RT66 Day 9: Virtually a Rest Day...
Finishing the last 20mi into Gallup this morning while I still have the SAG wagon. It was cooler with far less wind than yesterday afternoon. Uneventful except for some mud flinging...
Don’t be deceived, the red dirt becomes mud, clogs up your brakes and gears and splatters everywhere!
One of the guilty pleasures of biking so much is listening to audiobooks. I suppose people with long commutes can do this too, but I end up listening for five or six hours a day sometimes. The book I finished on this stretch was called The Women by Kristin Hannah, about a nurse who serves during the Vietnam War. I won’t give it away, but it’s both powerful and informative.
Today I rode 20 miles from the Winfield Trading Company, just north of Sagar, into Gallup. The weather on this stretch has been mild. I anticipate that as we move through Arizona and into the Mojave Desert, it will heat up. I’m still very worried about the long Needles-to-Ludlow day, but instead of obsessing over it, I’ve accepted that what will be, will be, and Sara and I will just have to tough it out. She is the best person to tough things out with, too.
Now that half the trip is over, as of tomorrow, what will the second half be like? What will Dan’s vibe be like? After him, I’ll have two nights alone, and then Sara arrives. It’s been interesting having different people join me. For the most part, it’s nice to have company, especially after a long day of riding.
My dad is leaving tomorrow. I’m sad that he is going and worried about his drive home. I know that I can’t be too emotional because he might rally to stay, which wouldn’t be in his best interest. I’m honestly so proud that he actually came. He’s a bit of a recluse. He rarely leaves the house and always says that he wants today to be like yesterday and tomorrow to be like today. Not exactly the type of person who bounces into a car and drives 600 miles to pick his daughter up from the airport to start a wacky bike ride. Or is he?
My mother often blames my father for my adventurous streak. He raised me on adventure stories, novels, and movies. Whenever we were in the car for more than ten minutes, he’d ask me what the one item I’d want to have in a plane crash would be — you know, à la Hatchet. We would go over lists of items and prioritize them. I think it even inspired my favorite first-date question: what would your apocalypse dream home be like? You’d first have to specify the type of apocalypse, the terrain around your house, and what the key defensive features would be.
A tribute to my brother who made sure I never got too girly…
Ironically, my aunt gave me a Barbie Dream Kitchen when I was a kid, but my parents refused to buy me Barbies. So my brother and I would attack the kitchen with G.I. Joes. I suppose it fits, having a first-date question involve a “dream home” for a bunch of zombies to attack.
He raised me to believe in myself, prepare like crazy, think of contingencies, and then think of more. Not to let my guard down even when the adventure was almost over, because carelessness is the root of many mistakes. I loved camping, hiking, biking — really, pushing beyond the accepted boundaries of what is reasonable. These instincts were inspired by the adventure stories he shared about his past in China and Taiwan, or his dreams as a young man to see the American frontier.
In 2009, when I first toyed with the idea that I’d ride U.S. Route 66 and eventually went from Chicago back to New York City, he drove to meet me in Ohio. At every rest stop, he’d have his handy propane stove out, cooking noodles with sauce my mother had made and sent with him. During this time, I saw a billboard of Dick Hoyt, the father who used to run marathons while pushing his son in a wheelchair. My dad is less athletically inclined, but the love is the same.
So when my dad, now 85, decided he wanted to come, I was excited by the prospect of having a reprise of a father-daughter adventure together. However, I was also hesitant because, well, he’s 85, and he’d be driving at least 2,500 miles. It’s a bit much for someone who rarely leaves the house.
Now, 1,200 miles from home, he’s got a fever and has three days of driving ahead. So we’ve decided that it’s best he rest today and leave tomorrow, even though the plan was for him to stay with us one more night in Holbrook. However, if he’s feeling strong, he’ll drive out tomorrow and try to make it to El Paso, then San Antonio, then Houston. Cross your fingers nothing happens between here and Holbrook where we’d need a rescue car!
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…