Saturday, June 4th
A lot of my interactions with people during any given day happen outside gas stations, usually when i’m drinking the $1-2 coffee i’ve just bought there. These usually go something like: “Where are ya headed?”, “Vancouver” “Wow, that’s a long way”, “I know!”, “How long’s that going to take ya?” etc.. Sometimes people linger a bit longer, and dig a little deeper, curious how I support myself, where I sleep, how old I am, and where i’m from.
Today I stopped at a gas station, ‘Casey’s General Store’ about 20-30 miles from the Indiana/Illinois border. I was heading to Chicago where I was going to stay with John, another ex-colleague of mine, for a couple of days. This particular gas station seemed to attract more inquisitive, deranged people than was normal. Perhaps it was the rain which drew them there. It had been constant and heavy for the last half an hour and would continue for another two or three.
There was one guy who stuck around longer than others. He was cycling to the lake to fish and had parked his bike by the petrol pumps. He wore a cap and chain smoked as he interjected the conversation with questions like “Do you know who Neil Diamond is?”, and then impressions of Johnny Cash and Elvis. It was at this time I met another cyclist, Lech, a 61-year old professor at the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Illinois in Chicago. He took part in the sport of randonneuring – essentially very long distance cycling, rides which lasted for hundreds or thousands of kilometres and several nights and days.
He was heading back to Chicago so I followed him in the rain.
I had started the day at 5.00 am. Getting up in the dark in my tent, showering at the campsite, and cycling out of the state park by 6. I had over 100 miles to Chicago and couldn’t waste time. I didn’t get a lot for my $32 spent at the park.
Really up until the gas station the day was uneventful and all about just making up the distance. The cycle from the campsite to the exit of the park was more memorable, the sun was still rising over one of the swampy lakes, the roads were completely quiet and I liked the feeling of being up that early with a whole day waiting ahead of me.
I covered 25 miles by 8am. And 50 by 12.30 where I stopped in the town of Chesterton. I got a coffee at McDonalds and tried to use their free wi-fi to sync some more podcasts, but it was a poor connection so I went to Dunkin’ Doughnuts instead, just over the road. There were a few diners in town which I would have liked to check out but I wasn’t in the mood to hang around.
The 20 miles between there and the gas station were spent mostly cycle tracks which passed through suburbs, over rivers and highways. A few drops of rain started to fall. Back on the road again, as I stopped at Casey’s General Store, it began to fall heavily.
After the pause for coffee and the conversation with strangers, I followed Lech through the downpour. He set a fast pace, which was good, as the 100+ mile target I had set myself started to feel hard to reach. At some point we would have crossed the Indiana / Illinois border, but I was going to fast and the rain was too heavy to notice.
We stopped at another gas station after 15 miles or so. It was after this things started to go wrong.
My back wheel started squirming. It was another puncture. Before I knew it Lech had my tire off and was replacing the tube i’d dug out my pannier. We set off again but in less than a few minutes it was flat again. I flipped the bike upside down and took everything off. This time there was an obvious sign of puncture. The tyres seemed worn and there was a small piece of rock or something which had gone through. I put duct tape inside the tyre in case something else got through in that spot.
We carried on, I was cautious and cycled slower now. A lot of the route was on cycle track still, and the rain eased up.
Soon enough we reached the Lake Shore Road, a long bike and pedestrian path which wound around the water all alongside the city. The skyline came into focus and the sun came out and for a moment everything was great.
I stopped to take of photo of the city, got back on my bike, then the chain snapped. I mind exploded for a millisecond. But when something like this goes wrong there isn’t really the opportunity to wallow in anger or bitterness, very quickly you switch to thinking about how you can fix the problem. At least I was close to the city, 15 miles from John’s house, and not in the middle of a field in Ohio.
I managed to take a link out, and rejoin it. It snapped again. My hands were black with the oil which I managed to remove a little of on the grass clippings at the side of the path. I took more links out and got back on. I decided I wouldn’t change gear, i’d cycle incredibly slowly, and I’d push the bike up even the smallest slope so as not to put pressure on the weakened link.
This was how I continued all the way to John’s house in Andersonville, North Chicago. One advantage of cycling slowly was being able to take everything in around me. It seemed like an attractive, neat city. Kind of like New York if you bleached it clean. Parks and beaches stretched most of the way along the water. I was happy to be back in a metropolis after days amongst farms.
I’d forgotten about the time zone i’d passed through, so I got to John’s more or less when I planned to despite the setback. His place was big and light and airy. A lot more space than New York or London.
I have a shower and go out for pizza with him and his fiancé Katie. 110 miles, two inner tubes, and one chain. My first stop tomorrow would be the bike shop.
Map
