Missouri, why he likes it here, about his work as a farmer and a volunteer firefighter, as well as some of his thoughts on COVID (real, get vaccinated, don't be scared to go out and live life) and Missouri life (it's cool to be able to do whatever you want without hassle here). When we got to Marshfield, I found a tire in Walmart!!!! It's a HORRIBLE tire, but it fits my bike. It's super heavy, has a LOT of rolling resistance, and I would never buy this tire ever ever ever in any other circumstance, but today it was a blessing to find it. They had three in stock, thankfully, and I bought one. Walking out victoriously holding the tire over my head, I approached truck and everyone was happy at our great result. Brandon drove us to the hotel but refused my multiple attempts at paying for his gas or paying for the dinner he planned to get next door before driving home (note: he did not live in Hartville where he had met us, he lived 15 miles away from there, so to get home from this hotel, he had to drive the 25 miles back to where he got us and then another 15!!). We posed for a picture with Brandon, he asked that we send some occasional pictures to him on our journey, and then he took off and we went into the hotel. The Holiday Inn Express had a room available for us, more expensive than we've had to pay in other cities at $149+tax rather than the $70-110+ tax that we typically are paying out here, but we felt so fortunate to be there that we paid it and went straight to the room. Vanesa went to shower, and I went straight to fixing my tire. It went on perfectly on the first try and I hopped into bed, the stress melting away on the comfortable bed with the problem now solved and watching Game 1 of the NBA finals. Tomorrow the plan is to head from here (Marshfield, MO) to Ash Grove, MO where they have a historic house in the city park that they open to cyclists who need a place to sleep and take a shower. They're so kind out here, so many folks wanting to help cyclists! I don't think it's quite this way out West; here you can camp in the city parks without hassle, whereas in the West from Colorado to Oregon, as I recall you'll either get run out by the cops or get a ticket.