Daily Miles: 62
Total Miles: 2938
Avg: 13.3
Max: 23.8
Time on the Bike: 04:36:59
The moisture during the night was severe. I don’t understand it. I woke up and my tent was saturated. I’ve never experienced this much non-rain tent drenching on any other trip. Maybe that is just part of the desert. Maybe that’s how vegetation gets water here. I don’t know.
The day’s riding was fine and nothing special. I continued on highway 60 and stayed on it all day. It was pretty flat and straight as it progressed me through the valley and in between two mountain ranges. The sky was blue and lovely and the temperature never broke 65, and it was ideal cycling weather.
About 4 miles out from the RV park I was planning to stay at I noticed my rear tire was flat. Great. I pulled over to the side of the road and went through the ritual of taking all my bags off and removing the wheel, prying the tire loose and taking out the tube. I found the hole and the small piece of wire that had caused it and took it out. I patched it and was on my way again in 20 minutes.
I rode for a mile and noticed that my rear tire was flat, again! I blurted out some expletives and grumbled and shouted. I was literally 3 miles from where I needed to go. I pulled over to the side of the road, again, and took off everything, again, and took out the tube…again. I inspected it very carefully and found two more holes. I also found two small thorns in the tire and removed them. I tossed the tube in my bag to throw away later. It now had six holes in it and it made more sense to just put my spare tube on. I eventually got everything back together and made it to the campground, and the wheel didn’t get flat again so I think I got all the prickly stuff out. I guess I must have ran over a prickly branch or something. Ugh. Aggravating.
I checked into the campground and made my way to the tent area. There is a big metal A-Frame structure here and I set my tent up underneath it. Hopefully it mitigates the dew on my tent. The lady that checked me in told me there was BINGO at the rec center tonight at 7:00 PM and I was welcome to attend. Each game was 25c for 3 squares and the winner won the pot.
I haven’t played BINGO in a long time and I had nothing better to do except sit in my tent in the dark, so I went. When I entered the rec room it was packed. Everyone was at least 30 years older than me and had grey and white hair. A nice lady came up to me and explained the rules for the night and I had a seat next to Steve and Ann, a nice couple from Wyoming.
“Were you playing golf today?” Steve asked.
“No, sir,” I said, “I’m just camping here tonight. I’m cycling across the country.”
“Well I’ll be darned,” he said. “Where did you start?”
“Florida,” I replied. “I’m heading to San Diegio.”
“Did you ride I-10 most of the way here?”
“No, the route tends to go on back roads and non-interstate highways when it can. I was only on I-10 for a few miles in Texas.”
Okay. This really gets me. Steve has not been the first person to ask me if I’ve ridden mostly on the interstate. I’ve been asked this multiple times. It’s weird. It’s like the only road that exists to people in cars is the one that is the fastest and most direct, as if there are no other roads anywhere else between point A and point B. I’ve never really noticed this before until I went cycling. I guess it speaks to a larger philosophy of transportation. We go places the fastest way possible, pretty much all the time, because we want to get there in the least amount of time possible, as if driving is a nusance that is a waste of time. Rarely do we go out of our way driving to see where a road goes or to look at something interesting. We drive to get somewhere faster, and that’s pretty much it.
“Don’t you get cold at night?” Ann asked. “It’s supposed to get down to 42 tonight!” She said this as if it wasn’t going to be 42 but 0 degrees, as if 42 was some treacherously frigid temperature and I may end up getting frostbite in my toes if Indint wear socks to bed.
“I have a warm sleeping bag that keeps me toasty,” I said. “42 degrees is actually really comfortable for sleeping.”
She smiled and nodded. “I could never do what you do. That’s really incredible. If I slept on the ground I wouldn’t be able to move the next day.”
Numbers started to get called and the games began. It was fun checking off my numbers and playing. The people there absolutely loved it. They were hooting and hollering and having a great time. Some even had whistles and tamberines. For some reason whenever 22 got called the BINGO hall turned into an orchestra, bells and whistles and hurrahs filling the air with a cacophony of jubilation.
People shouted “BINGO!” enthusiastically all night, like they were playing for a new car instead of a couple bucks. I probably would have shouted just as loud if I had actually won. But sadly it was not my day. I never even came close to a BINGO. But at least they had coffee and an epic spread of baked goods. Cookies and muffins and donuts. Coffee and tea and soft drinks. I shoveled all of it in free of charge and without any guilt. I may not have restored my coffers but my belly was full and I had a sugar high all the way to the moon and back.
Success.
