ruu lose sau, /uu iu»cter, you lose sugar and, finally, your mind.Toward the middle of the afternoon I began hating my bicycle, John Karras, and the beautiful Iowa countryside; pretty much in that order.A skinny, elevfen-ye$-old boy rode up beside me and said;•Would you like^afl ice-cube,,Mr.Kaul?”Where he got an ice cube ot^t there in the middle of that desert is beyond me, but there itwas in a paper cup,' I popped it into my mouth and stopped hating my bicycle and the Iowa countryside. I'll never. forgive Karras for getting me into this, however.VT!HE NEXT low point came as I felt myself drifting toward death, My brains were fried and I found myself hallucinating about Antarctica. I knew 1 had about 100 yards - left in me. •It was then that 1 came upon a fellow cyclist who seemed to be crying,“What’s' wrong old fellow? Did your wife collapse and die?”“No,” he answered. “It’s .worse than that. I just asked* a farmer how much further Storm Lake is and he said 10 miles.”At that point, 1 seemed to be crying.Then, as we crested the next hill, Storm l.*ake came into view.The Taj Mahal? You can have it. The Golden Gate Bridge at sunset? Ugly,What is beautiful is Storm Lake, Ia„ after an all-day bike ride.As we arrived at the motel,beat, a man with an odometer on his bicycle informed us we had pome 70 miles.It felt like 7W.{Tune in tomorrow to therollicking adventures of o.t. Coffpc in the Iowa countryside in jh episode entitled; “This js For* Bodge, it must be Tuesday.”)OJSHOPDOWNK$,0^*