Читать книгу I Tried Not To Cry - Michael Beattie - Страница 11

Chapter 5

The East Coast Tests My Limits

Once again, I sleep like a baby all night, despite the highway noise, which doesn’t seem to affect my almost comatose body. I pack up quickly and head to the continental breakfast which is offered at the motel. I take my morning supplements along with ibuprofen with the juice that’s offered. Bagels with cream cheese and two coffees fill me up along with fruit for the ride as I depart into the twenty-nine-degree early morning start. It’s hard to describe how sore I am, as I mount the bike and coast down the hill toward New Jersey. After a short ride which takes me below the Interstate 84, I enter the state of New Jersey and ride alongside the Delaware River. It’s cool riding along the river on the windy and somewhat narrow roadway, which eventually takes me to the town of Montague, where I enter the Delaware River Water Gap National Recreation Area. The not well-maintained paved road parallels the river to my right, as I dodge a continuous series of potholes that can easily end my ride if I don’t pay close attention. The Appalachian Trail is to my left, and the Delaware River to my right, as the sun is slowly warming the air to the point where I can remove my gloves and an outer layer of clothes.

It stays cool as the mountains to my left block the sun’s rays from hitting me as I move along this remote area. The only traffic I encounter all morning is that of the high population of white-tailed deer, which dart across in front of me often, as I have to keep a constant vigil to not hit one, as my quiet riding allows me to almost sneak up on them. My route takes me to the small town of Columbia where I stop at a bagel shop in an old railroad station and consume a bagel with cream cheese and a large strong coffee. This seems like a nice little town where I’m able to converse with quite a few people regarding my journey, many of whom are cyclists also, and are here for a break. I hand out my cards. The sun has warmed the day as I cross the river into Pennsylvania and continue to ride with the water now on my left side. The road does a series of climbs and descents before putting me in Riverton, where I’m able to grab a sandwich for lunch at a café. The ride continues as I cross back onto the New Jersey side of the river again. The sights and sounds of nature, including many birds of prey along the watershed area, help take my mind off the discomforts that I’m experiencing. It’s a quiet day as far as traffic is concerned on the New Jersey side of the river, as I’m able to take up the whole road as I deem fit. There is something to be said about the solitude I’m experiencing, along with the smells that some early spring sprouting vegetation is producing along my route.

As the day wears on, I’m getting very tired once more. I enter the town of Phillipsburg, New Jersey, still having to cross over the river into Easton, Pennsylvania, where my motel is located. I spot a small Italian eatery called the La Bella Via just before the bridge area that I need to cross and decide to stop here for dinner. I seat myself at the front counter that faces a beehive-type wood-fired oven used for baking various dishes, along with pizzas. The place is not busy this time of the day, and a gentleman who claims to be the owner waits on me as I order a large pasta meal and a beer. After talking with the gentleman who questions me of my ride, he serves me another beer and says it’s on the house. A veteran himself, he thanks me for my efforts and wishes me well. This is what drives me to continue as my body says, “No more.” As I eat my food, I’m entertained by the owner as he masters the various dishes and pizzas that are rotated in place with a long-handle wooden paddle. We chat as he seems to know just when to pull an item from the oven, never looking at any clock or timer. The food is fantastic, and the microbrewed beer is even better, as I finish and bid farewell, but not before asking how to cross over the river. There are two bridges that seem to cross over the large river, and one has a highway which I can’t be on. He points toward the proper bridge to cross, and soon I’m crossing over the waterway within sight of my Quality Inn motel. The motel is located right around the corner from the Crayola Crayon Factory, and will be my home for the night. The room is clean and in my budget range, so I’m happy. I consume my daily bag of nuts, which I picked up at a small general store along the way, then head for the hot shower. The temperature reached as high as fifty-eight degrees today, which made for a nice ride after the cold start. My smelly clothes come off fast, as I head for the hot shower. When I can just wheel my bike into the room and live out of the side bags, it’s an easy task. I’m praying I don’t get any second-floor rooms without an elevator. But right now, I really could care less. I just want to soak in a shower as my butt has developed sores along today’s ride, and I want to dress them with bacitracin ointment. My knees, especially my right one, are really killing me, and I’m not sure how far I should try to push along tomorrow. Once again, I get ice from the machine down the hallway and apply it to both knees. My research shows no motels along my route for nearly eighty-two miles tomorrow, and I’m not sure I can make it that far feeling this way. I’m unable to book a room, so I’ll try to make it to Conshohocken, Pennsylvania, tomorrow in hopes of finding a room. It’s too cold to camp just yet, and I need to have ice for my knees as well as a good night’s sleep. I don’t like the unknown, but I’ll continue on and see what develops. I met some wonderful people today on the road and handed out many of my cards. My body craves all the sleep it can get, so after I post my blog to Facebook for the people who are following me, I hit the bed.

There are not many bodies stirring about this early, as I head to the small breakfast buffet which is offered by the motel. It’s another thirty-degree morning as I eat alongside a few construction workers who are staying at the motel. I consume more food than any one person should, in order to help provide me with the energy I’ll need today to ride another eighty-plus miles. My knees feel fairly good this morning as I believe the icing helped some, but they haven’t been tested yet. The cold air hits my face as I exit the motel and mount the seat with my sore butt. Heading to the bridge I crossed last evening, daylight is just beginning. After the bridge crossing, I stop to recheck my map and my Google Maps in order to properly get back onto my route without getting lost, not wanting to add any extra distance to the already long ride I have today. I’ve stopped at two veteran clubs prior to today along my route to explain to them of my journey, and also to offer the food pantry assistance to any veterans in need. No one seems to really care about what I’m doing, which is very disappointing to me, but I’ll continue to stop at all veteran clubs and organizations that are along my route. I sort of get the feeling that these people think I’m a nutcase and incapable of doing what I tell them about. I also have a feeling that many of these people don’t believe there’s really a veteran hunger problem in the country. Something I never thought of myself until I got to witness the problem firsthand, as I interacted with many affected veterans.

The backstreets I’m riding on this morning are filled with trash cans at the roadside, as it must be trash pickup day. This looks like a mill town area, or once was a mill town, as the streets are filled with multifamily-looking housing. The traffic is getting heavy just before I’m once again dropped onto the river road, which again takes me alongside the Delaware River. I’m able to stop after a cool morning ride in the town of Milford for a coffee and snack before pushing on. My knees are doing well up till now as I continue to wear my knee support braces. I ride through the towns of Frenchtown, Byram, and Lambertville to name a few before my route once again takes me over a bridge to the Pennsylvania side of the river. I stop here for a lunch break and remove a layer of clothing as the sun is slowly warming the air. It’s fifty-nine degrees now as I consume my lunch, and the warmth feels so nice. I’m trying a thin layer of diaper rash cream on my butt sores in hopes that it will help my situation, or possibly keep it from getting any worse. I have had several people stop me on the roadside to offer their assistance to me today, as well as to donate money. This makes me feel better, as not getting any offer of assistance from the veterans clubs disturbs me to no end. My plan prior to leaving was to stop at any veterans clubs along my route, and I will continue to do this no matter what. Someone needs to tell everyone about the situation that so many of our veterans face daily. My mind wanders about my meetings with homeless veterans as I move along the secluded back roads today, helping to erase the pains I’m having with not only my butt, but also my knees, hands, and elbows as well. I keep telling myself it’ll get better as I advance along. The hills in Pennsylvania are proving to be tough today, making it harder as I move along as my leg muscles ache. It’s up one side, down the other, only to be repeated again. The only room I could find along my route last evening was double my daily budget, so I opted not to book it. If I can find a room within a short distance from my route, I will try that option. My day wears on as each mile is getting longer and harder for me, as I finally reach the outskirts of Conshohocken, Pennsylvania. I try to locate another motel to ride to, but they’re too far for me to attempt to get to, as I’m too exhausted to ride any further. I reach the front of the high-priced hotel and decide to go inside to see if I can negotiate a lower rate.

Inside, I speak to a fellow at the front desk and explain to him my mission, then ask if he can offer a better price for me. He asks me if I’m a member of their loyalty club, in a prim and proper way, to which I answer no. This hotel looks like something I can never afford to stay at, yet, I’m hurting, and I think the desk attendant can see it. He offers me his best price, which is still way too much for my pockets. I tell him all I want is a bed and a shower, not a fancy suite. He takes me to the side so the other attendant can’t hear our conversation. He tells me that if I check in he would pull some strings to get me a better deal. Being as tired as I am, and not wanting to even look elsewhere, I say okay. After the paperwork is tended to, the attendant offers to help me to the room with my gear. He’s a nice young man who keeps thanking me over and over again for what I’m doing for our veterans. I’m so exhausted, I let him push my bike and gear to the room. When he opens the door to the suite, I immediately realize why the cost is so high. I have never stayed in such a beautiful place! It has a full kitchen with a dining room area, a study area with all the electronic connections a businessman would ever need. There’s a separate sleeping room with a huge walk-in closet. The bathroom itself is like a suite area with a soaking tub separate from the huge walk-in shower. The attendant tells me before he departs that he will take care of me regarding the cost. I can’t thank him enough. I strip off my clothes and head to fill the tub with hot water. I shower before soaking in the tub as my butt sores are getting worse and I fear infection. I stopped today at a pharmacy to purchase a small hand mirror so I can keep an eye on them. They don’t look good, and seem to be open and sore. All I can do is either stop riding, or keep applying antibiotic ointment. I apply more ointment.

After cleaning up, I walk down the hall to the bar area and have a cold beer and some nuts. I order a flatbread pizza along with toppings at a high cost, but I’m just happy I don’t have to walk anywhere to eat. Several patrons at the bar area engage me in a conversation about my journey, as I hand out my cards to them. I’m thanked for my efforts as the food tastes so wonderful. I wonder if this is how the upper-income population lives while traveling and working. Although I have had to travel for my business at times, I always tried to find the least costly places to bed down. Part of my growing up in a poor mill village I guess, but this place is something I could get used to, and I can see how people get spoiled. As I’m having a second beer, the attendant that checked me in pulls me aside and states that he got me a good deal. After telling me the cost, I couldn’t thank him enough. He said, “No, thank you for what you’re doing for our veterans.” I feel better after this news! I make my way eventually back to my suite and fall asleep in the most comfortable bed my memory can recall.

The receipt for my room was slid under the door last evening as I slept. When I look at it, it is even less money than the attendant told me last evening. It’s reaffirming that there’s still good young people in the world, and I’m meeting them each day. After repacking my gear, I make my way to the kitchen dining area where before me stands the most wonderful display of food items. I gorge myself on fresh fruits, yogurt, waffles, an omelet, juice, and coffees. I take a couple pieces of fruit for my day’s ride before leaving. Wonderful! Again, I didn’t book a room last evening before bed as I’m not sure how far I can go today, and my maps and notebook indicate a vast number of motels along the route with reasonable prices. As I step outside, I’m met with a light rain as I don my light rain jacket. I’m sad to leave this most beautiful hotel, knowing I can’t afford to attempt this again. I continue along the Schuylkill bike trail in the cold rain, which will eventually take me to the Valley Forge Trail. The first nine miles is easy flat riding along the trail with the Schuylkill River to my left, with its shore dotted with beautiful homes and manicured grounds. With an early morning temperature of forty-six degrees, it’s a pleasant ride even in the light rain, as squirrels zigzag across my path. The smell of spring fills the air—it’s so good to be alive, sore or not!

As I enter the Valley Forge National Park area, I’m met with steep short hill climbs which start my knees acting up again. I’m forced to get off the bike many times to walk the steep hills, trying to avoid doing any more damage to them. This park is a beautiful area with so much history to experience, but I have no time to stop anywhere, as my pains of moving ahead take priority. I must concentrate on my mission and keep moving forward. The next fifty miles turns into all hills, and my knees are screaming to stop. Luckily the rain has given up, but I can’t yet. This could be the end of the ride! Now my route has come to a bridge closure, as I stop to google a new route to get me back en route. I’m so discouraged and in pain, as I have to add another ten miles to my ride. I’m sure the ride today is beautiful, but I’m having a hard time remembering much of it, as my mind is constantly dealing with not only my knees, but also my so very uncomfortable butt, which I stop often to dress with ointment. I finally make it to an Amish Pennsylvania town called Reamstown, some sixty-two miles from my morning start. The Amish buggies are going faster than I am, as I struggle to reach a motel.

I’m able to find a room at the Penn Amish Motel and decide to take it as it’s inexpensive, and I need to take a day of rest for my knees. I guess after a day of rest and icing my knees I’ll better be able to determine whether I can continue or not. I’m so discouraged right now, I could cry. Mentally I’m so down, yet, I’m not a quitter! Oh, how I wish I was thirty years old and not nearly the sixty-seven that I am. I guess my body has not caught up with my mind which still thinks it can do marathons. My room is very basic with no TV, microwave oven, or refrigerator, but at least there’s an ice machine outside the hallway. I struggle to remove my clothes, and then stand in a hot shower, soaking every muscle in my body. I could just cry! I get dressed and head for the ice machine down the outside hallway. I rig an ice pack from a plastic bag and room towel to use on my knees. I’m going to go crazy for a whole day with nothing to do, but I know I must rest and ice my knees in order to possibly continue on. The nearest food is quite a way down the road, and it really hurts to walk. A small convenience store is located just across the road a bit, so after icing, I hobble across to see what they have for food items. I purchase a couple bags of nuts as well as a couple of beers that might help me a bit or at least hydrate me some. I pick up some instant-noodle-type meals which I can cook on my single burner stove in my pot back at the room. I can add the dried vegetables that I brought with me as a supplement. I can’t believe how long it’s taking me to get back to the room. Damn!

Pain has been my middle name for so many years now, and I seem to be able to continue on when many would give up. My mindset is to push the pain aside and concentrate on my mission. I’m hoping the icing and a good night’s sleep will help me. I have many prayers coming my way from friends as well as Facebook friends who have been following my adventures via my nightly posts. Many of these people I don’t even know, yet, their words of encouragement have helped to push me along. Many of these people I have met on the road along the way, as they have made friends with me on Facebook and now follow me daily online. It seems like the remarks that I receive are very positive, so even though I am usually too tired each evening to post something, I will continue to do so. I also post a few photos of my ride along with a short story. I dislike posting anything about my discomforts, because I don’t want to sound negative. This is also a great way to bring to light the story of hunger that exists for many of our veterans. After contacting my home base and completing my evening post online, I receive a phone call as I lie icing my knees. It’s from a good friend back home, Dick Staples. Dick and I have been friends for over forty years, stemming from a daily morning coffee shop ritual where a group of us enjoyed stories each morning before work. Dick always has a funny story to share, and his call is uplifting.

Last night was difficult trying to sleep as my knees were throbbing so. Thank God for ibuprofen! I feel a bit better this morning as I contemplate walking to get breakfast or staying in the room and having oatmeal which I can cook on my little stove. I decide that I’m going to be stuck in this room all day, so I will slowly walk about a quarter mile down the road to a diner I observed yesterday, in hopes of a big breakfast. The smell of horse manure fills the air in this predominantly farm country area as I gingerly make my way along the roadside in the cool, crisp air. My home for twenty-five years was next to a dairy farm in rural eastern Connecticut, so I love the smells of farm life. At the diner, I belly up to the counter, sitting on a padded stool which faces the busy workers serving and taking orders. Many farmworkers and such come and go after their fill of home-style cooking. The folks are friendly as I speak with many of them after being asked of my journey. The lettering on the back of my shirt almost always prompts a conversation. As usual, I hand out my cards to anyone I have the opportunity to talk with, never asking for a donation of any kind, as I let the cards do the asking for me. I consume a huge breakfast special which includes eggs, home fried potatoes, ham, homemade sourdough toast, juice, and coffees. I love food, and my body needs nourishment to help me heal. My knees started talking to me as I walked back to my room, indicating I need to do nothing but rest all day and continue the icing.

My entire day is consumed on my bed, as I study my map routes trying to plan a short ride for tomorrow. I’m so glad I dried fruits and vegetables prior to departing, as they provide me with some good nutrition which I need. I add the dried veggies to a Ramen soup for lunch, and again for dinner, as I don’t want to chance any damage by walking to the dinner again. Anything goes good in a Ramen soup as far as I’m concerned, as long as it fills me. My body is craving food and fluids as I drink more than needed today, hoping it will help heal whatever is causing my knees to act up. I use my phone to entertain me as I ice my knees on and off then soak them with hot towels. I book a room at the end of the day in Columbia, Pennsylvania, a short forty-two miles away, thinking if I ride easy and slow tomorrow, it will be a good trial test for the knees. I’m not sure what the problem is, but in the past while hiking, I have encountered the same issue. Usually rest and icing have helped, yet, I’m anxious to see if I can continue on like this, or will this be the end? The unknown is driving me crazy. I turn in early after making my contacts at home and online.

Feeling rested after twelve hours of sleep, I look forward to my departure as I leave a bit later in the morning due to my shorter anticipated ride today. As I mount my bike in the cold air, my knees feel so much better after the good night’s rest. But how long will it last? My butt sores wake me up fast as I hit the saddle and make my way to the same diner I visited yesterday to have another big breakfast. I wear my gloves again in the low thirty-degree start, staying covered and warm, knees supports and all. Once again, I enjoy conversations at the diner, chatting with the regulars. I always leave a card on the counter when I leave any business I visit. In the back of my mind I’m hoping a wealthy person may find it and make a big monetary donation. Well, I can dream. After departing the diner, I make my way along some most beautiful Amish country back roads as a cold wind clears my head. A CVS pharmacy is located along my route, so I stop to resupply my Icy Hot and Aspercreme ointment, as well as a good-quality lip balm. My lips are quite wind burned from the constant cold air on my face, and I’m hoping they won’t crack open on me. I’m very thankful for my brimmed hat with the neck and ear protection that I’m using. It provides me with a bit of extra warmth for my head, and although I may look a bit funny with it under my helmet, it works! My butt sores are so uncomfortable, as I need to stop and apply ointment occasionally. As I ride along, I can’t help but drift off thinking of my mother rubbing my bare butt whenever I was sick as a youngster, to help put me to sleep. I wish she was here to rub it now!

Although I’m uncomfortable riding today, the scenery and farm smells are incredible, taking my mind off any discomforts. I find myself dodging horse manure along the roadside from all the Amish horse-drawn buggies that pass me in both directions as I’m not pushing my pace today. Occasionally, a buggy driver will wave at me, as I wave to each one who passes me by. Not wanting to really mix with outsiders much, the Amish seem friendly toward me as they can clearly see my mission stated on my back. At one intersection, I stop to double-check my route, when a father and his young children pull alongside and ask if I’m lost. I assure them that I’m not, as they quickly gallop away down the road after saying “Have a nice day” to me, as the children shyly wave to me out the small rear window of the buggy. I think how very nice it was of them to ask. Little actions like this make me glad that I’m riding and doing what I’m doing. I feel so wonderful today! The roads are mostly filled with gently rolling hills that are not taxing my knees much. Dew is hovering over the farm fields as it slowly warms into the forties, and surely spring is trying to break through. I’m seeing buds starting to appear on bushes and trees as my route takes me further south. I wonder if I’ll see any cherry blossoms when and if I reach Washington, DC. My knees feel good today so far, and my spirits are high, with one beautiful vista after another appearing in front of my slow-moving bike. Spectacular farms with no electric lines going to them, lacking machinery as one would know on a modern-day farm, just horse-pulled plows and such. It’s a different simple, yet hard lifestyle here in Amish country, but maybe there’s something to be said for it.

I’m in deep thought as I make my way along today, solving many national issues in my mind, although I’m sure most politicians wouldn’t want to hear about anything I have to say. After all, I’m a blue-collar guy, not affiliated with any political party. I also have a way of just speaking my mind with little consideration of any political constructiveness, something most politicians don’t want to hear. So, I keep thinking of how to end veteran hunger in this country, as well as ways to house the homeless and provide the job training needed to put these citizens back in the job force. I’m hoping that at some point one of our decision makers will ask me for my input on all this, but so far, after the entire letter-writing campaign Sue and I had done, no one seems interested. So, I ride and talk to anyone who will listen.

My motel in Columbia is a very nice Comfort Inn, clean, and reasonably priced. After checking in, I strip down and head for the hot shower. It’s hard to describe how wonderful this feels on my sore back and knees! It was a cool day of riding, and although the sun occasionally peaked through the clouds, it was a kind of a bone-chilling ride. A small diner is located right next to the motel, so I head there and order a load of chicken parmesan and pasta along with bread. The food is not so good, but I eat everything as I’m hungry. I really miss cooking my own food already! My love for cooking makes it an easy task for me, being a pleasure to create and try new dishes. This also allows me to control what I put into my body. I’m not a healthy food nutcase, but I do try to control what I eat, without the added garbage that some restaurants and fast-food places serve. After my food, I’m able to do my laundry at the motel which provides machines at no cost to use. As my clothes are washing, I plot my ride for tomorrow, again thinking small to not aggravate the knees any more than possible. The forecast for tomorrow is rain with high winds, so this will also be a factor in my decision-making.

I decide, after looking at available rooms, that my ride will be to Delta, Pennsylvania, on the Maryland State line. There’s a small inn there that sounds good, according to the reviews I have read, and a distance of only thirty-five miles. If I feel no worse than today, and taking into consideration the high wind and rain forecasted, that should be plenty. My laundry is done, so that’s one more issue taken care of for a few more days. After doing my nightly post and contact to home, I head to bed. The bed is fairly comfortable, although I seem to be able to sleep on anything each night, as I’m so tired. Ten to twelve hours sleep is what I seem to need to recover from the day’s ride. Ibuprofen, ice on the knees, antibiotic ointment on the butt sores, a good massage of my hands and elbows, and off to la-la land my mind goes. Tomorrow is another adventure!

I’m up before daylight to try and beat some of the forecasted wind. A small breakfast buffet is just opening in the motel, so I consume more than a man should along with my coffee before stepping out into the rain. With my rain gear on, I head toward the bridge that will take me across the large Susquehanna River from Columbia to Marietta. The weatherman is right for a change. It’s raining hard as I hope my strobe lights will warn the cars that I’m here, as I cautiously cover the bridge’s span. It’s a cold rain of forty-five degrees as I wear my gloves again. My maps have indicated that I’ll be riding alongside the river for quite a distance, and I hope that signals a flat ride. The heavy rain for the first two hours sends a chill around my entire body as the wind increases to approximately twenty miles per hour, making headway difficult. My assumption that riding along the river would indicate a flat ride turns out to be far from the truth, as it quickly turns into steep up- and downhills along a very narrow river road with little to no shoulder. It’s a very cold nerve-racking ride as I hope I can be seen by the traffic to my rear, allowing time for them to slow a bit. The rain eventually slows to a point I can shed my hot rain gear, and soon the sun comes out to warm it up at nearly sixty degrees. This feels so good and helps to take the chill out of my bones.

My knees start hurting again from the hills and wind, as I find myself getting off often to push the bike and gear uphill. Trying to concentrate on the beautiful river and nice homes that dot the shore is some relief, but not enough. The forsythia bushes are in full bright yellow color along the riverbanks as I struggle along. This short thirty-five-mile ride is turning into another long day. Thank God for the last ten miles of my day, as the headwind shifts to my back and helps to push me along, just as I’m really starting to hurt badly. The inn I booked is actually a roadside motel, which doesn’t look very nice as I ride into the parking area. I don’t really care at this point; I need a hot shower as soon as possible. They advertise a bar and restaurant attached to the motel, so this will be a plus for dinner. The lady behind the check-in counter is very nice and offers me a discount after hearing of my ride. Not much, but every dollar helps. My suspicion is right as I open the door to my room. What a dump!

I hang my wet clothes to dry, before taking a hot shower to warm up. Living out of a few side bags on the bike is turning out to be quite easy, after a little adjustment of learning to live with less, and constantly resupplying my needed items as I move along. The good part this evening is that I don’t have to go far for my food, as the bar-type restaurant is only steps from my room, which is the closest to the office. A cold beer is my first item of order as I belly up to the bar. The place looks like a workers’ bar, as a few workers and some tough-looking biker dudes sit across from me drinking beer. The menu is really not so great, mostly bar-type food. I go for the carbohydrates and protein again to fuel my body for tomorrow’s ride. The barmaid takes my order and asks me where I was riding to, as she must have seen me with my bike as I checked in. I tell her of my journey. This sparks the bikers’ attention across the bar from me, as they ask what kind of bike I had to do such a long ride. I reply, “A Jamis bicycle.”

They say, “What, are you f——ing crazy, dude?” To which I reply, “Yes, I’ve been accused of that before.” They laugh and thank me for what I’m doing, as they continue on to bad-mouth the f——ing government, and so on. “Nobody does anything for our veterans, but they have money for all these other f——ing people around the world. I bet you’re a damn vet yourself,” one of them asks, to which I answer yes. “So are we,” one claims. “Buy this dude a beer,” one man says to the barmaid. I thank him for the beer, to which he says, “F——k no, dude, thank you for what you’re doing. How in the hell old are you anyhow?” I answer, “Sixty-seven.” “Holy shit, you got to be in some kind of shape to do that.” I say I was getting there, to which they laugh. The food is so-so but tastes good, and the beer is great, as I have no problem talking with the biker dudes and the lady with them. It’s an interesting visit as the working crowd slowly filters in for food and drinks. I thank the group for the drinks and head back to my room after handshakes and receiving best wishes for a safe journey. “Be careful on the road with all those f——ing idiots out there!” I purchase a beer to take back to the room to have with my daily nuts. The traffic in and out of the parking lot is nonstop all night and into the early hours as the bar seems like a busy place. The walls are paper-thin in this room, which makes for a not very good night’s sleep.

After I have oatmeal and coffee in my room, I gather up my dry clothes, pack them away, and head out into the chilly morning air. Last evening, I booked a room in the Baltimore Plaza Hotel in downtown Baltimore, which looked like the least costly I could find on my route. I’m not looking forward to riding through Baltimore, or any other cities for that matter. I’m a country boy and really don’t care for heavily congested areas, but that’s where my route is taking me. The ride today should be around fifty-nine miles with another stiff wind. I almost immediately enter into Maryland as I ride past large horse farms and stately homes. The hills along with the constant fifteen-to-eighteen-mile-per-hour wind starts taking a toll on my legs once again. I’m forced to stop and rest my legs more than I want to. I’m trying to baby them rather than tear them up, worried once again! Eventually the route takes me through the Loyola Notre Dame college campus which has a bike lane to ride on. I feel so much better having the bike lane, as the traffic is getting really crazy busy as I near the waterfront area of the city. The bike lane ends and dumps me right in the heart of craziness city traffic. I finally reach the hotel near the waterfront section of the city, and I’m so happy to still be in one piece. God, I dislike cities! Someone is watching over me, that I’m sure of!

The hotel is an older one, but appears to be clean and doesn’t look very dangerous. The price is right as I get checked in and make my way toward the elevator. I ride to the fourth floor and exit the elevator toward my room, as things look good. The room is very nice and quiet, and I can’t hear any street traffic below. I’m happy. As I entered the hotel, I noticed an oriental restaurant just a short ways down the walkway, so in my mind, I settled for that for my dinner. There is also a liquor store to purchase beer and nuts. After showering, I head down to order an oriental dish with lots of noodles. While waiting for the order, I go next door and purchase two beers and nuts to have in my room along with the takeout food order. I love Chinese food! As I ice my knees, I enjoy a most wonderful meal along with my beer. I’m happy! I plan my attack for tomorrow as I study my options, post my Facebook blog and pictures, make my contact back home with instructions as to where I will ride tomorrow. Once again, people stopped me on the roadside to make donations today, so I must relay that information to Sue each evening so she can mail a thank-you letter and receipt to anyone donating ten dollars or more. I keep track of any smaller donations and report that amount to Sue each day so I can reimburse any funds that I use as cash from my own checking account. I don’t like riding with any amount of money on me and rely on my checking account debit card for all transactions. So far, it has been working well. The bed is good tonight, as I hope to get more rest than I did last night.

After oatmeal and a coffee in my room, I depart the hotel from the seaport area and head uphill for approximately seven miles of slow climbing with a moderate wind. This area looks very depressed, and I’m glad I started early, beating any type of rush traffic. I’m not sure what could happen in this area if I was stopped. Being a white privileged male from the country could cause me issues in this area, which appears to be such a depressed area, populated by mostly black Americans. I guess I’ve been so fortunate to grow up in an area where everyone is treated equal, so I only see people for who they are, not by any color. All people look the same to me, and if they need food assistance, I don’t really care who they are. One store after another is boarded up and out of business.

Business for the small Champlions general store slowly eroded away, as an out-of-town couple opened a larger store that offered much more than that little general store. It was known as MoQuins store, and was located on the hill just down from the stone church on the main route. Aside from gasoline for autos, it was a cross between a general store and a grocery store. Being an IGA chain store, it offered so much more for the customers, and at lower prices. Slowly, Susie faded into the shadow of that larger store, as it became a chore for her to walk from the rear of the store to the front counter. She spent most of her remaining days rocking in an old rocker located to the rear of the store, slightly behind the large wooden candy display case, where she could look out at the traffic that passed by. An occasional longtime customer would stop by, mostly to check on her and say hello. The inventory slowly diminished as the customer base shifted over to a more modern way of life. I grew older and became employed by other restaurants after turning sixteen, yet, I continued to stop and keep Susie occupied with a visitor as often as I could. Soon after this period of time, I left Eagleville to join the Navy, deployed, and served four years during the Vietnam War. It was during this period I was notified by family members that Susie had passed away, basically a lonely lady without any family. I never got to attend any services for Susie due to my deployment, but hardly a day passes that I don’t think of the sweet lady who made me the fussy worker that I turned out to be. You were right, Mrs. Champlion. After working for you, I was able to work for anyone, with careful and precise work ethics.

There seems to be no places to stop for a breakfast, but I spot a barred-up convenience store and stop to grab a coffee to have with a protein bar from my bags. This area doesn’t look safe at all, and thankfully no one seems to be moving about this early as I waste no time and keep moving out of the Baltimore surroundings. I feel so blessed to be me! I slowly make my way up and down through the towns of Ellicott City, Reisterstown, Wards Chapel, and then Brookeville. These are all very nice-looking towns with their grand homes showing the history of this area. I stop to read a historical marker as I enter Brookeville, which states that it was the US capital of our country for one day during the War of 1812. I’ll do some research on that later, as it seems interesting. The stronger winds hold off until later in the day when the sun warms it up to sixty degrees. The motel which I booked last evening is in a corporate park area of Rockville, Maryland, which requires me to ride off my route a considerable distance. Once again, I get lost. The traffic is crazy busy in this area of congestion, making my search for the motel an even slower process. After Google Mapping my way, I finally find the motel after ten hours on the saddle. It’s really discouraging to get lost in such a high traffic area being this tired. The motel is a bit pricey, but the least costly I could find in my search. Thus, I rode the extra distance to get here. My knees seem to be doing well as I didn’t push it today, riding at an easy pace. My butt is beyond sore, as I continue to treat it. I stop during my ride to rotate my shorts in hopes of keeping it dry, yet, it only seems to be effective for a short while.

My concern is finding my way back to my route in commuter traffic in the morning. Sue has scheduled me to do a visit with Congressman Joe Courtney’s office for an interview and photos at the Capitol Building. An early morning start may be needed in order to find my way on time. Also, there is the possibility of doing a TV interview, but we’re not sure yet. Sue constantly alerts news media of my journey on a daily basis after she knows of my plans for the next day. So far, we have garnered no interest in my ride to feed the hungry, so this is exiting news. Rain is forecasted for tomorrow afternoon, along with strong winds. The motel is very nice and clean, as the bed. After my icing, posting, and contacts back home, I head to bed as once again I’m tired.

After a quick bite in the motel, I head out into the dark in search of the Capital Crescent bike trail, which will somehow take me to the capital. After some crazy riding in morning commuter traffic, I somehow find the trail. I push my bike down an embankment to get on the trail, as I can’t find any other access onto it. Now that I’m on the trail, I’m not really sure which way to go, but I rely on my compass to head me in what I hope is the right direction. A young lady riding a bike passes me, as I ask her if she knows the way. She responds that she’s going that way and for me to follow her. Her pace is a bit too fast for me as she’s riding a road bike with no gear, but I keep up with her for the next twelve miles. It’s a good thing she came along, as there’s no way I could have found my way on this very complicated, not well-signed series of trails, which eventually leads to the capital area. I enter the capital area, somewhere near the Washington Monument, and coordinate by phone my meeting with an aide from the congressman’s office.

On my way, I visit and pass by the Korean War Memorial as well as the World War II Memorial. A lady offers to take my photo at the Vietnam Wall. It’s a very moving experience for me, as many people read the back of my shirt and thank me for what I’m doing. I meet with a young aide from Congressman Courtney’s office in front of the Capitol Building, where he takes pictures of me for their Facebook page. He apologizes that the congressman is back in Connecticut, but states that he is aware of my journey and very interested in my work and cause. The lad is very nice, but I sort of have the feeling that they’re being nice to me just to move me along. I guess I’ll never know, but until now I have the feeling that no one really wants to talk with me about the problem, as if trying to hide it under the rug. I know that Congressman Courtney is a good man, who fights for veterans in Connecticut, so I’ll keep talking and handing out my cards, trying to not get discouraged.

By the time I leave the capital area and cross the Arlington Memorial Bridge, the wind is really picking up. After crossing the bridge, my route takes me along the Mount Vernon bike trail, which parallels the Potomac River. The cherry trees are in bloom as well as many scrubs, which make for a fragrant ride. Not knowing how far my day would be today due to the meetings in Washington, I decide to wait until today to book a room for tonight. I stop along the trail to check my notebook and my phone for possible motels. I book an inexpensive chain motel in the Mount Vernon area. As I continue along the trail, the wind is so strong, it physically blows me off the pathway three times, making me glad I’m not riding on the road. Man, the wind is making my sixty-five-mile day seem so much farther. When I booked the room, I didn’t realize it would take me an additional eight miles off my route, so now as it’s starting to get dark, I need to push more miles toward the motel. I arrive at the Quality Inn just at dark along a very busy road, making me again thankful for my bright strobe lights. I’ll be so glad when I get away from these metropolitan high-traffic areas.

My legs are feeling good today, partially from all the stopping I did along the way, but the butt is still so uncomfortable. There are many fast-food places near my motel room, so I’ll go for something quick as it’s getting late and I still need to do my blog post. The room is okay, although nothing to write home about. It has a shower and a bed, and that’s all I want at this point. We never heard from the TV station that promised to do a story of my ride, but I’m getting used to that. Once again, I did get many people who stopped me along the way to thank me and donate to the cause, so this information is relayed on to Sue. I truly believe that these people keep me going when my mind says to stop. For now, all I need is sleep, as I continue to ice my knees before turning in.

The breakfast offered at the motel is decent, so I load up before heading back the eight miles to connect to my route. Almost immediately after rejoining my route, it starts to rain. I don my gear and continue on in this almost hot seventy-degree start. The temperature seems to be climbing as I move further south. It feels hot to me already after the below-freezing temperatures I began with not long ago. The rain continues hard for two hours before the sun comes through in its full capacity, to warm it up to eighty-seven degrees, which helps dry me off quickly. Now the wind is helping to cool me down from the heat as I push along. My knees seem to be better today as I maneuver through the hills of Virginia. I’m hoping to make it into Fredericksburg, Virginia, which is about eighty miles from my morning start. I ride through the towns of Lorton, Dale City, and finally around the Quantico Marine Corps Base area. The traffic is heavy here, as the road has little to no shoulder to ride on, and I don’t feel very safe. Car drivers blow their horns at me as if in their disapproval of me riding along the roadside. At one point, a pickup truck passes by close to me and the passenger and driver both throw trash at me. Luckily the bottle they threw just misses me, but the trash doesn’t! I’m not sure what’s wrong with people, as I’m not on the travel portion of the road, and I stay as far right as possible. I fly the US flag high above me to the rear of the bike. I’m as brightly visible as possible to warn people of my presence, and if they don’t like the American flag, well, that’s too bad because it’ll stay flying high the entire trip. I just guess some people are ignorant, as I try to not let it discourage me, but my temper is pretty hot right now!

Once again, I stop along the roadside to search for and book a room for the night. The only thing close to my budget is a room in a bed-and-breakfast-type thing called the Old Silk Mill Inn. I take it, and once again, it’s dark before I find the old mill after getting lost, which forces me to find it via my Google Maps. As I ride through the city area, a First Friday Street celebration is happening and looks like fun, but not for me. Lots of nice eateries with music and street festivities are going on. It’s 8:00 p.m., as I finally find the Old Silk Mill Inn and get checked in. My room is on the second floor with no elevator to use, so I have to disassemble all my bags and carry them up the long circular staircase to my room. Down I go returning for my bike. I struggle to push the bike up the stairs as I’m exhausted. Another fellow sees me struggle and lends a hand to my efforts. I thank him. The shower feels so good! I hang my wet clothes to dry out and opt to cook noodles in the room, as I’m just too worn out to walk anywhere to eat. They offer a breakfast in the morning, so I’ll stay for that even though it begins much later than I would like to leave. The room is very nice, old, yet nicely appointed with antiques in and outside the rooms. The street is just below my window, and the traffic is noisy, yet, I don’t think I will have any trouble sleeping as I’m worn down. After my nightly post and contacts home, I collapse in the bed.