Dirty Jerz

95 miles of rain from Philly to Newark. Saw a ghetto and saw the Princeton campus. We ate a large dinner followed by a six pack of Klondike Ice Creams.

Newark is a 35 mile ride to NYC, and I tried not to view it as our final destination. I drag this out because I don't want it to end, but I am very excited and focused on getting back on the road again. I like the feeling of momentum. Its empowering to move freely, daily and without pause. I highly suggest bicycle touring as an official national pasttime.

Marie, Ryan and Justin lease a 3,000 sq ft warehouse in Newark Downtown. Its a visual feast and all who dwell there are kind and ready. We arrived at 11PM and were welcomed warmly. Brad chatted to our hosts about bikes, as they all ride. I took a shower in a giant tub set in the kitchen, separated by two layers of clear shower curtain plastic.

I got to know them a little more in the morning. We met them as arranged by our LA friend MikeBikeMike.

Ryan and Marie have toured extensively. They are building MBM's frame. Marie works as an instructor for boat building with kids, and in her sparetime gets involved in sustainable landscaping and gardening. Justin rides the cusp between school and career and dreams big and carefully.

Brad finds his plane. He left at 2PM, October 1st, for Boise, Idaho where he will attend his sister's wedding and visit with his family and Chloe, his wonderful girlfriend who is flying out from LA. He returns to NYC October 8th, until we return to LA via train on Nov 11th. This trip has officially involved trains, planes, and automobiles and bicycles.

Below is a picture of a guerrilla garden we saw on abandoned train tracks in Philly. I wanted to reference it when describing Marie. Here.

Bodymore, Redux

I don't know why, but my blog about Baltimore disappeared. Let's talk about how I can make that up to you.

My friend, how long have you been reading my blog? Are you a long time friend, or did I meet you in a gas station in Utah two months ago? Did we talk about my mileage per day, or my former job, or your childhood? Did I offer you any advice on bikes, touring, or life? Did I let Brad handle our entire exchange? I did!?! Well, that happens a lot.

Brad is the kind of person to talk for hours. Even to himself. He will smile and laugh for any reason he can. He spends hours in a land where only fun trumps logic. He is FUN. I am STORM. Our friend Sexy is DER, but that's another story. I am talking about Baltimore here.

What goes on when FUNderSTORM goes to Baltimore? We make a new lifelong friend, Pierre and sleep in his loft's spare bedroom's side-by-side twin beds, I Love Lucy style. We steam a table full of crabs and listen to FittyCent. We sip Natty Bo, Baltimore's PBR, and listen to really exciting music made by Pierre and a few of his friends and others he likes. We stroll markets of BMore, a signature architecture of this city. Lastly we storm Falls Road for a show we played for 6 party animals on bikes. We are giants. Funderstorm funderstormed Baltimore. Aight?

There, can we agree that everything's ok and you forgive me for getting the previous post deleted? Ok, good! Check out these crabs!

Nicetown

The 120 mile ride from Bodymore to Philly was serious. Very hilly topo but the air was crisp and wet. Eventually soaked and sour. I tried to taste the last sips of the sweetest adventure of my life. I wanted to remember every day and reflect a meaning from them right now.

I wanted to be able to answer the question "So, what was your favorite part of the trip?" in at least twenty different ways. I can. Ask me anytime.

We arrived late. "Late" means that we were behind our eta by six hours. "Arrived" means that we had Jason pick us and fit all all everything all of it into his Protege at 2am instead of riding the last 20 miles. Our bags sat on our trailer. I sat on Brad's lap.

(funny story insert) At the point of pickup, we stopped for Brad to fix a flat. Rain rained everywhere. We found a good 20 covered sq ft under a rusted canopy of an abandoned gas station. In ten minutes three local police squad cars arranged themselves to attack us from all angles. A stereotypical cop with a stereotypical copstache got out of his car and walked towards Brad, ten ft away, making a pumping thrust motion towards the base of the wall. Was he pumping a bomb, sawing a pole, beating a dog? He was pumping his tire. Luckily stereotypical cop was only mildly alarmed and let us roll out to find another canopy under which we'd meet Jason.

The run through Philly was all steak, no cheese. We stayed with my good friend-turned-even-better friend Jason in his many-bedroomed townhome in a many-crimed part of North Philly. If Marcus could move in, Marcus would. I don't know if it was bc I've been on the road for so long, but I attached to J's house and couches like cheez whiz to toast and sliced steak. I should one day propose that. "I want the green couch, the velvety one." My legs give a shout out to you.

We laid low and readied for the things you get ready for at the ends of adventures like these.