Today was a mercifully short 41 miles, but almost all freeway. Tony’s knee has been in pretty bad shape so far, and my chain needed a bath, so it was good to end early. I am remembering how long it has been since we spent a lot of time together, and I laugh when I catch him yelling “7 feet” back through the door at a convenience store, as the cashier has asked him the question, “How tall are you?” as he exited. If I’m standing with him, I like to interrupt and tell people that I’m 5’11”, but no one seems to care. Today, a lady in the Country Store in Brenda said something like, “Well, a 7-footer,” like she had just caught a rare fish or something.
We had two sustained climbs today, on the freeway. I have spent a lot of time looking at the trash off the shoulder on all the roads we’ve ridden, and there’s a lot, which I am not surprised at. Shoes (always one, never two), dozens of half bungee cords, soda bottles, beer cans, pieces of clothing, pieces of wood, bolts, the hood of a car, all manner of shredded tire pieces. The one thing that really surprises me is the number of bottles of urine I see in the ditch. And how dehydrated you poor folks are when you chuck that bottle of pee out the window on the interstate! I mean, it’s incredible. It’s like every 100th car you pass on the interstate must have someone peeing in a bottle in it when you drive by. That’s how many bottles of urine I’ve seen in the past few days.
Tomorrow, we try to make 77 miles to Wickenburg, AZ.