Houston

Houston was good to us for giving us Sam and Linh. They hosted us for four nights, they had an awesome place, and Linh cooked incredible meals.

When we arrived, we brought strawberries for Linh and dark chocolate (brownies) for Sam since Sam had listed these as their faves in his CouchSurfing profile. We wanted to get on good terms with them early since we wanted to stay a while in Houston.

On the first day, we helped Sam build a homemade antenna. He saw a video on YouTube on how to make one out of clothes hangers and a 2′ x 4′. It was ugly – clothes hangered monolith – but it worked. It delivered great reception on broadcast channels.

Ryan and I baked brownies while Linh did real cooking. We made brownies the second night too. Sam and Linh thought we were pretty queer with our chocolate.

On Easter, we were invited to Sam’s parents for dinner. They’re Jewish, so Easter isn’t celebrated. Sam and Linh prepared us for Sam’s mom, Sharon. She would be asking us very personal questions. With all the hype, I was kind of nervous walking in.

Ryan wrote a note down on a piece of paper. Sharon saw it and told him he’s an “intense” person, and that he can’t keep a secret. She’s studied how to analyze handwriting. I wanted mine analyzed. Luckily, she offered to do a real handwriting analysis on both of us. She had us write down the same sentence, and then she ripped us both up.

Pretty much everything in the analysis was negative.  Here’s what I remember:

Eoin lies less than Ryan
Ryan has a larger circle of friends than Eoin

Ryan:
In denial
Has a lot of enthusiasm in the beginning but peters out.

Eoin:
Wants to acquire things
Sets mediocre goals

Then Sharon showed us the Macho Show. She had her two chihuahuas Macho and Mariah perform for us. Sam and Linh had warned us about this too. Sharon does the Macho show on all her guests. Small dogs dressed up in sweaters, glasses, and backpacks doing jumps and walking tall on their hind legs.

We did a tour of Houston the next day. We got lost in the Galleria (like Buckhead in Atlanta), thinking we were in downtown.

Then we had lunch at Rice University.

We had a few heavy talks about the trip. Ryan was pretty sad the day after Easter. He told me he really misses his family and Ashley. He questioned how long he could do this trip. “Six months is a long time man. I don’t know if I can do it.” Uh oh, is Ryan’s handwriting analysis really true? Is he petering out?  I didn’t care; I just wanted to acquire things ;P.

On the morning we were supposed to leave, I caught Sam before he got on a conference call, and I asked him if we could stay another day. He thought I was joking. “Are you serious?” Mmmmm yeah. It felt kind of awkward, but he was cool with us staying longer. He just thought it was funny for us to be trying to extend our stay after we were warning him about The Traveling Roses.

Ryan and I left for the day so we’d be out of their hair. I think most of our time was spent at the library updating our blog. I don’t know if you know this but it takes a really long time.

That night Linh made enchiladas which were delicious (my favorite of what she cooked) and Ryan baked a cake with strawberry frosting. Mmmm chocolate fatties are expanding to moist sugary pink desserts. Then we watched Sex and Death 101 with Winona Ryder and smug, shitty actor Simon Baker. It turned out to be one of the most pathetic movies I’ve ever seen. Lots of that precise language humor; you know said humor? And then bad sex jokes and ugly, squinty-eyed lead actor, Simon Baker, with smug curly blond locks. The movie felt like forever.

Then we left the next morning. We actually left.

The Traveling Roses

The Traveling Roses

One of our hosts in Louisiana told us about a mother and daughter team that are cycling the coastlines of North and South America. That’s ambitious! They call themselves The Traveling Roses. They came to stay with our host for a day or two, and just kept staying. Apparently they are very picky about weather conditions by biking. “Oooooh, it rained last night and it’s wet today. Biking in the wet is miserable. Let’s stay another day to let it dry up.” At about five days into their stay, they said they’d be leaving early the next morning. The next morning, they delayed. More bad weather conditions. “It’s overcast. I hate gray days. I hope there’s blue skies tomorrow.” At this point, the host couldn’t take another day of them. He drove them and their bikes 60 miles to their next destination.

But they’re not all bad. One night they offered to make their world famous spaghetti. Giving back for overstaying their welcome. They delayed. The host got anxious because it was getting late and they hadn’t even started. Their world famous spaghetti probably involves a lot of preparation. Cutting up vegetables, adding spices, making the sauce, hand-rolling the pasta. He prompted them and they got to it. They boiled pasta and added Ragu sauce. WORLD FAMOUS!

They started in New Orleans a year ago. And they just got out of Louisiana recently. They hitched rides a number of times, and then overstayed to the extreme in Gueydan, LA. The Methodist church allowed them to stay in their guest house and the Traveling Roses freeloaded for 9 months. There was probably an extended period of morning dew on the ground. You can’t bike in that!

They’ve extended the duration of their coastline trip from 4 years to 6 years after their year long pace to get out of Louisiana. Texas will probably take them 2 years. Maybe they should change their mission to be to bike the coastline of two states. That would save a lot of generous people from being abused.

Reading their website is frustrating. They’ve got ads, a list of “Sponsors,” an “Amazon Store” where you can buy the same gear they’re using, and a few places where they urge you to donate money to their cause. Here’s their sales pitch:

Many folks we’ve met have asked how they could help us, so in late autumn of 2007 we wrote a fundraising letter telling our story, liberally lacing it with movie quotes. Our idea was to ask for a $30 minimum donation and to give away a t-shirt to each person who could identify all the movie quotes hidden in the letter. When we realized how time and cost intensive it would be, we scratched the t-shirt idea, but we still really loved the movie letter.
So, since we know most of you probably have too many t-shirts anyway, we’re going straight to the heart of the matter – and asking for your donation of $30, $50 or more! We hope you enjoy our letter, and we hope it inspires you to click on the button below to help us out by sending us a donation of any amount. Let us know if you can identify any of the movie quotes!

So they’re not giving t-shirts to people who donate? Why make an empty reference? They want everyone to know that they intended to give send t-shirts for donations, but they have no follow through, and are good for nothing. A tease. Empty and parasitic. And a $30 minimum?! That’s asking a lot for supporting a pipe dream.

Ryan and I developed a seething hatred for The Traveling Roses. The mission, “cycling to celebrate life,” seems more like “mooching and lying to take advantage of generous people.” Ryan and I adopted a temporary mission: to warn our hosts about the mother-daughter deadbeat combo coming through

Hitching out of San Antonio

Leaving San Antonio

I got up early to head out of San Antonio. As I was pedaling on the loop road around San Antonio, a car pulled up next to me, keeping my speed. The girl in the passenger seat said, “Where are you going?” Then she kept asking questions. She and her boyfriend said I was inspiring. They were pumped for me. I told them that this was a first for me, having a car keep my pace to have a conversation while I cycled.

A few serious road cyclists passed me, easily. It seemed to be a popular route. Shitty though. Frontage road to an interstate.

I got stopped at a train crossing. It took about 30-40 minutes. Luckily, a cyclist was stopped there with me, so we talked. He asked about my trip, and said, “Damn, I wish I had done something like that when I was younger. I can’t do that now.” He was talking about his job and responsibilities to his wife and kids. It’s a good reminder of why I’m doing this at all.

I turned onto the I-10 frontage road on the way to El Paso about 500 miles away. I needed a ride. No way was I going to bike through the desert, and I was trying to get out towards Ryan quickly. He was in Colorado.

I made it to a gas station with a McDonalds. Everyone I asked was local, or on their way to San Antonio. This wasn’t a good spot.

Hitch to Kerrville

I rode over to the neighboring Valero gas station and pulled up to a Suburban. A young guy and his girlfriend were filling up. I asked them if they were going to El Paso. They weren’t but the guy offered to give me a ride to Kerrville, about 20 miles away. It was hard to know what to do. I could get stranded out in Kerrville if there’s nothing around, and where I am now, I could still go back to San Antonio and have a place to stay if I couldn’t find a ride to El Paso. But I felt I couldn’t give up an offer for a ride, so I took it.

I knew they were young, but I had know idea Peter was just out of high school, and Alex was going to be going into her senior year. Teenagers. They were really cool though and interested in my trip. I warned them about the quarter-life crisis. “Just look out and be ready for it when you turn 25.” I told them about the path I was on through school and into college, and then spit out to the working world, and then things weren’t so clear. The work path was way more boring, and I didn’t want to get stuck.

Asking for a Ride at a Gas Station

They dropped me at a pretty active gas station, but it was on the wrong side of the road, the road that would be going East to San Antonio. I was greeted by a motorcycle guy who was with his group. He asked me about my trip. “How far do you usually go each day?” “About 60 miles.” “Oh really? Is that all? I thought you could get further.” Dude, maybe you should try it. Riding up hills involves a lot more than just a turn of your wrist.

Once again, my target was guys in trucks. When I saw one pull up, I would act casually over by my bike outside the store, giving him a few minutes to get out and start the pump. Then, when I was sure he wasn’t still trying to get the pump to accept his debit card, I’d walk over confidently and ask, “Excuse me. Do you happen to be going West towards El Paso?” In asking it, I’d be as harmless as possible, not pushy. Just a nice guy. I would usually get friendly responses, but most were heading East.

I got one guy who was traveling alone with an empty truck to admit that he was going to El Paso. Then I asked, “Would you be able to give me a ride? I’m a cyclist from Atlanta, and I’m just trying to avoid riding through the desert.” He looked a little shocked, then hung his head, and begged me forgiveness. “Sorry, I can’t. I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry. I wish I could. I’m sorry.” He was really sorry. I guess he was really worried what might happen. He probably thought he’d end up dead.

A truck pulled in towing a loaded trailer. The bed of the truck was carrying a four-wheeler, and the trailer was carrying all sorts of gear. I gave it a shot. I figured there’d be room somewhere for my bike. I asked nicely and confidently. The guy was going to El Paso!! But, “I don’t like ridin’ with people.” Old gruff guy with a straight, heartless answer. It was probably better he didn’t give me a ride.

One guy I had asked, who was going East, hung around my hang out area by the store for a while. He was a friendly smart ass. All he offered was “Get pedalin’ man. You got a damn bike.”

Two Latino women saw me waiting out there for a while. I wasn’t going to ask them because they were women — I didn’t want to spook them — and they were in a car. But one of them was curious and sympathetic. I told her I was trying to get to El Paso. “Ooooh, we just came from there. Oh, I’m sorry. I wish we could help.” She asked if I needed anything from the store, like a drink. She really wanted to help me. I could tell from her face. Full of concern.  It was a nice interaction.

Then I saw my ticket out of there. A truck with an empty bed came in pulling a trailer. Four young guys stepped out. I’m pretty sure they were a metal band on tour. This was hopeful. I figured I could bro around with them and get a ride. Plus, typically, these scary-looking metal, or punk, guys are really nice, gentle people. I asked the driver as he walked towards the store. He said they were going to El Paso. Then I asked for a ride. “No dude. Not enough space.” Dammit. I guess with four guys in the truck, it might be a tight squeeze.

But then I noticed that there was a girl who was with them, traveling alone in her empty Ford Focus. Throw my bike in the empty bed of the truck, and I’ll ride with the groupie girl and keep her company. Missed opportunity. Perfect situation. But I made the mistake.

I shouldn’t have let one person make the decision. I should have found the opportunity to ask the whole group, since I’m sure one of them would have had compassion and guilted the less compassionate ones into giving me a ride. Plus, the group might see it as more of an adventure. The one guy probably didn’t want the burden of making the decision to take in a stranger and have it go wrong. Lesson learned.

Get Pedalin’ Man!

After an hour and a half of waiting at the gas station, the “Get pedalin’ man!” comment got to me. Someone told me there was a rest area in 10 miles. I figured that could be a better place to ask for a ride. I got on my bike and rode on the I-10 shoulder.

Really hot. Nothing around.

I was a long way from the nearest big town, and about 8 days riding from El Paso. Fuck this.

I approached a “picnic area.” This was the rest area I heard about, but one important thing was missing: facilities. No facilities, no people. Why would they stop? And I was running out of water. Busted idea.

There was a small truck parked outside one of the picnic areas. The hood was open, overheated engine. There was a stack of about 10 mattresses strapped down in the back of the truck. The Mexican couple who owned the truck were taking a break at the table. I asked them if they had any water. The guy pointed to the roof of his truck, case of water bottles, and told me to help myself. I took one. Then later, after I retreated, and looked down on my luck, he urged me to take more. I took one more. Gracias!

I had found a piece of board on the side of the road. Desperate situation, desperate measures. Just desperate. I needed to find a ride, but I also needed to help myself get to the next town. So I made a “I Need A Ride” sign using my electrical tape (which I found on the side of the road back in Louisiana), and strapped it underneath the cargo net on my rear rack.

I was speaking to the Mexican couple when an older white lady pulled up in her Suburban. She was traveling alone and stopping to give her dog a walk. I told the couple that I would ask her for a ride, but I that I have a strong feeling she’d be spooked. They said I should give it a shot.

As I approached her, she turned away from me. Then within speaking distance, I started saying, “Excuse me … excuse me.” She didn’t turn around. Then, louder, “Ma’am?” Finally she turned, and I rattled off my story. “… I was just wondering if you could give me a ri..” “No.” Blunt. Bam. Spooked. “Okay, thank you.” I turned around and retreated. I freaked her out.

A few semi-trucks pulled in. I asked the drivers. They all said, “Man, I wish I could, but this is a company truck, and it would be a liability issue.”

I rode off. I was hoping my “I Need A Ride” sign would work. No one stopped or honked or anything. I figured it was probably too small. I was racing the sun, trying to get to Segovia with enough time to eat and then head out to find a camping site on the side of the road. It was 6:30 pm, and I still had 10 miles to go.

The Sign Worked

Then I saw two guys pulled over at the off ramp, waving me over. Shit, my sign worked! I had given up hope since I’d been riding with it for about two and a half hours. They said they could take me to El Paso, no problem. As we were loading the bike in the back, Rod asked, “You don’t have any guns or knives on you, right?”

Rod and Nate are brothers. They were driving back to Phoenix from a week-long vacation in Clearwater, FL. My hometown. Apparently, Rod saw my sign, and thought, “I would want someone to give me a ride if I was biking out here.” He asked Nate, and Nate said, “I don’t want some freak to be sitting behind me.” I guess he thought I might strangle him or something.

We were all put at ease pretty quickly as a lot of information was exchanged. I got to hear their story, and they heard mine. They were all about talking “dude,” and “bro,” and stuff being “tight.” I got a good sense that they were really decent guys. I mean, they took a chance and stopped for me.

I told them about CouchSurfing and they both dug it big time. They liked the idea of knowing a local in the area where you’re traveling, free accommodation, and building karma. They both got amped up on the “pay it forward” idea.

We stopped in Vanhorn, TX for the night. They got a motel room, and said I could stay. I told them I didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, so I ducked down in the truck as they went to check-in.  Freebie.

We went to eat at Wendy’s. I bought them dinner off the value menu. A value gesture for their incredible generosity.

My luck had changed. It went from running out of water and looking for a good spot on the side of I-10 to being on a road trip with friends and sleeping in a motel room. I slept in the space between their beds. It was great.

Flow like Water to Phoenix

The next morning we headed out early. They were both saying how they were going to be sad to see me go. I wasn’t looking forward to it either. They would drop me off in Las Cruces, NM, where I could then find a ride up to Albuquerque. I would have a pretty good chance of finding a ride because Albuquerque is the next big town North on I-25.

Rod went a few miles off their track up I-25 to find a good gas station to drop me off. They wanted to solicit potential rides for me. They figured that if they vouched for me to some stranger, I would have a better chance.

We didn’t find much, but we saw a Sam’s Club so we stopped to eat. $2 pizza and drink combo. I treated them again. Another value gesture.

As we were leaving, I said “Damn, I wish I needed to get to Phoenix.” They agreed. Plus they had been saying that if I ever came through Phoenix, I should call them up and I’d have a place to stay. I started thinking. Maybe it would be a pretty cool jumping off point. I could ride through the Four Corners. Go to Grand Canyon. The main thing was that I didn’t really feel like trying to hitch a ride. I was with two cool guys. I wanted to flow like water.

So as we made it back to the truck where we would be parting ways, I asked if I could join them all the way to Phoenix. They were happy about it. Rod said I could stay with him no problem. Last minute change of plans. I was pumped about it.

San Antonio

Crossing the Border

We got into Nuevo Laredo at 8:00 am. I changed and put together my bike. Then I took off towards the border.

It was great passing all the cars that were lined up. I was ushered through the pedestrian area. I saw people filing through the turnstiles and having to pay $0.30. The Mexican cop let me through the handicapped gate with my bike. No payment. Gracias amigo!

I stopped to take a photo. I lingered too long. The cop came after me and requested that 30 cents. What I thought was Mexican hospitality was only a mistake. This photo cost me.

On the US side, the border guard was suspicious. What are you carrying in those bags? Why were you in Mexico? Harmless touring cyclist loading up his panniers with drugs.

I’m back in the US! Now I could speak English and expect to be understood. The first guy I asked for directions didn’t speak English.

A Sour Return

I changed my pesos into dollars and then went to Wendy’s to get a wireless connection. Yes, Wendy’s!! I was pumped about these familiar places. I got online and saw Ryan on g-chat. I was pumped.

me: hey i’m in laredo
Ryan: sup dude
me: back in US
Ryan: oh damn
me: oh shit
Ryan: nice
me: where are you?
Ryan: colorado
me: ah well slow down
i’m getting to albuquerque on tues night i believe
Ryan: ohhh. i guess you’re cycling from albuquerque?
me: cycling and hitching maybe
Ryan: hey i was going to ask: do you enjoy touring alone?
me: i only did it for like a day but yeah it was cool
me: why
Ryan: well like you said, i guess there are no compromises you know
i can go at my own pace. stop to see stuff. and change goals whenever
me: are you trying to say you don’t want me back?
Ryan: hah no. i’m saying would you enjoy going it solo more?

Then I wasn’t pumped. I was expecting a warm welcome back. Maybe some air guitar. I got a cold shoulder. What’s wrong with my road dog? I tried to imagine it if our roles were reversed. If he had come down to Mexico to meet me, I would be pumped. You can easily arrange to solo travel; it’s up to you. Traveling with a close friend is harder to arrange. First of all, there aren’t many “close friends.” Then, getting schedules and plans to work out is really difficult. I was trying to make the stars align, but Ryan didn’t seem to care. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t understand it.

Ryan and I talked on the phone, and tried to work it out. His reaction gave me added regrets for coming back. By the end of the conversation, we exchanged I love you’s, and stirred up some enthusiasm for the reunion. It didn’t feel right though. I didn’t expect to have to work for that.

Hitching a Ride

I headed out of Laredo. I tried hitching a ride at an on-ramp to I-35. Nobody stopped.

I got to a gas station and asked guys in trucks if they were going to San Antonio. The first truck I spotted had a bike in the back. I got hopeful, a fellow cyclist. The guy was going to San Antonio, but he couldn’t do it because “he had company with him.” That’s okay.

I went into Subway to eat, and I saw him again. He was eating with his wife. After I finished, I went outside and saw his wife take off in a Suburban, and he followed in his truck. Are you serious dude!?! He’s got company?! They were traveling alone, together. With lots of space. A damn truck and Suburban.

I kept asking, zoning in on guys with trucks. Ladies would be spooked. A couple of young guys came out of their truck. This was promising. I asked but they weren’t going to San Antonio. However, they offered to take me up the road a little bit, to a tourist center. They said the tourist center would be a great place to ask. Lots of people would be stopping there on their way to San Antonio.

The tourist center sucked. Pretty barren. The lady inside gave me a bunch of brochures of San Antonio, but I didn’t want that. I needed a damn ride.

I left the tourist center. I biked up the road, on the interstate. I wanted to get to the next gas station to hitch a ride. On the way, as I was biking, I stuck out my thumb. Maybe I could hitch a ride from my bike. Cycling hitchhiker didn’t work.

Up ahead, all the cars were being funneled through an inspection station. I didn’t feel this concerned me, and I had some great momentum, so I hauled ass at 20 mph towards a closed lane to bypass the wait. As I was going through, the border guards yelled out, “whoa whoa whoa.” So I stopped. Damn, that pissed them off. I told them I didn’t think I needed to stop. “What do you think we’re doing here?!” They told me to step away from the bike, and they had the dog sniff my bags. I was clean. I got out of there quick.

I made it to Encinal, TX. Really small town with nothing. But it had a big, active gas station. I started asking. Lots of rejections. Then a couple of Mexican guys came by. They were going to San Antonio. The guy said it was okay with him, but he’d have to ask his buddy. He went into the store. I stood outside, waiting and hoping. Not many options. He came out a few minutes later, “You ready? You want to throw your bike in the back?” Hell yeah dude.

Abel and Juan. I shook their hands, “Mucho gusto.” They rearranged the bed of their truck and helped me load it in there. They were from El Paso, but were doing construction down in Laredo. They were heading to San Antonio to catch a flight to El Paso. Apparently, they were up late the night before, partying until 3 am. Juan, who didn’t speak English, got some “good pussy.” When I told them I got a degree in engineering, they were all, “Ooooh, an engineer,” and “I’m not too good with math. I’m good and lifting stuff.” Abel was joking around about it, but it seemed like he wasn’t proud of his education. He told me he never went to high school; he stopped in the equivalent of 8th grade.

My host worked at the airport, and lived pretty close by, so it was lucky that Abel and Juan were going there. When we got to the airport, they only had about 30 minutes before their plane left. They helped me get my bike out of the truck, and I got a quick photo before they dashed for the terminal.

I biked over to Carey’s place. Once again, biking in a big city during Friday rush hour. This time, San Antonio.

Carey and Carrie

I met Carey and his (just-recently-engaged) fiance, Carrie. Carey and Carrie. They seemed a little weirded out at first. I found out it was their first hosting experience  through CouchSurfing. “You’re not going to kill us or anything, right?” hahhaha. “You didn’t bring the swine flu with you, right?” hahahh. That kind of stuff isn’t cool. I understand it, but it puts me on edge. But they warmed up. Later on in my stay with them though, Carey told me he sent his family information on me “… just in case.” That’s something I didn’t need to know. It makes me feel distant.  Like a piece of shit.

Carey and Carrie both work for Southwest airlines. Carey was on disability for a back injury.  He’s a baggage handler. He was home for about a month, watching TV and walking the dog.

Carey had made spaghetti and offered me some. Great. I ran out to the store to pick up some brownies. Treat them to dessert.  It’s tradition at this point.

There were a bunch of brownies left over, probably half the tray. I started getting ready for bed. A while later, after Carrie had already gone to sleep, I came out as Carey was carrying over a chunk of about 4 brownies in his hand. He’s a guy who prides himself on how much he eats. “I’m a big guy. I eat a lot.” Maybe his baggage handler friends like to talk about how much they eat. I didn’t really mind him eating the brownies.

What was weird though was that the next day, all the brownies were gone. I couldn’t find them anywhere. Dude, I made those, and it would be cool if you had left some for me. Give me the opportunity to have some more of the brownies I made. Oh and by the way, I had to buy the vegetable oil *and* eggs. Typically, our hosts would have that stuff, and Ryan and I would be able to use a 1/4 cup of oil and 1 egg . I had more invested in this batch. And now it was all gone. Damn.

Then, later in the day, when Carrie came home, she complained about Carey taking all the spaghetti. She was hungry. He laughed and made some comment about how much he likes to eat.  Then he got defensive, and tried to show his good side, “Well, why do you think I saved you two brownies?” Generous guy.  What the hell? I didn’t see any brownies. He saved the last two for Carrie.  Hid them from me.  He didn’t consider that I might want some. Selfish as shit. Inconsiderate.

Those were just some of the weird things I noticed. They were both pretty cool though. I had a good time with them. And, they had a bed for me in their guest room.

Remember the Alamo?

I went downtown to see San Antonio. Sweaty as shit. And I had to bike 15 miles. I wore my jeans and Apocalypse Briggs shirt. That shirt is disgusting. It gets all loose, and bells out at the bottom. I rolled up my jeans to get some air circulating. They were all loose, sweat-logged. Dirty, sweaty, loose, ill-fitting t-shirt with rolled-up, sweaty, loose-around-the-knee jeans and biking shoes. Damn, I was ugly. I was embarrassed how ugly I was. I hate that shirt the most. It sucks at keeping its structure. It just becomes a wet rag.

I found the Alamo. Big tourist attraction. Lots of people were out for the day, remembering the Alamo. I wanted a photo, but I couldn’t set up a self-timed shot; it would have been weird among all those people. I saw three cute Asian girls. They were taking photos of each other, giving peace signs. I asked one of them if she could take a photo of me. I thought it would be cool to get a photo with two of them, all of us giving peace signs, but when the time came, I was a flaccid penis. I didn’t have the courage. I looked like shit. They were from Vietnam. I gave a peace sign. Alone.

I read some stuff on the Alamo. And saw some relics. Pretty boring, really. It was cool to think that the battle happened right there though. We still remember you, Alamo.  Even though you’re really boring, we still remember.

I rode around some more. Downtown San Antonio is really clean and well set-up for tourists. I spent about an hour in the tourist office because I mentioned I might want to take a bus back up to Carey’s. The ladies in there gathered pamphlets, looked online for info, and made phone calls all on account of me having a whim, and then later, not pursuing it. My stupid idea wasted their time and mine. They were too helpful.

I went to the Riverwalk. The famous San Antonio Riverwalk. It sounded beautiful. A natural wonder. I found it, a man-made canal with walkways surrounded by fake boulders. I took a moment, awe-struck by the man-made beauty.

Then I saw some Mission churches. Something else San Antonio is known for. Not much to say about it though.

At one point, as I rode back on my bike, a Jeep overtook me, and the driver yelled out, hurriedly, “You know the speed limit. It says share the road.” It happened so quickly that I was lucky to even realize he was saying something to me. And I don’t know what he meant, or if I even heard it right. What I imagine is that this guy was driving behind me for a little bit, thought of something clever to say, and was so nervously excited about delivering it that he totally screwed it up. Horrible execution. The pace of it was nervous and weak. And I was left confused.

I saw a Cici’s pizza, so I stopped and got a buffet for $4.99. I loaded up and left with a big ball of dough and cheese in my gut. Not really “satisfying.”

Partying with Carey and Carrie

Carey and Carrie were interested in going out. Carrie had done a home pregnancy test, and it looked like it was positive. She had been told through Ouija board that she’d be having twins. We went out to celebrate.

Carey was pumping out the “I’m a typical guy” jokes. Top of his game. And he was quick to tailor it to the pregnancy. “Since you’re pregnant, if you don’t want to gain a lot of that weird weight, just let me know what your cravings are, and I’ll eat them for you.” hahhahaha. Then at the bar, after bemoaning how this would be her last beer, Carey joked, “Hey, I’ll drink for you.” Big guys love to eat and drink. And sleep too, I bet. Big guys are cool!! Their jokes are great, and big.

As we left the bar, Carey and Carrie became fascinated by a car in the parking lot.  “That car is beautiful.  Man, if I had the money, I would buy that car in a heartbeat.”  They both agreed.  They loved that car.  Slow down guys, you’re getting married and might be having twins.

Lubbock, TX to Albuquerque, NM

good bye west texas

Today was going to be a good day.  I was going to see all the boring terrain through a car window.  West Texas had defeated my spirits, and I hoped to be renewed by the geography of New Mexico.  I was happy to cheat a little.

Bryon and I said goodbye to Daniel.  We looked into his eyes and saw an amazing boy.  Charming.  Julie, the fiance of Victor (Daniel’s roomate), jumped in on the final goodbye shot.

Bryon and I passed some pretty crappy scenery, but we had some good conversation.  Bryon had followed a path that had been pushed on him by society.  Get good education.  Get good job.  Get wife.  Get nice house.  Work work work.  Three years ago, he divorced his wife and started traveling more.  He told me of his travels such as climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.  Damn.  He’s a chemical engineer that now runs his own company.  Consulting.  I don’t know what he consults or to whom, but consult he does.  He was traveling cross-country to scope out Fort Collins, CO because he is planning on moving there, away from South Carolina.  I figured he was mid-20’s.  He’s 35.  Damn…young spirit. 

The most interesting thing we saw during our drive through West Texas was a place that sold cherry cider.  Yummmm. 

coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee

I knew coffee addicts were out there, but holy shit…Bryon had to have coffee all the time.  He stopped every hour or so to find coffee.  Was his addiction really that bad?  Yes.  When he couldn’t get coffee, he whipped out his chocolate covered coffee beans.  If that failed, he had a brewer in his car that he can also take in his backpack. 

I skipped out the first few times, but then I started getting regular house coffee.  I’ve never really drank coffee that much, but after being offered the drink by nearly all my hosts, it’s really grown on me.

albuquerque

We finally got to the city of Albuquerque, where we’d be staying with our couchsurfing host Brian.  Brian, Bryon, and Ryan, the three happy cyclists with facial hair.  Bryon and I drove around the city a little bit, and I was very impressed by what I saw.  I expected Albuquerque to be a banking center out in the middle of desert.  Wrong.  It was a very cyclist-friendly town with lots of parks.  A lot of the buildings were designed in the southwest stucco fashion, and there were American Indian designs on all of the highway structures.  We even saw bike cops doing their ridiculous training in a park.  “This is how you apply the brakes.  Be sure to get good clearance off the ground.”  What does that mean?

beer, skin lotion, and silence

Brian met us at his house after he got off from work.  He cooked us a nice meal, and Bryon went to pick up some beer from a local brewery.  We were enjoying good food and drinks when I found out the folks in Springer, NM wouldn’t be able to host me.  Shit.  I have to figure out what I’m going to do for the next few days.  I needed internet to assist me.

I saw that Brian had a laptop by the sofa.  I also saw that there was a bottle of skin lotion next to it.  Damn, Brian.  At least take that to your room.  I felt weird asking him if I could use his laptop, hoping he wouldn’t notice I noticed the bottle of skin lotion next to it.  “You know I know Brian…I know you do.” 

The first beer hit me hard.  Brian, a pretty small guy, got a couple beers into his system before we headed off to a bonfire gathering.  It wasn’t much of a gathering.  Two of Brian’s friends were hanging out in the backyard about to make a fire.  Brian was hammered after another beer.  He was swaying in his seat.  Bryon and I were eventually falling asleep sitting in our chairs.  Conversation often fell to silence, which eventually became very awkward.  The frequency increased as time went on.  I didn’t speak up because I found it amusing.  Who was going to speak up, and what will you talk about?  I’ve come to revel the awkward moments because they always seem to happen to me.  What else could I do?  I guess my face could turn red.

“Well, are you guys ready?”  I did it.  I just went full-force.  No playing around.  I didn’t even do the checking of the phone clock.  Or the stretching and yawning.

During the walk home, Brian said he’d fix us breakfast before we took off.  I knew it wasn’t going to happen.  Brian was destroyed.  He won’t be getting up except to vomit.  I just had two beers because I knew I had to cycle the next day.  He took his laptop to his room before we crashed in his living room.  He forgot the skin lotion.  Ouchies.

Lubbock, TX

hi i’m a medical student. yep.

Daniel, my couch surfing host in Lubbock, was a medical student.  He was going to be pretty busy that weekend hosting prospective medical school students.  That weekend, their school was trying to show the prospective students that Texas Tech medical school is amazing and super fun fun.  Daniel was hosting two new students, who happened to be super lame lame.

I went with Daniel to dinner and drinks hosted by the medical school program.  The school catered spaghetti and salad for all the prospective students.  Free food.  Yum.  During dinner, I was pretending I was a medical student.  People bought it, and I loved it.  I was full of shit.  I joked about molecules and enzymes, but they never picked up on it.  All book smarts with zero wit.

Later that night, we went to a pretty badass house party.  Two kegs of Shiner beer.  Texas Tech happened to be in a dry county.  To get packaged beer or liquor is evidently a huge pain in the ass here.  Big issue/argument between students and residents.  Two of the students that were being hosted by Daniel went with us.  James and an Indian girl.  I asked her what her name was three times.  I still can’t remember it.  That’s how it was with all the Indian students I met.  I kept forgetting their names.  James and the Indian girl stood in the corner and texted on their phones.  It was embarrassing.  I quickly left their company.  They sucked bad.  Real bad.  They were like a lot of the new medical students that had been at the bar we had just left.  Daniel ended up banishing them from the party.  He gave them his car keys, and they drove back to his place.  Good riddance.  And James had a nervous laugh.  A nervous drunk laugh all the time.  Bye James.

My story was a huge hit at the house party.  People ate it up.  I shared a bunch of the stories I had accumulated during the past month.  The stories were keeping five+ people entertained at one time.  They weren’t zoning out.  Damn.  Pretty good for a bunch of drunk people.  And they were all hipsters.  None of them were pretentious.  Surprising.  They were all very supportive of this trip.

el salvadorean food

I spent a good deal of my time with Daniel and his medical school friends, Meredith, Tiffany, and Kim.  We all went to an El Salvadorean restaurant outside of the Lubbock city limits.  Badass food.  The owner commented on Tiffany’s breasts.  She just smiled and nodded.  She had no clue.  The owner kept patting me on the shoulder.  Very touch feely.  I guess that’s the El Salvadorean way.  He always gave me a subtle massage when touching my shoulder too. 

Later that night, Daniel and I rode around Texas Tech campus on bikes.  Very Greek place.  It reminded me of Tuscaloosa.

I had mentioned to Daniel that he should take a ride out with me for the day and head back to Lubbock the next day.  A nice two day tour for him.  He was serious about going with me for a 50+ mile day ride, but he found out his uncle had a 30% chance of survival from cancer.  He had just gone to the ER.  It was pretty bad.  Damn.  It was tough to see him upset about it.

The brownies had just finished baking.  We added brownies to ice cream.  I think they cheered him up a bit.  A lot of bit maybe.

winery. drunk.

On Sunday, Daniel, Meredith, Tiffany, and I decided to check out the Lubbock winery.  I don’t know shit about wine, but I can sure drink it.  The guy that worked there, Zack, kept giving us very generous portions, and we kept drinking and drinking.

An older couple came in.  Wine snobs.  “This smells great, but it doesn’t taste good.”  Ugh.  Stupid.  Just drink it and shut the hell up.  I could tell Zack was annoyed.  “This has an oaky taste.  How long have your grapes been fermenting?  I wouldn’t drink that one!  Blah blah blah blah.”  Bullshit!  You don’t know anything!  Give your samples to me and leave this place.  Now.

I bought a bottle of white wine called Blush.  It was sweet like candy, and I like sweets.  The wine snobs made fun of me when I got the bottle from Zack.  “Oh, look at you with your pink stuff!  You must like your wine sweet, huh?”  I told them I was a really sweet guy and that it was fitting.  The joke was a sensation, and they all laughed it up at my expense.  I cried.

We all ended up buying pretty cheap wine.  We were all pretty drunk, but Tiffany was blasted.  She got back to Daniel’s place and just lied down on the sofa.  Dead.

frank lee anne and hell in keller

Bryon, Daniel’s next couch surfer, was coming in just as we were finishing up at the winery.  He was driving around the country visiting a bunch of places. His facial hair put me to shame. 

Daniel made us all a nice pasta dinner.  Afterward, Daniel, Meredith, Bryon and I took off to see two one act plays:  Frank Lee Anne and Hell in Keller.  Frank Lee Anne was about a chubby gay guy who shuts himself into a room and doesn’t want to go outside.  He’s afraid he’ll get shot by a hunter.  Pretty good idea but it wasn’t well written.  I couldn’t wait for it to be over.  In Hell in Keller, Helen Keller, a blind deaf girl, is exploited by her boyfriend in vaudeville acts.  I laughed a few times, but all in all, it was pretty amateur.  Lots of Helen Keller jokes.  There goes $8.  Whatever.

After the play, Bryon started talking to me about my route.  He asked me if I wanted a ride to the Santa Fe area.  He was headed to Albuquerque the next day.  Shit yea.  Bypass the boring geography of West Texas and eastern New Mexico.  Damn.  Things kept falling into place.

Daniel had decided he wanted to ride out with me for a day.  Fuck.  I felt terrible.  He was really looking forward to it.  I hope he understood how much I did not want to cycle 300+ miles of New Mexico to get to Santa Fe.

Abilene, TX to Lubbock, TX

ride to sweetwater

I woke up dreading the ride.  I knew it was going to be in the wind.  What I didn’t know was how bad the wind was going to be that day.  Jason’s landlord happened to be cutting grass and asked me why the hell I was doing this trip.  I don’t really have a straight answer for that yet.  “Because I want to” is the best thing I’ve come up with.  He didn’t really understand.  He said, “Don’t you worry about bad things happening?”  I told him the one thing I’ve learned from this trip is to trust people and good things happen.  People are good.  He still didn’t understand.

I said goodbye to Jason and headed off into the wind.  I could tell it was not going to be an enjoyable ride.  The wind that day was 20+ mph, but my legs were well-rested.  Much of the day was spent on the frontage road next to I-20, which had absolutely no traffic.

The frontage road branched off from I-20 for about 10 miles.  I went with it.  Little did I know was that it took me on gravel and dirt roads, but I was getting 15 mph on these dirt roads.  I was at a diagonal to the wind, instead of experiencing a full headwind.  Desolute remote scenery.  Nothing.  I enjoyed it until my water supplies starting getting low.  When it did, I cut back over to I-20.

I got to the town of Sweetwater.  The sign said wind capital of Texas.  Damn.  I believed it.  The horizon was littered with wind generators.  I don’t know why they called it Sweetwater.  All the creeks and rivers were dry.  I pulled into a Wendy’s and ordered off the dollar menu.  I was fantasizing about someone pulling in and offering me a ride to Lubbock.

lucky lucky lucky

A guy walked into Wendy’s with a polo and khakis.  I jokingly thought to myself that he would offer me a ride.  Yeah right.  The next thing I know:

“Where are you headed?”, the guy said.

I told him.  He then asked, “You probably wouldn’t want a ride, would you?”  I asked him if he was headed to Lubbock, and he was.  YES.  God yes.  I didn’t want to ride in this shit anymore.  I was very excited to get a ride.

The ride between Sweetwater and Lubbock was a bunch of nothingness.  Oil derricks and cotton fields.  I was very happy Clark gave me a ride.  He was a fellow cyclist, which was the reason he felt inclined to talk to me.  I got very, very lucky.  The scenery during the car ride was boring.  I can’t imagine cycling this.  Terrible.  Nothing but structures of competing forms of energy: oil derricks and wind mills.

“Don’t take a fucking picture of me, or I’ll break your fucking camera” (welcome to lubbock) – homeless man

Lubbock is very flat and home to Texas Tech.  Clark dropped me off at the library.  I couldn’t express how grateful I was for the ride.  Man.  He saved my ass from hating cycling.  From hating me.

A few homeless people stopped me on the way into the library.  They liked my bike, and they asked me for some food.  I gave them some crackers and peanut butter.  Shitty food…but it was the least I could do.  Pay some karma debt back.   The homeless people kept telling me I should come to the dinner provided by the church at 7 PM.  They wanted me there.  They thought I was one of them. 

I was taking a few pictures of the homeless folks, and a tall homeless guy walked by.  What I heard scared the shit out of me.  “Don’t take a fucking picture of me, or I’ll break your fucking camera.”  I didn’t know whether to laugh or run away.  I laughed nervously and walked up to him.  “Oh, oh no.  I’m taking a picture of the library.  I’m not from here.”  I instantly turned into a daisy.  Nervous and bumbling scared guy trying to explain himself to a giant homeless man.  And this guy was huge.  8 ft tall.  I took a picture of his back, hoping he would not turn around.

I think I’ll pass on the church provided dinner.  The guy looked a lot like the giant from Happy Gilmore who had the nail stuck in his head.  We all know what he did to the cheating golf legend Shooter.  I headed off to Daniel’s place.

Brownwood, TX to Abilene, TX

early start

I woke up to the sounds of birds and bugs at 7 AM.  I turned on my weather radio.  The forecast called for SW winds at 15-20 mph.  Not so good.  My route would take me mostly W NW.  Highs today would be in the low to mid 90s.  That got my ass up real quick.

I skipped out on making oatmeal on my stove and went to McDonald’s.  I had been craving sausage biscuits.  At McDonald’s, I re-did my route to make it mostly NW, and I took off.

The early segment of the trip was done with the wind partially at my back.  In two hours, I had done 33 miles.  It brought me to a small town called Crossing Plains.  The heat was already blistering.  I sat down in a farmer’s market and ate some fruit.

west texas and my brush with heat exhaustion

I filled all my water containers up and prepared for the long ride into the wind.  The wind direction had turned into a west wind, and I was headed west.  It was going to be a long day.  Abilene was 44 miles away, and the sun was already beginning to beat down on me.

The ride began well.  I had energy from the fruit and my water was cold.  I took this picture around that time.  I had energy.

20 minutes later, my water was hot.  The heat nearly makes the water boil in my water bottles, so the water has no ability to cool you off.  Drinking it is terrible.  But at least it’s wet.

The ride got worse.  It was remote, hilly, windy, and hot.  I was rationing my water out for every 5 miles.  I was stopping to rest every 3 miles.  There are no tall trees in west Texas that you can rest under.  They’re all short and provide little to no shade, and fire ants are all over the ground, making it impossible to sit down for a few minutes.

I was hating this ride.  The sun was beating down on me.  My water was now out.  The wind was in my face.  I couldn’t stop at houses to ask for refills.  There were no houses.  I had 25 miles to go until the highway bent north and I’d have some wind advantage.  That was the only thing to look forward to, but I was questioning whether I’d make it.

I had begun to feel dizzy and nauseous.  My mouth was dry to the point that my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth.  My lips were cracking and dry.  And my face was salty.  I was considering hitching a ride to Abilene.  My spirits were broken, but then a cloud covered the sun.  Yes, some shade.  I could see where the cloud’s shade ended.  A mile up the road, the shade stopped at a white building.  I got closer to the white building, which said “General Store”.  Yes…water!

I went in and asked the gentleman there.  He was closing shop, and the water was turned off.  He pointed me down the street to a few houses.  I made my way down the street and saw a church with a water spigot.  This made me very, very happy.

It was about 4 PM.  I wanted to sit down for an hour and wait out the hottest portion of the day.  It was still hot as hell in the shade, but at least I had cool water.  I just sat there.  I ate a few bagels with lots of margarine.

I got back on my bike.  I didn’t want to.  I had 30 miles to go to Abilene.  In 3 miles, the highway bent north, and I had the wind partially at my back.  I didn’t stop until I got to Abilene.

arrival in abilene

Abilene was flat and hot.  Nothing was around.  No tall buildings on the horizon and no significant geography.  I cycled up to Jason’s place, a house right next to Hardin Simmons.  This was the private Baptist university Jason attended.  There were a few other private Christian schools in the area.  I had looked on my GPS and saw that Abilene was FULL of churches.

Jared, Jason’s roommate, was in the backyard kicking a soccer ball around.  I felt like I could talk to him about something.  I tried.  Failure.  I felt like he was lonely, kicking the soccer ball in hot Abilene against a wooden fence.  I wanted to bicycle kick with him, but my legs were shot.  He let me inside.

Jared gave me some water and a plastic cup to drink with.  I turned around to look at the sink.  Every dish was on the counter, ready to be washed.  They were crying out, “Wash me!  Wash me!”  Jared and Jason had denied them their right to be clean, and they were simply using plastic cups instead of washing the glasses.  I figured one of two things:  1) They were moving out in May so they didn’t give a shit or 2) They were in a big fight and having a cleaning stand-off.  “I can go longer than you without clean dishes.  I’ll show you!”  I remembered having roommates, and petty stuff like that happened all the time.  I figured this was no different.  Maybe I had walked into a war zone.  My mind began to think of all the craziness that might happen.  Fist fights.  Cleaning showdowns.  Exciting!

Jason got home from rehearsals around 8 PM.  He was a costume designer for the theater program at the school.  When he got home, he pulled out a huge pot full of sausage, chicken, carrots, onions, potatoes, and other vegetables that had slowly been cooking all day.  The food was incredible.  I was a very happy ugly cyclist…with a bad haircut and lips that were falling off.

We spoke for a while and I happily retreated to my futon.  Jason was OK to let me stay another day in Abilene.  Thank God.  Today had broken my spirits.  It was the most difficult ride I’ve experienced.

day in abilene

Jason worked at a place called Little Italy.  They serve pizzas, strombolis, calzones, and other greasy Italian dishes.  Fantastic.  Jason said he’d hook me up with his employee discount.  Even better.  I grabbed a stromboli and sweet tea and sat outside.

I looked like a lonely guy eating outside.  Everyone inside was loud and talkative.  Very happy people.  My lips were falling off.  “Hey, can I sit with you?  My lips are falling off.”  Jason’s friend Carrie had just pulled up and sat down with me.  A friend!  We all laughed and ate greasy food.

Later that day, I took care of Jason’s kitchen cleanup and headed to the coffee shop.  3-4 hours of blog work.  Then off to Jason’s operetta.

The operetta is a mix between a musical and opera.  Odd mix.  Narration, dialogue, and song.  The HMS Pinafore.  Jason did the costume design for it, which was excellent.  I sat alone.  Lonely and sad guy watching an operetta.  I was laughing alone too.  It was a pretty simple plot based on a weird love triangle on a royal naval ship.  The love triangle concluded with three marriages, which all happened to be incestuous.  Yum.

Jason and I went back to his place and celebrated with brownies.  We then watched Reefer Madness, a cult film making fun of the older propaganda film villainizing marijuana.

Rideshare: Austin, TX to Valle de Bravo, Mexico

When Jeff and I headed out, I could finally relax. I was sweaty, stressed, and exhausted. I only had about 3 hours before I was out of the country, so I got on the phone. I bought travel insurance through InsureMyTrip.com that would give me $100,000 of medical insurance for 3 months for $100. Then I called my mom and dad. My mom seemed worried and told me to be safe. It was a “this is it” moment, like we would never speak again. I assured her I would be okay.

I hadn’t really given my dad a whole lot of updates on what I was doing, so when I called I surprised him with “I’m going to Mexico tonight.” He didn’t seem to know that I was going solo either. Although he had been freaked out about me going to Mexico earlier in our communications by email, he didn’t seem too worried on the phone. He just took it as new information.

Then I texted. I texted and texted. I hit a lot of people in my address book.

Crossing the Border

Jeff and I stopped at Walmart in Laredo. I felt like I was already in Mexico. Everyone was speaking Spanish.

I stopped to exchange my US dollars for pesos – 13 pesos for 1 USD – and I gave all my US coins to a bum who forced himself on us to wash the windshield.

Then we took the plunge. We crossed the border. Surprisingly, I didn’t see any blood or dead bodies in the street. It was a quiet, uneventful crossing at 9:30 pm. We got our 6 month tourist cards for $20, and then approached a checkpoint.

I fell asleep before long. We made it to Monterrey at 12:30 am and got a hotel for the night.

Monterrey to Valle de Bravo

We got a really late start the next day. After getting our desayuno continentale of coffee, orange juice, and two slices of toast, and using the internet for a while, we got out of there after noon.

We passed through mountains and desert. And lots of Vulkanizadora (tire repair) shacks. It was scenic in a way, a lot like the Southwest, but I was happy I wasn’t on my bike.

There was a traffic jam. Jeff couldn’t cope with it and pulled off to a strip mall of vulkanizadoras. He asked some Mexicans about the slowdown. Construction for 4 km. They told him to take the dirt path that ran parallel to the highway. Gracias. Vamos!

The road was terrible. An off-roading adventure. I looked over at the highway. Trucks were moving slowly. We were moving slowly. I couldn’t tell which was faster. Jeff had to feel right about it though, “It’s a parking lot over there.”

We got back onto the highway and then we stopped for a car wash. Two guys with rags and buckets full of dirty water.

Jeff got an Aerospace Engineering degree, worked in a company for 3 years, didn’t like it and quit. He’s been doing his hang gliding business ever since. Sounds kind of like me, except I have to start a hang gliding business.

I asked Jeff a logic puzzle to pass the time. Three light bulbs and three light switches in two different rooms – how can you tell which light switch goes to which light bulb? He got into it. But he was trying to control the situation; I think he felt threatened. He kept declaring, “It’s impossible. I can’t see how you’d do that.” Hey Jeff, I asked you the question, so you can probably guess I’ve got the answer too. I felt bad for him so I gave him a hint. He got close to the answer, but then went back to being furiously unbelieving. I tried to get him back on track. “Jeff, the heat was a good idea. Go with that.” He kept thinking out loud. Then he got the answer as I was nodding him along, and he felt really triumphant, like he was putting a stake in the ground. “That’s how you’d do it!” Although I had a few more logic puzzles, I knew not to try them on Jeff. He doesn’t react well to bad tests of intelligence.

There was another slowdown on the road. It was an overturned bus. Pretty scary.

We got in to Valle de Bravo at 1 am. Jeff let me stay in the bunkhouse across from his place.

Lampasas, TX to Brownwood, TX

late start

I got up at 7:30 AM.  Nope.  I couldn’t see straight.  I had to go back to bed.  No way I could cycle like this.  9 AM.  OK.  Better.  I took a shower and loaded the bike.

Donnie was preparing breakfast.  Beans, omelets, and potatoes.  Great sendoff.  He gave me a handshake which turned into a hug.  I can definitely call this guy a friend.  I had a lot of fun the previous night.  Good memories.

Today was going to be a long day.  I had to do 72 miles, and it was already 10 AM.  All day would be spent on a single highway.  I had a headwind again. Damnit.  When am I going to catch a break?

The ride was full of hills.  Hills and wind.  I remember Louisiana.  The wind was bad there.  This was worse.  Hills + wind sucks.  Take into account the scorching heat of West Texas, and it’s hell.  Beautiful landscape.  I should enjoy the hills while I have them because, once I hit Abilene, it’s flat and boring.

I stopped at a gas station to give my frail legs a break.  There was a trucker right beside me who kept scratching off lotto tickets the whole time.  “This is a winner.  This is a winner.”  Nope.  He went through a bunch.  I wanted to eat his buffalo chicken wings.  He didn’t even notice me taking his picture.  Poor sad guy.  Will this be me in a month?

race against the clock:  my hunt for a place to sleep

After about 30 miles, I started thinking about a shower.  And sleeping arrangements.  I didn’t know where I was going to end up for the night.  For the rest of the day, I was trying to think of ways I could score a shower.  I had heard of a cyclist that offered to do yard work for people if, in return, he could get a shower and place to pitch a tent.  Perhaps a couch and meal.

I wanted to try it.  I was a few miles from Brownwood, and it was time to begin the hunt for a camping spot.  It was 5:30 PM when I spotted a single guy pulling the trashcan back to his house.  I thought about an easy ’in’ for conversation.

“Excuse me.  Do you know of any spots to camp?”

This question alone always leads to conversation about what the hell I’m doing on a bicycle.  If I can get some conversational history in with someone, they’ll trust me more.  Establish a rapport.  I was crossing my fingers.

He offered me a chance to refill my water bottles.  Score.  I went inside.  I explained the situation and offered to do yard work for a shower and place to pitch a tent.  He declined by saying, “If I knew you dude, it wouldn’t be a problem.  You know what I mean?”  DAMNIT!  I was so close.  I had to tweak the strategy somehow.

Colby gave me his number.  He wanted me to call if I couldn’t find anything.  At the very least, he’d offer a shower.  Damn.  Why not a place to pitch a tent?  I’m on a bicycle.  Watch out.  I might haul your truck away.

He had to go.  He was on the way to the gym.  He told me there were RV parks down the street.  Try them.  Call if I couldn’t find anything.  I kind of just wanted to sit there and not try.  Then call him and have him pity me.  Take me in.

I cycled away and tried another house.  The home owner wasn’t in.  The woman who answered was a relative.  That was probably a first for her.  Cyclist offering work for shower.  She was bewildered.

That was the last house before town.  I found the RV parks.  No tent camping.  I was fine with that.  They charge RV’s $18 a night.  Rip-off.  I went to McDonald’s to eat dinner because I knew I wouldn’t have time to fire up the stove that night.  Maybe someone in McDonald’s would help.

And someone did.  A worker told me there was a campground not far away.  Near the car dealerships.  Hope was renewed.  After eating, I took off towards the car dealerships.  I couldn’t find shit.  AGH.  Flakey directions.  I wound up in a small picnic area with two tables.  It was right next to the highway.  Is this what she was talking about?  Damnit!  I considered just pulling out my sleeping bag and not pitching the tent.  I’d be out of sight from any cops.

A couple parked nearby and sat in their truck.  I walked up to them and gave it one last shot.  “Do you guys know of a town park near here?  Near the car dealerships?”  Score.  The woman pointed just down the road.  She told me they had facilities and everything.  She expressed a motherly concern over my travels and emphasized that I be safe.

I took off in a good mood.  Talking to people always helps.  It always lead to something good.  Brooksville.  Abbeville.  People do care.

I cycled into the park uncertain of what I’d find.  The park was incredible.  A river flowed through it.  There were people fishing and walking.  Tons of ducks and geese.  I saw facilities and a pavilion.  I pedaled down to the boat ramp and took a bath in the river before the sun went down.  There was a newly wed couple nearby playing with their puppy by the riverside.  They were probably wondering what the hell I was doing.

I hunkered down in a far corner of the park where the river bent.  I fell asleep to the sound of ducks and insects.  Perfect.

Austin: Preparing for Mexico

The morning was silent. Heavy, silence. I was in my head. Thinking about how the split with Ryan would be. We took photos before I took off. Then the parting. I didn’t have any great words to say. “Good luck. Be safe.” It was pretty hard though. I don’t do well with those heavy goodbyes. It was emotional.

I rode away to meet up with a CouchSurfer, Trevor, who would host me for a few days while I decide what to do. As I rode, my sad, heavy feelings went away, and I felt a new freedom. I knew I would still miss Ryan but it’s pretty cool going solo. All challenges are yours.

Goodwill Cookware

On my ride down from North to South Austin, I stopped a book shop and got a Spanish phrasebook, then I went into the Goodwill next door. I found some small pots. I wanted something smaller than the MSR one I took with me since I only really want it for when I’m stuck.

I found a good pot for only $3 but it didn’t come with a lid. I found a loose lid that would fit if I bent the edges. I knew they would probably try to charge me for it as a separate item, but I was prepared to fight. When I went to pay, the cashier held up the lid and said, “99 cents cool?” I responded, “I figured that the lid would be included with the pot.” He said I could wait to talk to the manager. I was fine with that. I waited. I called his bluff. He charged me $3 for pot AND lid. Victory!

Trevor

I made it over to Trevor’s. His place was pretty barren and he had all his stuff spread out because he was posting it on craigslist for sale. Selling everything before his bike trip from Colombia to Argentina, the long way. It reminded me of my move from Atlanta. Like me, Trevor had had a bunch of roommates come through and leave stuff which now he was selling. He made some great money at it too. Inspiring.

His roommate had just moved out, so I had my own room. No bed or anything, but I had privacy and a place to spread out my crap to get organized. I laid out my sleeping bag and pad. Sleeping like a squattor.

Rideshares to Mexico

When I got in to Trevor’s, I checked my email. A few weeks ago I had responded to a rideshare ad on craigslist about being paid $250 to drive a car from Houston to Oaxaca. The guy had just got back to me saying he had another car for me to transport. The timing was incredible. But the situation was suspicious.

I called Tomas about the ride. He was based in Atlanta, a Mexican guy from Oaxaca. I asked him about the details. He said I could drive it down myself, but he would be happy to accompany me if I wanted. I asked him why I was needed then, if he would be willing to come along. Apparently, he needs a US citizen to get a temporary car permit to import the car. So the title would be in someone else’s name but the permit in mine. It’s valid for 6 months, but he would get it canceled about two weeks after I got it down there. He said he’s got a friend in the border control that helps him out with these cancellations. Usually you can only get the permit canceled when you bring the car back to the US. So this is a one-way trip for the car with an illegal cancellation.

Tomas said that we could go down to Oaxaca, and I could stay at his family’s house for a few days, and he could show me around. Sounded pretty good. Except for the risks involved with the permit. Tomas told me he just had a guy from Houston drive a car down, and I could talk to him. His name was Wayne. He was an older guy. I called him and Wayne said that his experience was great. No problems. Tomas was a good guy. Paid all the expenses including a bus and flight back to the US. Tomas’ niche business just needed some US citizens to get the permit and drive, and his friend at border control to bend the rules. I felt pretty good about it after talking to Wayne.

Then I checked craigslist again and found a ride from Austin to Valle de Bravo, just West of Mexico City. The guy said that he was only looking for the company on the ride down. He would pay for gas and tolls. I only needed to be a passenger, and I would only need to pay for food. I liked this better. Less responsibility and free passage. I contacted the guy, Jeff, on Monday. He was leaving Tuesday. I needed to scramble to get things together.

Getting Prepared: Electronics

I needed a digital camera so I looked at them in BestBuy, Walmart, and Target. All about $150 and then an extra $20 for a memory card plus taxes. Ouch. I tried craigslist and contacted a bunch of people. I found a pretty nice Sony Cybershot DSC-W55 7.2 MP for $75. The guy told me it didn’t come with a charger; he wanted to keep it to have a spare. I told him my situation, that I was leaving the US in a hurry, and we struck a deal for everything for $80. Cool. The camera’s great and the video on it is good, so I mailed my video camera and bulky tapes back home.

The iPod I bought on eBay was mailed back last Monday to the Austin address where we’d be staying for a few days. I was anxious for its arrival. It didn’t arrive. On Monday, it still didn’t arrive. Shit, do I have to wait for this thing, and lose the rideshare to Mexico? I got to a computer to contact the eBay seller and he had contacted me to tell me that it had been returned to him in Michigan. He sounded angry, “What happened???” Like it was my fault. USPS messed up, I guess. So I contacted him, told him the situation that I couldn’t stay around, and I would pay him the $5 shipping he spent, and he could repost it on eBay. I still haven’t heard back from him. I hope he’s not a dick about it.

So then I searched craigslist for an iPod. I contacted a guy about his 3rd generation 8 GB one for $70. iPod + Firewire cable. Gaaah, I need a USB cable dammit. Whatever, I’d take it.

He was a really inflexible guy. He was about 10 miles away from where I was and I was on a bike. I wanted to come by that night to pick it up since I would be around that area picking up the digital camera. Nope, 10 pm would be too late. Stupid. So I had to meet him in the morning, early morning. 8 am. I had stayed up until 2 am packing stuff up, and then had to get up at 7 am and leave at 7:30. I was dead tired and biked 10 miles through heavy rush hour traffic. Bastard.

On the phone, I said “Hmmm, only firewire huh? I really need USB cable. What do you say about $60.” Sure. I met up with him, and he handed me the iPod. No cable. I thought he’d include the firewire for $60. Nope. He didn’t even bring it. He wanted to screw me. I handed him the money since I was desperate, and he just walked off. It felt like he was trying to get away with it. No standing around and talking to me. The deal was done and he wanted to get the hell out of there. I felt kind of nervous about it, but the iPod seems to work properly.

So then I had to get a USB cable. I saw one with a power adapter on craigslist for $20. Expensive, but I needed it. USB cables at Walmart are about $20, and the power adapter is even more, so I figured it was a good deal. The guy got back to me and I picked it up immediately.

No headphones though. All this piecemealing for an iPod. Luckily I had brought some iPod headphones with me. I guess I was completing the set.

My host, Trevor, let me use his computer to load up my iPod. The guy had left a bunch of stuff on there. Lots of ska, reggae, hip-hop, and metal. I left the hip-hop and metal. Then I loaded a bunch of Learn Spanish podcasts. I’ll learn it while I’m biking.

Alcohol Stove

Without Ryan, I didn’t have a stove. I didn’t want to buy one; they’re expensive, and I figured I would rather have local food in Mexico. Part of the cultural experience. My friend, Andrew Brown, who had driven me down from Knoxville to Atlanta to start my trip told me I should look into building an alcohol stove. Really light, inexpensive, and the fuel is readily available.

I found a great website on how to build the Super Cat. The guy goes into major detail on every aspect of this alcohol stove. It’s great. With denatured alcohol as fuel, the Super Cat boils 2 cups of water in 4 minutes. Materials: 3 oz aluminum can of cat food and a hole puncher. I went to Walmart, spent 50 cents on the can, and $1 on the hole puncher.

Incident at the Post Office

I was in a big hurry to get my stuff done so I could meet up with Jeff and take off South. Sweating it up cycling around town.

I wanted to pare down on the amount of stuff I was carrying. I didn’t need my big pot anymore, or the video camera since I got the digital camera which has pretty good video capability, or the video tapes, etc. I packed it up in a box and brought it to the post office.

Since I’m traveling, I don’t have access to typical household items like tape. So I spotted the roll of Priority Mail tape and used a 12 inch strip to bind the top of the box. I didn’t have a pen either, so I asked one of the clerks, this older Latino guy. He bitched about how they never get their pens back when they let people borrow them. I assured him I would return it.

When my turn came, it was the Latino guy that was available. I put it on the scale and said I wanted parcel post. He told me $21. Damn. For parcel post? He told me that since I used that Priority Mail tape, I had to use Priority Mail to ship it. Parcel post would be $12. I asked him if I could just use duct tape instead since I had some with me. No, you don’t want to use duct tape. I suggested I could just cover the Priority Mail tape with the duct tape. No, I can’t do that. I have to take off the Priority Mail tape. I can’t use their tape. Come on man! Have mercy on me. I’m in trying to get to Mexico. It’s 12 inches of tape.

I didn’t have time to buy tape somewhere, and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to pay $9 for 12 inches of Priority Mail tape either. I used the duct tape that was wrapped around my wrench handle. Miraculously it was the exact length I needed to cover up the Priority Mail strip.

I got back into line. I didn’t want to get the Latino guy again. I shouldn’t have told him my scheme of covering it with duct tape. I was anxious how this lottery would turn out. I got to the top of the line. The Latino guy disappeared into the back to find something. Then the Black guy came available. I jumped forward, eager to be helped by him. Then a guy stuck in from the side and the Black guy held his hand out to me. I guess this sneak guy had been helped before and got priority. Shit. I was sweating, hoping Latino guy wouldn’t reappear to help me. Russian roulette. Fatal game of chance. The lady being helped by the Asian guy wouldn’t move her ass. “Okay, so what number do I call?” “Mam, you call the number I gave you and they can help you out.” This conversation went on and on.

Finally, she left, and I sprang forward to the Asian guy. Phew!! I put my duct taped box up on the scale, told him Parcel Post, and then the Latino guy appeared. I was expecting him to sabotage me, “Hey, check to see if there’s Priority Mail tape under the duct tape. This guy’s trying to pull a fast one on us, using Government tape for free. Who does he think he is?!” I paid my $12 and got out of there quick.

Mission Complete

After the post office, I stopped by a bike shop to use their chain whip to get my cassette lockring loosened. I didn’t want to bring a chain whip with me. They’re big. I figured that if it was loose enough, I could use my own chain and the cassette tool to do the job. Just brace the chain. I’d only need it if I broke a spoke in my rear wheel, on the cassette side.

I got to Jeff’s place and helped him pack it up. We loaded my bike in the back, and we headed off.

Austin, TX to Lampasas, TX

riding out solo

I woke up early and said my goodbyes to Nick and Laura. I loaded up the bike and took off solo. The first few minutes were weird. No partner. No one to tell you, “Hey, we missed the turn.” Of course, I took two wrong turns. There’s one mile wasted.

I quickly adapted and started enjoying my newfound freedom. It was good. I was a lone wolf. Like Eoin said, all challenges are yours. There’s no bubble to share with your friend. No compromises.

The ride to Lampasas was one that would go from bigger highways to remote ranch roads. The scenery was great. Short, deep hills. Flowers. Cacti. Grassy mesas covered with rocks.

hi! be my friend!!!

On one of the major highways leading out of Austin, a fellow cyclist passed me across the divide. I waved. He waved. I kept waving. It was a weird interaction. I had my iPod on, and I couldn’t tell if he was yelling something. It looked like he did. I was just looking at him, and he was looking at me. He was waiting for a reply, and I just gave him another wave. He probably thought, “What the hell just happened?” Damn. I wish I would have gotten another picture. If that happened again, I’m going to take one.

And it did. Two cyclists this time. I quickly got my camera out. They didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Another weird interaction. Blank looks after I took the picture.

central texas

Remote. That’s the best word. It’s beautiful scenery, but no one is around. I stopped for a snack in a flower patch. I pondered my solitude while listening to Smash Mouth. Lots of 90s music to keep me company.

Google maps did it to me again. I was on a gravel road again. Beautiful. And this was actually in a town. This gravel road ran right into Main Street. Yep. Remote.

After getting through town, I hit a ranch backroad. It was going to be a long haul on this 30 mile county road. Luckily, my water supply was full.

I took advantage of a sign.  Briggs.  Briggs wouldn’t like this gay ugly cyclist jumping around.  I miss the Chief.

I was cycling into the wind the entire ride. It was just a 62 mile day, so I wasn’t too worried about time. Up and down hills. Beautiful scenery. Goats. Longhorn cattle. Donkeys. Rocky mesas and open hills.

I had to start rationing out my water. Half a bottle for every 5 miles. Nowhere to refill my bottles. You couldn’t stop at a house to ask for water because they were gated ranches. Who knew if they had attack dogs, too. After all, this was Texas. I imagined a cowboy chasing an desperate, dehydrated cyclist with his shotgun.

donnie the musician

I finally arrived in Lampasas after a windy, hilly ride. My couch surfing host that night was Donnie, a bass player that had performed with Willie Nelson and other big names. Pretty cool.

He greeted me and offered me a beer. Haha. Beer to hydrate myself. All I could think about was a shower. He was cooking up dinner. His friend Billy was going to join us too. Billy was also a bass player and performed with a lot of bands. Damn. I better man up. These guys were cowboys. I thought about my haircut. Cool. Maybe it’s tough. Or stupid looking. I had also ripped the back of my shirt in Austin. I wouldn’t tell them how. It was when I was taking my shirt off to wash the dogs with Nick.

Donnie had prepared potatoes, green beans, and steak. I devoured it. Donnie kept offering me beer. Good beer. Dos Equis. And I kept drinking. He talked about all the women he was currently dating. He showed me one of the girls. Blonde, blue eyes, and young. She looked like a playmate. He probably thought I liked guys. I was on a bicycle.

Billy and Donnie are much cooler than I am. They have hitchhiked the world and toured Europe, dating young babes and partying everywhere. I went to Georgia Tech and made Highest Honors. I worked in a cube for 3 years too. I’m cool, guys! I am!

drank too much

We went outside and shared stories. The beer kept coming. Donnie prepared more food. Jalapeno peppers, tomatoes, cheese, crackers, and chips. Those were gone quickly. I then devoured my entire bag of trail mix.

We had conversations about Mexico, sweet tea, and their travels. They wanted me to tell them a story from my trip. I chose the Brooksville story. I’m still taken aback by it. They were too. Billy said, “You know. While you were telling me that story, I was thinking about a song to write. I can hear it right now. Yep. You just inspired a song.” Damn! That was cool.

As I told them more stories about the kindness of strangers, they kept nodding their heads and confirming that there are a lot of good people in this world. They enjoyed my stories. It felt good.

Then out came the everclear. Crap. I remember that stuff from high school. Nothing good ever came out of it. Donnie had this stuff that was made with lemon peels and everclear. His famous rocker friend made it. I can’t remember his name. I actually can’t remember a lot after that. The drink was really good. Really powerful.

More conversations were had. I kept zoning out. I know we talked about the economy and Lampasas. I just nodded. I probably looked like an idiot. Nodding to things that didn’t need to be nodded to. “Ryan, tell me another story.” All I did was nod. They drank me under the table. They seemed fine.

Billy had to take off. Before he left, he gave me his band’s CD. He also told me, “Ryan, a lot of people come through here. I am happy to call you a friend.” Damn. Pretty cool.

I thought about the next day. Throwing up into the wind while on a bicycle. No good. I easily fell asleep that night.

Austin, TX

bedmate

I enjoyed the full night’s rest in a bed.  Sharing a bed with Eoin has been an experience.  He talks a lot in his sleep.  Here are few things I noted:

In Houston, he yelled ‘SHIT’ and sat up.  I asked him what the problem was.  His head hit the pillow, and he went instantly back to sleep.

Another night, his hand accidentally touched my shoulder.  He blurted out ‘Ahhh’.  He sat up again and lay back down.  Again, he fell instantly asleep.

Another night he punched me.

This was the best one.  I was reading a book in the other room, and I heard him squirming around in the bed.  He was saying “no no no” like a little boy.  “Nooooo!”  I wonder what he was dreaming about.  Little boy didn’t get what he wanted for Christmas.

preparation for separation

Much of the time at Nick and Laura’s was spent preparing for our next legs of the trip in solitude.  Eoin was looking up plane ticket prices and rideshare information to Mexico.  I was trying to figure out how quickly I could get the hell out of Texas.  Looking at Google, I knew West Texas was going to be hell.

We were also both figuring out what kind of gear we needed and didn’t need.  Nick was kind enough to haul us lazy cyclists around in a vehicle.  “Nick, will you take me here?  Oh oh, and there?  Ohhhhh, there too!”

pizza by the slice

We decided to go to a pizza place in northern Austin.  The sign said pizza by the slice, and Nick had gone on about how big their slices were.  We getting really excited, rubbing our tummies and fooling around in the back seat.

We went in and tried ordering slices.  Slices aren’t served past 5:30 PM.  It was 6 PM.  Bullshit.  This reminded me of the ‘Overstuffed Po-boys’ sign at the gas station in Lake Arthur.  We had to settle for a large.

End of shitty story.

It ended with me smiling.  Nick and Laura were uninterested.

lord of the rings at pancake theater

Nick had bought us tickets to the Pancake Theater in Austin.  They were showing Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring.  Four comedians spoke over the movie, calling out shitty parts and blasting away at the gay overtones.  Think Mystery Science Theater 3000.  You could order beer and drinks from your seat.  Great idea.  It was full of hipsters and college kids.  Adult Swim.  Kewl.

Before the movie, they called it one of the worst movies of all time.  I had to let my guard down because I thought Peter Jackson did an amazing job with the trilogy.  I enjoyed the movies, so I had to prepare myself for the bashing.  The stupid nerd in me had to be put to rest for 2 hours.

A lot of the jokes were good.  I loved the literal call-outs on some of the acting.  Example:

Gandalf has a ‘faked’ disappointed look at Frodo while he’s in his wagon.  “Grumbly face.”

Cut back to Frodo smiling.  Cut back to Gandalf.  Long, awkward hold on Gandalf.  Still faking a disappointed face. “Grumbly face still.”

Cut back to Frodo smiling.  Long hold on Frodo.  “Ohhhhh!” (gay voice)

Gandalf turns from a disappointed look to smile.  “Oh, I can’t be mad at you Frodo!  End grumbly face.”

They recognized when Peter Jackson over-emphasized the acting with long holds on actors.  They nailed a lot of the things that are awkward in the movie.

They also threw in a lot of gay jokes.  Over and over.  Blatant profanity.  No wit at all, like the above.  The fat Mexican comedian sucked.  He’d just throw in stuff like, “Meanwhile, in Houston.”  Shitty.  Get out of here!  Boooooo!  You could tell when he made jokes.  Everyone did a “meeeehhhhhh.”  It was the usual reaction to his constant pedophile jokes.

The movie put me in a crazy mood.  I ripped open my shirt during the battle between Aragorn and the Irukei orc leader.

An intermission show.  Joke writers, yes.  Acting, not so much.

6th street and hot babes

After the show, we walked out of the theater onto 6th street.  College kids were swarming around us.  They were clinging onto me and Eoin.  I had to kick a few off of my leg.  They were everywhere, like orcs.  We were overwhelmed, so we retreated to the middle of the street.

We took a photo.  We stood out.  Really ugly guys in the middle of drunk cool college kids.

When I was getting a photo with Nick, two girls strutted up and wanted to be included in our picture.  I said something stupid in a gay voice, “Hey, you gonna put this on facebook or WHAAAAAAT!!!?”

They didn’t understand I was joking because the girl with black hair said, “It’s your fucking camera.  Do whatever the fuck you want to do with it.”  What?  What is this?  And she was walking away.  I immediately thought of The Pickup Artist.  I had to be an asshole.  “OK. I’ll delete it.”  I looked pathetic.  Yelling at them.  Stamping my foot.  “Hey, I’m gonna get you with this comeback!  Yes I am!!!”

They were walking around the street doing the same thing to other guys.  They had guys wrapped around their finger, telling them they were going to flash them.  They were teasing these poor Indian guys.  Poor guys.  They didn’t know.  They just wanted to see boobies.  These two girls were desperate for attention.  Pathetic and desperate.  Look at me, look at me!  I’m in college!!!!

We were walking back to the car.  I was frustrated I hadn’t come up with anything clever to say.  Eoin mentioned we should have just said “no thanks” when they asked to be in a picture with us.  Damn.  That would have been great, but how were we supposed to know they were annoying?

Eoin made me feel better by striking a pose.

hi hi!  can i help you?

I let Nick know I would help him with whatever while we were there.  His two dogs, Mariah and Koda, were pretty energetic, so I figured we could take them on a walk.  And so we did.

We looked like lovers.  Two guys out strolling with their dogs in the park.  I said hello to a cowboy Texan walking his dogs.  He snubbed me.  He probably thought, “Damn gay guy with his gay dog!  Get out of here!” Or maybe he thought I was cute and was too nervous to say anything back to me.

Later on, we gave the dogs a bath.  We were shirtless and sweaty.  Our beads of sweat were glistening in the sun while we were laughing.  Squirting the hose on each other.  Nick smiled.  I laughed.  I wanted to go inside and fool around with Nick but Laura was home.  She would probably notice.  Ssssshhh.  Don’t tell Laura.

I also helped Nick with sweeping.  I had to try to equalize the karma debt we had acquired during our trip.  Helping out around the house makes me feel at ease.  Productivity.  Purpose.  Normalcy.

stupid kid at bbq

Saturday evening, we went to a bbq place called ‘County Line’.  The place was packed, so we went outside on the dock.  Kids were running around feeding the turtles in the water.  Eoin was standing on the edge enjoying the scenery, and a kid ran in front of him violently, nearly knocking Eoin into the water.

The kid didn’t give a shit.  He kept on looking at the turtles.  No respect for the people around him.  Eoin didn’t do anything.  He looked back at me to see if I noticed.  I did.  And I had managed to get a picture.  Eoin was annoyed, but he didn’t do anything.  Fuming.  Seething.  He wanted to feed the kid to the turtles, but he kept it bottled in.  Too scared to fight back.

Later that night we played some Rock Band.  We sucked bad.  Really bad.

the big fight

The next morning was a difficult one.  I avoided Eoin.  He avoided me.  I was outside helping Nick with edging while Eoin was preparing for his departure.  We didn’t want to say goodbye.

Eoin came out to load up his bike.  We started discussing wind speed.  We disagreed on the speed.  15 mph.  20 mph.  25 mph.  We couldn’t settle on the wind direction either.  We started raising our voices in the front yard.  I pushed first.  Then he pushed.  It was on.

Headlocks.

Choke-outs.

Flying elbows.

Nick jumped in for some reason.  Eoin threw a punch.

My breath was knocked out from the flying elbow.  I couldn’t breathe (yes, it really happened).

After a few hours of combat, we got into a weird wrestling position.  It was an accident.  Nick was watching.  Laura was inside.  She didn’t know.  Sssssshhhhh.  Don’t tell.

Eoin said his goodbyes to Nick and Laura.  Before he took off down the street, I walked up to him and gave a more personal goodbye.  He said he didn’t want to prolong it.  As he said this, he was getting choked up.  He isn’t good with long goodbyes.

Goodbye Eoin!  Laura will miss you!

I’ll miss you too.  After Eoin left, I felt pretty sad.  I felt like I did the day after Easter.  A shadow had overcome me.  I knew it would pass, but it was necessary to mourn the departure of my touring partner and friend.

And the best for last.

really really shitty haircut

I felt like I had to do something radical.  A new look.  I thought of Britney Spears.  I wanted to shave my head.  I asked Nick.  He had dog clippers.  Whatever.  That will work.  How hard could it be?

All was going well.  Nick was in the groove.  Knocking out strand after strand.  Man, this guy was good.  He must do this all the time.

When he was halfway through, the clippers quit working.  Shit.  Half my head was shaved.  I was freaking out.  What the hell am I going to do?  Cut it with scissors?  This was funny and shitty at the same time.  Nick checked another socket.  Bzzzzzz.  OK.  We had to find another socket.  The one outside had blown.

We went to the front door, and I sat down.  Nick plugged it in.  Bzzzz.  Cool.  This should be over in no time.

“OH SHIT!”  Uh. What?  “Dude.  I’m sorry.”  I thought he was joking.  How the hell can you mess up shaving someone’s head?  I’m not getting a style.  A lame faux-hawk or whatever.  He kept apologizing.  I felt the back of my head.  I felt a patch of bare skin.

He had forgotten to put the guard back on.  Fuck.  I couldn’t do anything about it but laugh.  And cry.  He kept apologizing.  He told me he wouldn’t charge me for the haircut.  Thanks.  I knew he wanted to laugh.  It was funny.  Whatever.  I wasn’t going to work the next day.  Maybe it will make me look tough.  Or pathetic.  Or stupid.

Laura had just walked up, and she immediately noticed.  She made fun of me.  Uggggggh.  I began to laugh.  Stupid haircut.  It was a good story anyways.  Nick finished up and tried to even it out.  It didn’t help.  I was still ugly.

bbq

We went over to Kevin’s, a friend of Nick’s.  Kevin’s brother Mike was having a bbq.  I kept hearing how great of a cook Mike was.  Cool.  With my shitty haircut, I was happy to drink beer and enjoy bbq before my departure.

Mike cooked and slaved in the kitchen while everyone drank beer and ate appetizers.  Damn.  Mike was pacing back and forth.  Multi-tasking a lot.  We kept on eating.  Watching.  Not helping.  Dan, Nick, Kevin and I spent a lot of time talking about games.  They all work in the industry.  Eoin would have had a great time.  “Hey, did you ever play Mario?”

I had fun talking to Trevor, their friend from Jersey.  We made fun of guidos, Jersey shore, and bennys.

really awkward.  um, can i get a picture? please sir

Mike could cook.  Very well.  The girl Mike was dating came over, and he took her inside to serenade her with the piano.  She was melting in his arms at the piano.  I walked in.  Hmm.  I didn’t want to interrupt a romantic moment.

I stood behind them.  Mike kept playing.  I stood there.  Was this weird?  Am I hovering?  I kept standing.  I didn’t know when to cut in.  Would Mike get pissed that I interrupted him.  Man, he’s going to be pissed.  He’s going to throw me out because I messed up his pick-up.  Paranoid thoughts ran through my mind.

He was about to turn the page.  This was it.  Say something Ryan!  Say something.  He kept on playing.  Shit.  That was the opportunity.  I stood there hovering some more.  The awkwardness of the situation was escalating.  The girl, Annie, knew I was there.  She could feel the awkwardness of the situation too.  She could probably feel the heat from my face.  I was turning red from the awkward moment.

Finally, he messed up.  I said in a meek voice, “Could you guys get in a picture?  I want to get one before we head out.”

“Sure,” Mike said.  He didn’t give a shit.  This fantasy I had played out in my head was stupid.  Just like the people at the church who didn’t care about us camping there.

So we took a picture.  And that was that.

Burton, TX to Austin, TX

We got up before 7 am. Carol had prepared breakfast. Biscuits and gravy, and sausage. Lots of biscuits. Great breakfast. Ryan brought it up later in the day a few times. “Man, that breakfast was good!”

Two guys came at 8 am to help her fix her two Ford Model A’s. She was going to be busy that day so we had to pack up and leave early. It was disappointing because we didn’t have a lot of time to appreciate the countryside and soak up the peacefulness of her place. We got in her truck, and she took us out to US-290 to avoid biking on all the gravel roads. Thanks for the head start!

We got another awesome day. Two days in a row where we had the wind at our backs. We were riding at about 25 mph a lot of the way, and easily. This was Texas hill country, but the hills helped us most of the time; we got great momentum.

When we stopped for lunch a little outside of Austin, I started singing.

All around the world, statues crumble for me
Who knows how long I’ve loved you
….
25 years old, my mother god rest her soul

I just want to fly!
(Fly fly fly.)
Put your arms around me baby, put your arms around me baby.

Ryan knew this one. We sang and sang. Sugar Ray. Mmmmm.

I tried to remember this other song by a band I associate with Sugar Ray. Fat singer, sunglasses. Singing something about stars. It was bothering me. Ryan was throwing out suggestions. Third Eye Blind. Barenaked Ladies. Fuel. Mighy Mighty Bosstones. A bunch of other bands of the era.

I had to call my sister, Eleanor. She knows this stuff. Great memory for lyrics. I described it and she came back with “All that glitters is gold. Only shooting stars break the mold.” That’s it!! Stupid song. She couldn’t think of the band though. Later that night, I got a text after midnight “Smash Mouth. You might as well be walkin’ on the sun.” Hahahha. Fat singer. Shitty band. Smash Mouth.

Ryan and I sang and danced. All around the world, statues crumble for me …

Those two days of riding from Houston to Austin were good. Ryan and I were in a good mood. We accomplished a lot. 160 miles. The wind was with us. It was sad thinking about splitting up.

We got to Nick and Laura’s house in North Austin. Nick’s a friend of Ryan’s from high school. They gave us a warm welcome, and their dogs Mariah and Dakota were all over us. Jumping and licking all over us.

Nick does programming for video games. Nick and Ryan started talking games pretty quickly. They performed a “Have you played … ?” question and answer session. Two old friends, catching up on life:

Ryan: Have you played Dark Castle?
Nick: Yeah, that one was hyped up big time. Sucked.
Ryan: Yeah, I didn’t like it. Have you played Master of Emeralds?
Nick: Yeah dude, that’s a bad ass game. Oh man, did you make it to level 5 where you get the sonar gun and mystic armor?
Ryan: Yeah. But what was up with the seven hour dungeon crawl with no save point.
Nick: I think you gotta beat all the mini-bosses to beat the level.
Ryan: Oh right. Yeah. Have you played Demons Souls?

On and on. Game talk. I had to leave the room.

Ryan: It’s what we have in common, especially since we both worked/work with games.  I was asking Nick about what titles he’s worked on.  Taking an interest in our host.  I thought about bringing Eoin some tissues.  Poor guy.  Sad guy felt left out.  Crying alone in the bathroom.  Want to play Mario?  

Nick and Laura made spaghetti with an old family recipe. What once took all day to make because his great grandma would hand-roll the pasta, now only takes 30 minutes. Lazy Nick. It was still amazing.

Laura showed us her mom’s bed and breakfast in Panama. Holy shit. It was beautiful. Laura told me that if I make it that far, her mom would welcome me in and let me stay a couple of days. That gives me a goal!

Houston, TX to Burton, TX

we wanna stay!!!

Eoin and I had stayed with Sam and Linh for four nights. I bet they were ready to vomit because they were so sick of us. We tried to stay out of their hair the previous two days by going on day rides and seeing things around the city. It didn’t matter. We were probably still annoying just being in a bed.

We said goodbye to Sam and Linh. We were ready to get on the bikes.

the wind at our backs

We had the wind at our backs again. It felt great. Our goal was to get to Hempstead, only 55 miles northwest of Houston. It wasn’t too lofty.  The ride out of Houston was magnificent.  Beautiful scenery and wonderful drivers.  They often honked at us subtly to let us know they were 3 inches behind us.

So beautiful.

The further we got from Houston, the better the scenery became.  Flowers everywhere.  We stopped a minute to take it all in.

I smiled.

Eoin smiled.

We smiled.

In the middle of the day, we realized we had a chance of getting to Burton, where our host Carol lived. I gave Carol a ring and let her know that there might be a chance of us getting there. We would need to cycle close to 100 miles that day.

racing the clock

We were approaching sunset, and Eoin got two flats back to back. I was nervous that Carol would be upset that we were going to be late. That’s all I could think about. Hurry up. Fix your flats. Carol said she had dinner waiting! Thoughts ran through my mind about her kicking us out because the supper had gone cold.

Eoin fixed his flats. We cycled through Burton. 7 miles to go. I knew a few miles would be on gravel. Carol wasn’t picking up her phone. I thought she was mad. Maybe she blocked me? Maybe she’s going lock the gate to her place? Oh no.

I finally got in touch with her a few miles past Burton. She said she was driving to pick us up the last few miles because she was concerned. Whoah! Our my fantasies of getting kicked out were dashed. We saw her come flying towards us on the highway. We were saved, and the sun was setting.

We got to her home. She showed us our quarters, which would be the top level of the barn. It was a great location. Beautiful surroundings. I was bummed because we didn’t have much of a chance to take it all in.

The food was still hot. Carol had it sitting on the stove. Salad was waiting for us on the table. We talked a while about her home and her life. She had built her home with her bare hands. She lived out in the barn while doing so. She was tough. A tough country girl with a warm, kind spirit. I enjoyed hearing her laugh at our lame jokes. She told us about her travels and all the work she did for Habitat for Humanity.

She asked us what we did for a living. “Are you boys in construction?” Oh man. We had both been locked in cubicles working with computers. We were huge weenies. Carol could build a house. We could make spreadsheets. Carol built houses overseas. We sent spreadsheets to our cubicle neighbors. It was embarrassing.  She could have easily taken me.

I wanted to chat more because I enjoyed speaking to her, but it was getting late. I was dead tired. We retreated to the barn, opened the porch door, and fell asleep to the sound of the country. Romantic.

Liberty, TX to Houston, TX

rotten teeth for breakfast

Shawn woke us up and joked around with us about sleeping in.  It was about 8 AM.  He was headed to the donut shop to grab breakfast for everyone.  Damn.  That’s awesome.

Eoin and I had a few donuts.  I didn’t feel too shitty for eating shitty food because of all the calories we burn.  The Splenda in my coffee made me quiver a little bit though.  I don’t understand Splenda when raw sugar is just as good and cheaper.  And healthier.

Logan plopped down next to us and started to eat.  He had a soda in his hand and was eating donuts for breakfast.  A lot of them.  I immediately had negative thoughts.  Obesity and distaste for such a diet came to mind.  I felt guilty for having such negative thoughts because the family had been so kind to us.  I just wish their diet matched their kindness.  Most of the family was overweight or approaching that level.  If only their religious discipline spilled over into their dietary discipline.  I have no place to give an opinion to them in their own home, but I suppose I can share it here.  

Whatever.  They were a great family and their warmth was much appreciated.  Thanks Vickers.

vagabond wanna-be’s

We had a short ride that day and the wind was going to slightly be at our backs.  That’s a change of pace.

We were headed down a nice smooth highway and approached two backpackers.  Eoin stopped and introduced himself.  Their names were Charlie and Corey.  They seemed like pretty interesting guys.  They talked about coming from New Orleans and just traveling on a whim.  They were hopping trains and hitchhiking.  I had warmed up to them, but there were a series of events that made me lose all respect for these dirty little piss ants.

Corey asked us, “Did you guys plan this trip?  Because we didn’t.”

Wow.  Cool.  You didn’t utilize easily accessible tools like the internet and an atlas to make some sort of preparation.  You suck. 

Charlie and Corey then talk about their aspirations for the trip.  Corey says, “Yeah, man.  My dream is just to pitch a tent next to a lake and eat snakes.”  This kid was 20 and looks like he came from a suburban neighborhood.  He just had dirt on his face and cool aviator glasses.  You’re full of shit.  You don’t know a thing about catching snakes.  And using a predatory animal as your staple food?  Right.  That’s why farmers in the midwest herd Siberian Tigers and Grey Wolves.

Charlie was carrying a guitar.  A hitchhiker carrying a guitar.  These guys were romanticized by the idea of the vagabond.  Charlie thought he was Desperado.  He wasn’t.  Carrying a guitar for 30 miles must suck.  Their packs were easily over 40 pounds too.  Did you guys plan this trip?  Obviously not.

Charlie pulled out a drink bottle out of his pack.  He then did something that really turned me off.  He pulled the empty Dasani bottle out of his pocket and tossed it on the side of the road.  I would think hitchhikers are appreciative of their environment.  In touch with their surroundings.

These guys sucked.  A lot.  We took off, and we spent 10 minutes tearing them up.  We imagined them walking through the Greater Fifth Ward of Houston and getting raped.  That’s the ‘bad’ area of Houston that Shawn had warned us about.

first flat

I knew it would happen soon.  We were due.  15 miles out from Houston I got a flat.  I wasn’t too concerned.  We had plenty of daylight.  Luckily I had a spare tire in my pannier.

I’m also glad it didn’t happen in the Greater Fifth Ward.

Run!  A black guy in the Greater Fifth Ward!!!

Shawn and family warned us about the Greater Fifth Ward.  From what they said, we expected bombs to be going off and headless women to be running around with blood spurting out like fire hydrants.  We were a little excited about cycling through, actually.

A few people yelled at us, asking us where we were from.  Pretty cool.  But we didn’t stop.  Another guy in a small SUV yelled at us and tried speaking to us.  We said we were from Atlanta and waved.  We didn’t want any trouble.  Maybe he wanted to rape us.  Maybe he wanted to murder us!!!

We got through the Greater Fifth Ward with no problems.  A few miles later, the guy that we had just seen a few minutes ago pulls up behind us.  

SHIT! CYCLE FAST! A BLACK GUY IN THE GREATER FIFTH WARD IS FOLLOWING US!!!!!

He got out and asked us about our equipment.  He wasn’t trying to rob us.  We created another fantasy in our heads that was ballooned by the fears of the suburbs.  His name was Andrew, and the first thing he asked us about was our components.  He was a cyclist, and he had a Chihuahua hopping around in the front seat of his car.  OK.  This guy wasn’t going to shoot us.  He’s cool.

He shook our hands about 4-5 times each.  I held out my hand initially to shake his hand, and he didn’t see it.  I held it there for about 5 seconds, hoping he would.  I didn’t want to retract it.  I stood strong.  Eoin noticed and called me on it later.  Andrew eventually saw my hand.

laughter in houston

We rode through Houston.  Laughter.  Fun.  Two lonely guys.

We finally got to Sam and Linh’s place.  They were our Warm Showers/Couch Surfing hosts for Houston.  We had been on the saddle for 9 days straight, and we wanted some time to heal up.  

They were really good to us that night.  Sam is well traveled and a cyclist, so he had a good amount of stories to share with us.  Linh is an excellent cook.  Sam would help out if she let him.  She whipped up salmon pasta and a bunch of veggies.

Oh.  We baked brownies.  Surprise.  Later that night, Eoin wanted to show me something upstairs.  Sam had let him know that we’d be sharing a bed.  I opened the bedroom door and noticed dimmed lights.  I wandered around the room, bumping into things because my eyes hadn’t adjusted.  Then I bumped into Eoin.  Waiting for me and smiling.  I happened to be walking around the dimly lit room with a camera.

 

I surprised him a little later.  Gotcha!

Beaumont, TX to Liberty, TX

Michelle offered to cook us eggs for breakfast. Damon came out and saw all the eggs in the bowl and said, “You’re cooking eggs for everybody?!” He sounded surprised that we would be included in the eggs. But then he cooked and the eggs were awesome. Great job, Damon!

As Michelle was leaving for work, we thanked her for hosting us. Then when we left, we said goodbye to Damon. His warmth at that point was surprising. He told us that we were great guests and welcome back anytime. So we left on a positive note with Damon, although his attitude toward us had lots of ups and downs during our stay.

We headed out on US-90 towards Liberty, TX on our way to Houston. 70 mph speed limit. Two lanes. No shoulder. Semi-trucks weaving out and then back in to pass us. Honking. It was nerve-raking. And to make it worse, it was a perfectly straight road with boring surroundings. Scrub land. And it was hot. Nightmare ride.

We stopped at a gas station for water. Immediately, a guy was interested in our story. We asked him about Liberty, if there were any churches where we might be able to camp. He gave us some information. Then we parted. A couple of minutes later, he came back. Shawn told us he lives in Liberty and that we could stay with him. He said he’d feed us too. The only thing it would cost us is that we’d have to listen to him talk about Jesus. We couldn’t argue with that. It was Good Friday.

That pumped us up. It was the first time we’d been offered a place to stay, and so spontaneously. That was cool.

We got back onto US-90 and there was a shoulder. A shoulder the rest of the way to Liberty. It was amazing. The day had changed. Shawn was the turning point. Now we didn’t have worry about finding a place to stay for the night, and we got a shoulder to ride on.

It was a blazing hot day. We stopped at a dusty gas station. Trucks pulled in, dumpy couples in middle-aged jeans went into the store and came out with cold drinks. We sat and watched. No one was getting gas. Everybody wanted a cold, cold drink. We had our warm water bottles and we were dripping sweat. Dumpy jeans came out of air-conditioned vehicles for a cold soda.

We acted out a scenario as the high-maintenance, low-tolerance wife sitting in the passenger seat:
“Oh Davy! I’m so hot in this air-conditioned vehicle! Have mercy on me, Davy! I need a cold, cold drink. Oh Lord, Davy! My mouth is gettin’ dry! Please stop and get me an ice cold drink. Davy! Have mercy on me!”

We wanted the cold, cold drink. Selfish guys. Fantasizing that someone would say, “Hey, you guys look like you could use a cold, cold drink on a day like this,” and then run into the store and bring out some drinks for us.

We got to Liberty early. Shawn was going to be available after 5. Library was closed for Good Friday. We wasted an hour bouncing around all the fast-food restaurants for wifi. Then we gave up and spent the rest of the time fooling around by the gazebo.

Ryan called Shawn. Shawn decided to pick us up in his truck. He had lots of questions for us, and he’d always start with a jovial, “Hey, so I’ve got a question.”

We got to his house. Shawn told us his wife was on edge about having us stay. We walked in and were introduced. Ryan and I were in the kitchen, Shawn’s wife, Christy, and his mom, Donna, were in the living room, and Shawn was in between trying to bridge the gap. Christy and Donna said hi, and then just stared at us. No shaking hands or other niceties. We stood there, not knowing what to say, feeling unwanted. It felt like forever. Shawn gave us an out: “You guys want to grab whatever bags you need from the garage.” “Yeah, yeah, we should get our bags.”

Shawn’s son, Logan was playing 2-square on the street with his friend, Asa. Fifth graders. Ryan and I joined in for 4-square. Maybe we could curry favor with the family by playing with Logan. At first it was totally non-competitive. We’d bounce the ball to each other, and when someone screwed up, nothing happened. No points, no changing positions. Just bouncing a ball with no consequences. I can’t imagine playing non-competitive 2-square. After Ryan suggested some competition, we changed positions on screw-ups.

As we were warming up to playing with Logan and Asa, we started flexing our muscles. We’d slam it hard and it would bounce way down the street so they’d have to run after it. 26-year-old guys showing off to 11-year-olds. I asked Asa if he played baseball. “Yes sir.” Damn. Respect for your elders. From his perspective, they’re playing with some sad old guys. From our perspective, we’re really cool.

The family came out as Donna was going home. Christy saw us playing. I think that helped a lot. She started warming to us.

Asa left, and we all went inside. We had some warm up conversation, and then Shawn said, “Okay, now here comes the fun part for me.” Gulp. “What are your religious backgrounds?” Lumpy throat, sweaty palms. I told Shawn that I was raised Catholic, went to church every Sunday until the end of college, it started being really boring and I wasn’t getting anything out of it, so I stopped going. Ryan said how he wouldn’t classify himself as “religggiooousss….??” but suggested he was more spiritual, as he reads the Bible.

Ryan:  It’s hard to be funny here.  It was a serious discussion.  I said I’m not ‘religious’ with a scrunched face.  I was trying to prepare myself for how he’d react.  I don’t go to church.  I associate the word ‘religious’ with a political body.  A church.  Spirituality is more of a New Age word too.  I try to avoid that word too.  I really didn’t know how to describe it.  A personal relationship with God…with Christ.  I gave him my viewpoints on Christianity and the gospels.  We spoke about the Dead Sea scrolls and the how some of the gospels were not canonized.  I also questioned his one requirement to get into Heaven.  He stated that salvation through Christ is a guarantee into Heaven.  I questioned his wording.  Guarantee?  Eternal life in Heaven is not secured by an earthly decision.  It helps I’m sure.  But guarantee?  I tried to bring up specific scripture.  I had just read it before I left.  Luke.  It would have been useful.  It’s still bothering me.  He kept calling me a Calvinist.  I still don’t know what that means because I don’t believe in pre-destination.

Shawn asked, “What does it take to get into heaven?” I fell for his trick. I said you need to be a “good person,” whatever that means. Then he asked, “Have you ever lied? Have you ever taken the Lords name in vain? Have you ever had unclean thoughts about women?” The ten commandments. We’re sinners.

He basically told us that it’s the grace of God that gets us into heaven. Good works doesn’t do it. Shawn has a Baptist background. It was a good conversation. Not pressured or anything; he just wanted to talk about his beliefs with us.

We all went out to Mas Amigas, a Tex-Mex family restaurant. Ariel, their 13-year-old daughter, and Logan were both saying how when they get back to school they’re going to tell their friends that they hosted two cross-country cyclists for a night. So cool! Their friends won’t believe even believe them. Nothing cool ever happens in this town.

When the check came, Ryan took it and said we could pay for ourselves. Shawn insisted he would pay, and got up to get the check back from Ryan. Ryan was playing keep away. A fake dance. After a short show, Ryan just held the check out, still, so Shawn was able to grab it, and easily pull it out of his hand. “Aww, you got me! Damn!” Pretty funny mock dance. Right thing to do though, instead of just sitting back, expecting Shawn to get it. Thanks Shawn! Awesome meal!

We got back to the house, and inflated the twin and queen air mattresses. It was a manual pump. Logan said he could take over from the pumping if we got tired. He wanted to help. Show off in front of the big guys. I got tired from pumping. Logan finished it. Strong guy.

Logan put in The Punisher: War Zone movie. Ryan, Shawn, Logan, and I watched it. Just the guys!! I was surprised at how much violence and bad language was in it. And Shawn didn’t mind letting Logan see it. I guess he would be exposed to it one way or another. Sheltered kids are weird.

Lake Charles, LA to Beaumont, TX

big fat baby

We woke up to a full 8 hours of rest and the smell of hot sausage, waffles, and coffee.  It reminded me of staying with my grandparents.

The previous evening I had spent some time with Mary Ann and Pete reminiscing about my grandparents.  They hung out with Marry Ann and Pete for years when they lived in Lake Charles.  I watched some old video tapes of them all.  My grandfather passed away last autumn, so it was good seeing him happy and smiling.  Marry Ann and Pete were good to my grandparents.  They were good to us.

After a good breakfast, they sent us off.  I was holding back some emotions.  I’m a baby.  A big fat ugly baby.

woops

We were going against the wind again.  With a hearty meal in our stomachs, we were keeping a good pace.  We were cycling through Samuel Houston State Park when it happened.  We had traveled 40 miles when I pulled out my GPS and saw that we missed a turn.  Damnit.  I could tell Eoin was irate.  I told him that we had two options:  1) We continue on and get on the interstate for a while and cross a bridge OR 2) We go north to a smaller highway.  The smaller highway will put us back 20 miles.

This is not what we needed.  We had a full day into the wind.  No good.  And it looked like it was going to rain.  Tough decision.  Eoin started going north towards the highway.  His little legs were fueled by the anger caused by our mistake.  I wasn’t too annoyed, so I followed him silently.

welcome to texas, home of stupid signs

Many miles later battling the wind we finally reached the Texas border.  This lifted our spirits for few minutes.  We made fun of the stupid signs in Texas.

‘Drive clean across Texas’

‘Don’t mess with Texas’

What?  Don’t mess with Texas?  Who are you talking to?  Will Osama bin Laden be traveling on this highway?  Asshole Texas sign.

We then thought of the remaining 30 miles we had to go into the wind.  Ugh.  We hit mile 70, and I was dead.  We had to stop at a gas station.  My legs didn’t cooperate.  My nonchalant attitude I previously had was gone.  I was left with the attitude of a 3 year old.  Whiny and stomping my feet.  Arms crossed not wanting to go anywhere.  After sitting in an ant bed, I felt it was time to go.  Get this shit over with.  We had 15 miles to go.

We stopped by a railroad when we hit our 1,000 miles traveled mark.  What a boring place for a 1,000 mile mark.  We made the best of it, and we held up our fingers to make a 1,000.

We’re idiots.  According to our hand signs, we traveled one mile.

And one more for the celebration.

welcome to beaumont, home to one entrance…via interstate

We had to enter Beaumont on an interstate.  There was no alternative.  Retarded.  We figured the interstate would have a big enough shoulder, so what the hell.  At least it was beautiful scenery.

There’s not much to say about Beaumont.  It’s an oil town with a bunch of railroad tracks.

welcome to…um…not really

We had gone 84 miles, and I was ready for a warm welcome to Beaumont.  We didn’t get it.

We pulled up to the home of Michelle, our Beaumont host from couch surfing.  A guy opens the door.  He doesn’t look happy.

“Couch surfers?  Come in.  You can put your bikes in the back.”

He disappeared into the darkness of the house.  No introduction.  No ‘how are you’.  Eoin and I looked at each other.  We didn’t know what to make of it, but it sure wasn’t welcoming.  What the hell?  I didn’t need this after such a long day.  We wheeled our bikes to the back, unsure of where to put them.

meet me at the burrito place

We called Michelle and asked her where she was.  Earlier, she had sent us a text that said ‘meet me at the burrito place’.  OK – we got it.  The burrito place.  Is this the one in Beaumont?  Is the name of the restaurant ‘The Burrito Place’?  How about some directions to the place?  Generic text.  No context.  Hey, my birthday is the 1980s, Michelle.  My name is four letters.  Thanks.

Michelle informs us that the guy we had spoken to was her live-in boyfriend.  Damon.  We learned his name over the phone.  We let Damon know we were headed to the burrito place, and he decided to come along.  He probably wanted us to buy him a burrito.

The burrito place was a small Mexican restaurant that served burritos and rented out DVDs.  Weird combination.  I’m thinking of opening a bakery that sells automobiles.  Michelle loved it.  We spoke to Damon a while, and Eoin asked him what he did.  He said RN.  “What is that?”  Registered nurse.  He didn’t want to say nurse.  He was embarrassed of his title.  Asshole cocky Damon didn’t want to say he was a nurse.  Poetic justice, kind of.

we got used for desserts

After the burrito place, Eoin and I sat in the living room for a few hours.  Damon and Michelle went into their bedroom.  Damon had been complaining that he couldn’t go to sleep.  We just sat on the futon.  No TV.  No books.  We looked at an atlas.  We asked Michelle where the nearest grocery store was.  She told us she’d go with us in an hour.  That was an hour ago.  We didn’t want to knock on their door.  Was he asleep?  Was she giving him pleasure?  What was going on in there?

She finally popped out, and we headed to the grocery store.  Eoin and I wanted to celebrate our 1k mile mark.  We bought brownies, cookies, ice cream, and cinnamon buns.  It was going to be a feast of junk food.  We were going to be thin, fit cyclists with rotting teeth.

During our drive back, Michelle let us know that Damon disliked courch surfers.  However, that didn’t stop Damon from couch surfing with someone in central Texas for a month when they had to evacuate for Hurricane Ike.  This asshole was a hypocrite.  And Michelle said it without self-censorship.  Was she that vapid?  Did things slip out that easily?  Evidently, yes.  She then said, “If you guys heard anything weird, it was me giving a massage to Damon.  He was moaning.”  Bullshit.  You were not giving him a massage for two hours.  Your hands would have fallen off.  You would be driving this vehicle with your stubby, handless wrists.

gay baker guys

We baked up a storm.  Michelle retreated to the room.  Damon was still awake, crying that he can’t go to sleep.  It might help if you turn off the light, idiot.  And turn off that shitty music.

We tried to be quiet.  We feared waking up the dragon.

Pouring water is very loud.

We pigged out.  We were schoolgirls in the kitchen giggling and baking on a sugar high.  Stupid jokes and stupid laughter.  It lasted for about 15 minutes.  I heard a noise to my left.  Damon popped out of the bedroom.  He was wearing women’s panties.  WHAT?  What was going on in there?  I let Eoin know.  He had to leave the room because he was about to burst with laughter.  I was choking on cookies.

A few minutes later, we felt sick.  No big dinner.  Just dessert.  We were disgusting.  Guess who popped out a few minutes later.  It was Damon and Michelle.  They came to feast on our baked goods.  They said a few words like “Ohhhh” and “Yummmm”.  They pigged out and went back into their room.  We’re good for one thing:  sweet treats.  They didn’t want anything else to do with us.

Whatever.  Eoin read a book about vagabonding, and I watched him read.  I watched him fall asleep.  I watched him sleep.

I was happy we had a place to sleep.

note:  I’m pretty harsh on Michelle and Damon.  Damon deserved it.  Michelle was nice to us.  I feel that if Damon wasn’t around, we would have had a much better time.