Mon velo est cassé

the rumors are true. Greg had an epic bike failure. His dellaireur est completement casse. Totally detruit. We are not really sure what happened, but think it has to do with not tying off that kevlar thread properly. He had broken a second spoke but had fixed it with the thread and was riding into a thirty mile crosswind. Something didn’t feel right and he realized that the difficulty was not from le vente. It was because his derailleur was in his spokes. It was unfixable. Both the cage and hanger were bent like pretzels. We walked the seven miles to barachois where we were lucky that there was a train station. We rode the rails to the next town with a bike shop. The train ride was gorgeous. The tracks run super close to the water and the large waves seem as if they’ll overtake the train in places. We stayed at the new richmond hotel where the curtains are brocaded and the are old typewriters and phonographs for decor along with calendars of scantily clad women. The only mechanic in town fixed greg’s bike by welding metal to his frame then re tapping the hanger. Awesome. So, we are back on the road and just made dinner in the mess hall of the swankiest provincial park in new brunswick.