Just Another Bike Ride Across America

Today, we got buzzed so closely by a semi that we both went off the road, and then some nice people gave us free fruit, and then a guy in a Jeep honked at me and yelled “F#%* yeah!” So it was kind of a mixed bag of emotions.

I don’t know what it is about truck drivers carrying wood chips to the Georgia Pacific plywood plant in Bon Wier, Texas, but I know four of them passed me in the past three days and left about three feet of air between me and a headstone. Two of them were today, just as we were about to leave Texas. Thanks, guys, appreciate it.
Keep reading →

Yesterday, during a break in traffic on the Road From Hell, a 100-pound rottweiler came busting out of someone’s front yard, running at me like I had just caught a pass over the middle.

I rather dislike getting chased by barking dogs, especially when there’s a lot of traffic. I found out yesterday that I like barking dogs more than stocky Rottweilers who do not bark. Not barking is way worse. It’s like they’re not even trying to scare you or let you know that you’re on their turf. It’s like they want to eat you.

And today, I found out the only thing I like less than getting chased by a non-barking 100-pound Rottweiler is getting chased by a non-barking 100-pound Rottweiler while I’m pedaling uphill. Jesus Christ, some days I wish dogs understood what bicycles were.
Keep reading →

I walked into the Shell convenience store at the east end of Navasota, Texas, this morning to hear Tony saying to the clerk, “Did you just say ‘Chuck Norris’s ranch’?”

Oh yeah, she said. Ranger Walker? Yeah, his ranch is just over the bridge on 90, and you’ll see the sign that says “Lone Wolf Ranch.”
Keep reading →

Well, I made it more than 1,500 miles before a passing motorist finally threw something at me. The good news was they threw three objects at me and only hit me twice. And the objects were all bite-size powdered donuts. And the thrower was Mitsu.

You make a couple “Yeah, and then you guys could just keep driving by and throwing donuts at us” jokes, and some people aren’t going to let it go.

Keep reading →

Hey James, I thought east Texas was going to be flat?

What a great couple of days in Texas. I got to ride my unencumbered bike all around Austin with my pal Russell. I replaced a bunch of parts that needed fixing after 1,500 miles. I got the 1985 Raleigh Team USA worked on by a great guy who’s actually a mechanic for Team USA.

Seth Mazow of YearOfThePizza.com bought me a solid pizza at Home Slice and provided great conversation about all kinds of things, including his strategy for keeping his hand on an eggplant sub sandwich for 31 straight hours, which won him a year of free pizza. We’re honored to be featured on his blog this week, as part of his yearlong series of interviews with intriguing folks in Austin.

Keep reading →

At about 1:30 p.m. today, I turned from Barton Springs Road onto Congress Avenue in Austin, got a face full of tall buildings and was riding in 6 lanes of traffic. I felt like I was home in Denver again, complete with some fashionable dude on a fixie riding towards me.

I felt like a sailor pulling into port, after 14 straight days of riding, and looking forward to a rest day in Austin tomorrow (except, of course, I have to find someone to look at, and possibly replace my bottom bracket since it’s making noise).

We stopped at Mellow Johnny’s, Lance Armstrong’s bike shop, so I could pick up a new cassette, chain, an extra tire and some new brake pads, and Chad was welcoming enough to give me the “super touring discount” and let me reassemble my bike in the outdoor seating area of the coffee shop there.

Keep reading →

Eight years ago yesterday, I woke up in a holding cell in the Black Hawk County Jail in Waterloo, Iowa. I had been arrested for drunk driving for the second time in less than a year. What happened after that day was a sort of forced reinvention, starting with court-ordered substance abuse treatment and a short jail sentence, then moving out West to Montana, where I eventually made my way into the mountains to see what was up there.

Keep reading →

Guy outside gas station in Uvalde this morning: Where y’all headed?
Me: Florida.
Guy: Yeah?
Me: Yeah, it’s a long ride.
Guy: I can’t believe that big guy over there can even ride a bicycle! Look how tall he is!
Me: Yup, he’s a lot faster than me.

And then we started what would turn out to be an 88-mile day into downtown San Antonio. After about 40 miles, we stopped in a cafe in Hondo for lunch, and Tony finally got to ask someone else how tall they were: A 6′10″ Texas Ranger. They had a short conversation, and Tony will always regret not asking to get his photo taken with the ranger.

Keep reading →

I was ready for anything today, including headwinds, rain, flat tires, cramps, maybe a guy riding alongside me hitting me in the crotch with a wiffle ball bat for the entire 85 miles, whatever.

But the first 30 miles went by with a tailwind gently pushing me all the way to Bracketville, and who should I run into but Craig and Cathy, just walking down the road towards me on their rest day. They’re also doing the Southern Tier, but in the opposite directionIn the course of our chat, Craig said, Hey, you ought to just keep going with this tailwind all the way to Uvalde, instead of riding into it for your last 20 miles into Camp Wood — the road to which, by the way, being curvy, narrow and hilly.

Well, Craig, that’s the best idea I’ve heard in days. So when I finally found Tony at Daddy’s Grill in Bracketville, we amended our route again and decided to head to Uvalde, off the Adventure Cycling Route. And tomorrow, what the hell, we’re going to ride into San Antonio, shaving a couple miles off our route to Austin. I don’t really care where we go, as long as I get to the ocean around March 29th.

Keep reading →

I parked my bike at the campground in Langtry last night thinking, Well, that kind of sucked. Tomorrow will be better.

Then the wind blew at about 25 mph all night, blowing the tent walls against my head and howling through the decaying buildings surrounding us. When we left the Judge Roy Bean Museum this morning [DAD: Judge Roy Bean did not name Langtry after Lillie Langtry, although he told her that in letters. He also never actually met Lillie Langtry.], the wind was in our face at 30 mph.

But we pedaled. I was in my granny gear on the uphills, then on the flats, and on some of the downhills, I could shift one or two gears up. That was it. That Mother Nature, she is a bitch sometimes.

Keep reading →