Just Another Bike Ride Across America

State No. 6.

After nearly 2,500 miles of eyeballing passing drivers in my dorky rearview mirror on my helmet, and being constantly vigilant for 7-10 hours of riding every day, I didn’t check one time, and it almost cost me.

We were looking for a left turn onto Progress Road just after crossing Interstate 59 outside of Poplarville, Mississippi, and I had been riding directly on top of the white line on the right side of the road, and it suddenly turned into rumble strips. I was surprised and bounced around for a second before I steered my bike to the left of the line. Then I saw the sign for Progress Road, and started to make a left turn. I am sure I checked my mirror a few seconds beforehand and hadn’t seen anything, but I don’t think I double-checked before I started moving to actually make the turn.

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Hunter with his son at gas station in Norwood, Louisiana: Where y’all headed?
Me: Florida.
Hunter: Well, you ain’t gonna make it there by lunch.

At some point today, I think both of us probably thought we picked the wrong day to schedule a 96-mile ride — it was hilly, a stark contrast to the past few days, and our route wound all over the place, so we could never really latch on to a good tailwind.
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We met Jan about 25 miles into our ride today -- she's riding the other way with her friend Irene driving a support van. Her husband refused to let her bike across America by herself ...

Deckhand on the Melville Ferry, looking at our bikes: Where y’all headed?
Us: Florida.
Deckhand (laughing): F%$# that shit.

I had my tail between my legs after our day of bad juju yesterday, until we stopped at a grocery store in Lebeau, Louisiana, today just before noon. The owner of the store insisted on giving Tony some free Boudain so he could have his first taste of cajun food. After that, it seemed that everyone who came in and out of the store for the next 15 minutes wanted to say hi — a sweet old lady, a guy using the car wash, people stopping in to pick up a can of pork and beans.

The rest of the day, every car that passed us drove all the way into the other lane, people smiled, waved, and chatted us up, the sun shined, the wind was at our backs, babies everywhere stopped crying, complete strangers hugged each other in the streets, and the rivers of Louisiana turned into champagne.

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Wow. The area of western Louisiana that we biked through today is like its own country, where bicycles haven’t been invented yet. I think things started to go downhill when a guy decided he would swerve his car off the highway at Tony, who was standing well off the road. He swerved back, missing Tony’s bike by about a foot, and I guess getting a good laugh out of the whole thing.

Then, about an hour later, I was about a mile behind Tony when some guy in an oncoming pickup decided to throw a fountain soda at me. He missed by about 8 feet, but I was starting to feel like a target.

Me: You know what would have been funny?
Tony: What?
Me: If that guy had thrown the soda at me, and I had pulled out a gun and shot and killed him. Wouldn’t that be funny?
*silence*
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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.
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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.
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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.”
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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.

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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.

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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.

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