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| Shreveport, LA |
Long after the thrill of riding is gone. I'm so done with bicycling. My heart is five steps ahead of my feet. Mentally, emotionally I have already finished my trip.
My interests are transitioning to literature. I want to see other unexplored journeys. Bandits of the Marsh adventures.
Bicycle repairs increase in frequency and urgency. Something goes wrong and my traveling machine is in pieces on the ground. Once more, I take it apart to coax sense into it. I just fixed you, bike, come on.
Truant brake pads leave their posts. They either have no stopping capabilities or noisily rub the rotors.
The crank arm wobbles on its axle and slips the threads on the bottom bracket. The rear wheel axle breaks in half (!) and the cassette rocks unsteadily. Cable holding the gear shifter has enough and snaps, leaving me spinning powerlessly on lowest gear. Augggh! I had enough.
This is not freedom. There is no motivation. I've made it back to civilization. The obstacles here are mundane. The cities look familiar. Repetitive.
Only 800 miles left to go. Almost there.
Whoa you're nearly back to the east coast! You will have to retire that bike to the hall of fame when you're done.
ReplyDeleteDo you know anyone in Savannah to take my bike? I'm considering unloading it on the first homeless guy I see, so I don't have to pay for storage or driving back to pick it up.
DeleteAren't you and your bike soulmates by now? Or is it a bad college roommate you never care to see again?
ReplyDeleteI'm more of a cat person. This bike is a dog.
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