The final hours

I never finished my moving tale. Obviously, we made it home. It only took... I don't know. We left Lowell, Mass at... 8ish and my mom dropped me at home just after 8 that night.

I actually don't want to write about the return trip because it involves a highly volatile encounter with some jacknut in NYC. I still get sick to my stomach thinking about it and how crazy that guy was. Sick to my stomach like thinking, gee, we could have died.

Let's talk, instead, about the final hours of the bike ride.

When I left OC Sunday morning, I was making little promises to myself the entire way: get over that first bridge, and then you can stop. Get over that second bridge, stop. Get to the first rest area and stop. Get to 35 miles out and stop. Get here, get there. Get to absolute 150, wherever that is, and just flat-out stop.

When we three were within 30 miles of the finish, I knew I could make it. 30 miles! That's less than a trip to Valley Forge and back! Nevermind that I'd only spent some 11 hours and 140+ miles in the saddle over the last 36 hours... Punchy, exhausted, and sunburnt (each rest stop found me shivering), we three crossed the finish line in team formation.

And even though I spent the entire weekend declaring my outright hate for this ride, I've already considered next year. Next year, I want to raise $1,000. That makes me a VIP and VIPs get free massages at the end of the ride. That, my friends, is why we ride.

Speaking of massages, 9 days until Chocolate Town.

How to turn my frown upside down

Coming back from the grocery last night, I was putzing on Ridge Pike, just a mile or so outside of Philadelphia city limits. In the rearview mirror, I see a little blue car jet in and out of traffic, but ultimately, the little blue car gets nowhere. The lot of us are stopped, then, at a light. Next to me is a white car, looks like what Mike's mom drove back in the day; a big old Caprice. I don't pay it much mind, the light changes, and off we go. The little blue car cuts behind me, cuts to the left of me (and behind the Caprice), and then, as soon as there's a hair-width available, cuts in front of me, narrowly avoiding both my bumper and the Caprice's bumper. I scowl, and am just about to articulate in my mind, "Where are the freakin' cops when this shit happens?" when the Caprice turns on its whirligig lights and pulls over the fucker in the little blue car. Unmarked cop cars!!! Love it.