Sanity Check

I’m actually a day behind as I write this. I got all screwed up when my original Roll Tide post didn’t get saved. I even had some good stuff in there about local politics and Baptist churches, but I’ll save that for another time.

Today is about luck. Pure dumb luck. After the hero ride to Tuscaloser on Wednesday I had made up the day off I had unexpectedly taken back in Springfield, MO and I was on track to meet up with my Rice friends near Mobile by tonight. On track if, and only if, I could pull off back-to-back 95 mile days on the heels of the 118 mile day. And then, they’d only have to drive about 35 miles to meet me. It took me about 10 minutes into my ride yesterday to realize that the whole plan was in trouble. After another hour, and an early pit stop, I was

pretty much toast. At least up until that point, I had a decent shoulder to ride on, but shortly after the stop, the shoulder became the dreaded rumble strip on a narrow 2-lane with a substantial amount of truck traffic, much of it logging trucks. I made it about 2 miles and just laid my bike down on the side of the road waiting for someone to stop and give me a ride - anywhere. Nobody did, so I rode a few more miles to Havana Junction, AL. This is where the reality of where I was hit me smack in the face. I stopped at a little store, bought a drink, and then was sitting at a little table inside when I overheard this conversation (spoken by a young woman, roughly 15 years old by my guess - not in school on a Thursday morning)

”My little sister is 5. My niece is also 5. My mama and my older sister were pregnant at the same time. The only difference between her pregnancy and mine was that Mama isn’t pregnant again”.

Welcome to Alabama.

I had to get out of there before the 3-eyed man with 12 fingers came in. I certainly believed it was possible.

I rode on for another 12 miles or so, only stopping twice more to wait for rides that never came and continuing to fear for my life every time a truck came down the road. Enter Dan McCormack. A few of you that read this might know Dan from his Rice days. He was actually the first person I met at Rice when I was still a senior in HS and was down for a weekend visit. Dan and his cronies plied me with enough alcohol over the next couple days to convince me that Rice was definitely the place for me! I haven’t seen or been in touch with Dan in probably close to 30 years. Here is the string of events that occurred:

Another Rice friend saw a post about the trip on Facebook and mentioned it to Dan. Dan signed up for this blog. Dan saw my planned route and sent me a message that he was going to be in Alabama this week. He was in Selma when I was in Tuscaloser. He was

heading to Mobile on Thursday but would try to meet up with me for lunch in a place called Uniontown. I got Dan’s number and texted him Thursday telling him I was struggling and wasn’t going to make it. He changed his plan and circled back to Greensboro right as I was pulling into town. We sat and had lunch for about 45 minutes or so. He then offered me a ride down to Mobile. This was only possible because the rental car company had screwed up his reservation and given him a small SUV instead of a car. We spent the next couple hours driving and chatting like we saw each other every month, not every 3 decades.

It was during this ride that I had my “Come to Jesus” meeting with myself. The chances of me successfully getting to Boston by the end of May without another day off were zero. I was physically exhausted and sore. The chances of me getting killed by passing traffic were substantially greater than zero. I literally have no margin for error on some of these roads. The existence of the rumble strips changes the calculus on everything. These same types of

roads that we were on in 1988 didn’t have them. I didn’t count on them at all when I was contemplating this and considering the potential issues or hazards. I spoke previously about being nimble. My goal is to ride in every state and stay at least one night in that state. What I figured is that my bike fits neatly in the back of a small SUV. Rather than connecting the dots from town to town like I have been so far, I’m going to forgo that for the next 4 states - FL, GA, SC, NC. I will still ride and stay in each state, per my goal, but I have found some 40-50 mile rides in each of those states that are scenic rides (some are rails to trails) and will keep me off the heavily trafficked roads. I intend to keep the SUV until I get to Norfolk, VA next Friday. At that point, it will be roughly 750 miles to Boston and I’ll have 16 days to do it, so less than 50 miles per day. This strategy will still hit all the states, but hopefully provide safer riding and not as much wear and tear on my legs (and butt😳).

With this new plan in place, I picked up the rental car in Pensacola today, dropped my bike off for a quick tune-up at a local bike store, and then headed down to the beautiful home of another Rice friend I haven’t seen in forever, Doug Allen. The aforementioned Dan was staying with Doug and his wife, Julie, in Magnolia Springs. Their home is on an inlet off Mobile Bay and was exceeded only by their hospitality. The tornado warning from this morning had passed (only 1 touched down a few miles west of the hotel 😬) and it was a great afternoon and evening.

Nothing says we love our children like slowing down to 55 in the school zone

Me and Dan after he dropped me off Thursday afternoon

You thought I was kidding about the tornado. It wiped out a Family Dollar across the bay in Mobile.

Doug, Dan and I on the pontoon boat

Appetizers. I hadn’t eaten anything that good (except hot chicken in Nashville) in weeks. Not pictured: steaks, salad, bread and Blue Bell Vanilla ice cream (with chocolate chips).