Atlantic Coast Bicycle Trip
After an hour of rest, water, and a peanut butter sandwich, I was
back on the highway, pedaling up the west side of the Hudson River. I
could barely believe that I had survived. The farther north I went,
the better it got. Unfortunately, while biking up the beautiful Hudson
River Valley, I had a flat tire. I fixed it only to have a blow out a
short time later. I had to hitchhike twenty miles into Nyack, N.Y.
where I bought a new tire and tube. After fixing the tire and getting
back on the highway I came upon a lake complete with swans, ducks, and
geese. It was a “no camping lake,” but I was getting pretty good at
watching out for the people who watched out for me, so under the cover
of darkness I set up my tent, and collapsed on my sleeping bag. I was
a very, very, tired body.
In the morning, I went back to pedaling up the Hudson, and after
crossing over Bear Mountain Bridge, I found myself in the woodsy
rolling hills of Connecticut. There were no long highways to get me
across the state. I had to piece together my route using a patchwork
of about twenty roads. Actually, it turned out to be a nice way to go.
There were a lot of hills, and the ride was peaceful, quiet, and
beautiful, even though I was traveling along country roads that were
not your typical country roads; $100,000 homes were everywhere. I
guess it was the kind of country where “Mom’s apple pie” was the
I met Frank yesterday. We were both being ferried across a river, and
we were both on bicycles. He was into speed biking. He would take
frequent twenty-mile bicycle trips and try to go faster each time. We
traveled the next thirty miles together. In fact, I camped that night
in the backyard of one of those $100,000 houses—his parent’s place.
That’s where I met his brother, Jeff. He worked at a bike shop, and he
gave me a biking cap and a biking t-shirt. He also lubricated my chain
and running gear. The whole family was really nice. I had two hot
meals and a shower–meeting people like that made all the “bad stuff”