The lightening flashed and the thunder boomed. There was still some space between the two, and it wasn’t raining yet, so we kept on moving. Then the wind started blowing. In the lee of the houses there was a false sense of security, but when we came to the cross-streets, the gusts carried dust, sand and leaves sideways. Its strength made handling our overloaded bikes challenging. We finally stopped when trash can lids and other debris were blowing across the street in front of us, and there was less than 5 seconds between lightening and thunder. Then the rain came.
Category: Pennslyvania
Bedford, Pennsylvania rings a bell with me, but I can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s the hometown of some sports figure or movie star or just possibly something famous happened here. So far I haven’t had the energy to Google it.
– We’re spending a quiet Sunday here because I have some, ahem, groin distress. I believe the term is chaffing. All told I’ve been in the saddle 12 days without a break, and as a result, my “tropical” area is beginning to feel the “heat.”
–
Shanksville wasn’t our destination, nor were we even planning to go by it, but on a beautiful September afternoon there it was. The sign on PA State Highway 31 said the town and the United Airlines Flight 93 memorial was four miles to our right.
It would seem, given our recent experiences, that biking flat-free from Gettysburg, PA to Hagerstown, MD on the most flawless day of our trip would be sheer bliss. Right? Wrong.
York, PA had been a nice place. Friendly natives, a clean motel, plus a convenient bike shop only three miles from our abode. And we had needed it. Poor Mike was on his third flat in as many days, and he badly needed two new tires.
“You guys really biking to California?” the bike owner asked after seeing our ID as he rung up the tires.
“Not necessarily, just as far as we can get in six weeks,” Mike responded.
“Well you won’t be having any more tire trouble.”
“That’s the way we’d like it.”
Less than a day later, halfway to Gettysburg, my phone rang.
“I just had another $#@%& flat,” Mike angrily yelled in the phone.
On Sunday we thought we we’d take it easy. We’d meander 25 miles through Lancaster County, PA, ground zero of Amish Country, along a route from Morgantown over to the city of Lancaster. Then we ran into the rain.
Before we left California, the REI guy that alerted us to the special bike shipping deal, also whispered to us, “don’t leave home without ‘Chamois Glide.'” This product which comes in a deodorant bar-sized container, advertises itself as a: ‘no mess, invisible, saddle-sore-stopper.’ Both Mike and I bought bars, shipped them off to New York with the bikes and thought no more about it. Turns out our friend’s advice was sound.
Categories
Pennsylvania
Well George Washington did it, and Thursday afternoon Mike and I did as well. We crossed the Delaware River (from New Jersey into Pennsylvania.) After biking the nasty, pothole-ridden streets of one of Trenton’s gamier neighborhoods, we were thrilled with the relative tranquility of the Keystone State. Thirty minutes after crossing the river, we were cruising the byways of Bucks County, just outside Philadelphia.
To be continued.
