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Thu, Aug 19 @ 12:42 AM - I hope my pony knows the way back home

massilon,oh | miles since last update | 4000 total so far

met my dad last night. Last day is a wet one. 25 miles to go!


Wed, Sep 29 @ 7:10 PM - Bringing my public up to speed...

| miles since last update | total so far

To fill in the gaps for you, I stayed with James and Annie for a week in Cincinnati, during which time I helped a friend move down to Bloomington where he's currently attending grad school for photography, ate lots of good food, loafed around, watched movies and overhauled my bike. It was a regular hobbit's sojourn at the House of Elrond. From there I rode across Indiana to Chicago in three days (119 miles, 105 miles, 147 miles consecutively).

Indiana was the first state to almost defeat me. When I'd ridden about 34 miles from James's house on the first day, I stopped to notice that both my sleeping bag and Thermarest-- both of which I'd sealed in garbage bags because of the three-day Indiana rain i was forced to deal with-- were missing.

I rode back six miles to find them both tattered by the roadside, where they'd been hit by one of the dumptrucks that were carting gravel back and forth up the road. The Thermarest looked irreparable, and they were both utterly saturated and caked in mud. I pushed despair aside, tied them back to the bike, and pressed on.

Though I initially planned on aiming for a 200 mile day sometime in Indiana, I realized I was finished when I hit Franklin, IN, a little college town where the sun was already setting and I was exhausted. I had a decent meal at a little diner in town, and then went straight to the police station to ask about staying in the park for the night.

Dudes, believe me when I tell you that I schmoozed like I've never schmoozed before! I told him I was traveling the country by bike interviewing people in all the little towns I went through, and would be writing a newspaper story about it when I returned to chicago. The cop told me that they'd been having problems with vagrants and prostitutes, and that the park was normally off limits at night, but called his sergeant to see if they could make special exceptions.

The sergeant declined, and I was told that the nearest place to camp was 15 miles south of the town (completely out of my way) and that my only other option was to, "Go to one of the bars in town, get a little bit too drunk, and then I'll throw you in a cell over night for public intoxication."

I lit up and told him, "I'd love to stay in a jail cell!"

He told me there was only one toilet, in the middle of the room, and that it was filled with about 7 other people who'd already puked themselves a kiddy pool. "I'm really sorry I can't help you out more," he said. "But please don't write anything nasty about this paper, all right? We've got enough problems!"

By this time it was dark, and I was getting a bit worried. I started wandering around the streets of the town asking young-looking people if I could stay in their yards. However, classes wouldn't start for another five days, so there weren't so many students around yet. Finally, I happened upon what appeared to be frat row, and I walked up and knocked on the first door I saw (a house with a beach volley ball court in the front yard). The frat boys there were nothing if not cordial, and offered me a shower, a couch and an opportunity to relieve soaking-wet sleeping bag of its duties for the night. I watched Fear Factor with them and drank Natural Ice, and went to bed exhausted.

The next day I left before the sun had risen, had breakfast at the same diner as the night before, was interviewed and photographed by a small Indiana newspaper reporter (who promised to send me a copy of the paper but hasn't), got rained on some more, and rolled into Attica, IN with minutes to spare before what looked like a huge storm would come rolling through. I ate a lemon freeze from a tastee-freez knockoff, chatted with some kids whose faces could barely be seen through the ice cream, and decided that I was a good person and well worth the cost of a night's stay in a cheap motel.

However, when I'd gotten to the small downtown area, a married couple in their middle-forties approached me asking about my travels and my plans. I told them about the trip, and they told me that a friend of theirs had just opened a new hotel on the main street in town. "It's $65," they said, "but you don't need to stay there! Why don't you just throw your bike in the back our pickup and you can stay out at our farm? We're just picking up some Chinese food here."

We ordered Chinese food, had a beer next door while we waited for it, bought another case of beer for the road, picked up the food and went back to their house. And let me tell you-- their house was fucking amazing. They'd built it themselves over the past few years, and it was seated in the midst of 645 acres of former reservation territory. They were some of my most hospitable hosts yet, had converted 70 acres of their land to reforesting the area, and had built stone walls and walkways around the house from stones they'd found in their fields. Additionally, everything on the grounds was organic, and I got a lovely sampling of some delicious homegrown foods.

I had a lovely night's stay there, and the rain crashing down on the roof outside soothed me to sleep.

The next day I pushed myself harder than I had during the entire rest of the trip. I rode before dawn, and was still riding, soaked, filthy and coated with grime three hours after the sun had bid the day adieu. In Merrillville, I met a guy so excited about what I was doing that he bought me a gatorade and a powerbar and rode 20 miles or so with me. He was training for his own weekend trip, down to Indianapolis and back, and was shocked to discover that I'd already done 107 miles and was still kicking his ass as he neared the end of his 30 mile jaunt.

I arrived at home late, and immediately went to a going-away party for my friends Hans and Hanna, who were leaving the next morning for NYC. I was barely able to keep my eyes open at the party, but hopped in the van the next morning with them without losing any inertia. I spent about a week in NYC, lived expensively, and attended some of the smaller demonstrations outside the Republican National Convention.

Then, onward to Boston, where my friend Marge met me at the China town bus stop, and three of my friends were sitting in attendance at the World Science Fiction Convention there. Without tickets, Marge and I couldn't attend the convention and so waited out the duration with mediterranean food and a pitcher of sangria. Afterward we met up with the dudes for a string of after-parties at the Sheraton hotel; what a treat it was to see so many nerds in such happy company! And so many adorned in the garb of his or her personal Sci-Fi penchant! We drank and ate, and went home spinning and happy.

I spent the next few days there, learned to play Texas Holdem, became acquainted with Ali G, drank my friends' home-brewed beer and caught a flight out on a Tuesday morning.

Now I'm back, job-hunting, writing, and partying too much, but with lots of great ideas, and time with which to implement them. When I've finished my 'reflections' piece, I shall let you see it. Ta-ta for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the way, that website I was trying to post for you but kept fucking up is-

www.fark.com/archives/index.2004-07-11.html for the original link, or

forums.fark.com/cgi/fark/comments.pl?IDLink=1024809

for the smarmy remarks from the armchair statementists.












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