A few posts ago, I wrote that the days feel like weeks and the weeks feel like days. I'm not so sure I agree with that anymore. It's more accurate to say that the days feel like weeks and the weeks feel like months. It isn't that this trip is dragging or anything; it's just so hard to keep track of the time and what's happened when you wake up in a different town each morning.
Last night, Chris and I tried to do a recap of where we've stayed each night. By the time we got up to day 14, we already had 2 nights that we couldn't figure out. We've passed through so many towns and have eaten at so many gas stations that you just start to lose track. A few hours will pass and I still have to pause and think about where I woke up or what the last thing I ate was.
We definitely started our day with breakfast at Little Dave's in McDaniels. A few patrons asked where we were riding to and wished us luck. One man finished his meal, folded his newspaper under his arm, and walked over to our table; he leaned on the edge and asked if he could look at the check on our table. When he picked it up, he smiled and welcomed us to the community and walked away. He didn't realize that Chris and I had separate checks and mine wasn't picked up, but that's ok. It was an incredibly nice gesture. Acts like that always surprise me. We're just biking a lot of miles. We voluntarily decided to do this, but everyone we meet wants to help us as much in any way possible.
With the threat of rain looming over us the entire ride, we didn't make many stops on our way to Utica. The one exception was when we crossed paths with a biker on the east bound route. At this point, I don't think I need to clarify what direction the bikers we meet are going. With the exception of one family that we met on the first day, every person we've seen has been going east bound; although west-east is the traditional route, I still expected to come across at least one other person going our way. He needed a spare tube and we needed some air in our tires, so we exchanged some gear with our pleasantries. Contrary to every eastern bound cyclist we met in Virginia, he thought the hills of Virginia would be one of the easier parts of the trip. He decided to hitchhike over the ozarks (our next tough mountain range), so I hope he doesn't underestimate the rest of his trip.
We are spending the night in a volunteer fire department. They have couches, air conditioning, laundry machines, a shower, and a tv with a vcr; this is the life. The options for vhs tapes were limited, but we went with Woody Allen's "Deconstructing Harry." Neither of us had watched any of his films, so we figured we'd see what everyone was talking about. It wasn't at all what I was expecting, but I enjoyed it. It was crude, odd, and honestly pretty funny.
Due to the recent storms and flooding, the firefighters are currently having a "Swift Water Rescue" lesson. Hopefully I'll never need to know any of this information, but it's definitely interesting. The biggest takeaway I have is to just avoid floods; don't even go near them.
The lesson is about to wrap up. I just found MIB on vhs and am about to make chef boyardi ravioli for second dinner. Not too bad of a way to end the day.