DAY FIVE: Hastings Inn to The Newlywed's New Apartment

January 21, 2024

Wind Like You Wouldn't Believe

Doris and G-2 luxuriated in their humble honeymoon motel room all morning. They slept in, they rode their bikes on the carpet and the bed, they drank coffee, they literally immersed themselves into a bag of beautiful orange Cheetoes, and they watched cartoons right up until checkout time. No happier couple has ever lived.

That last sentence was partially verified by the owner of the motel. His exact quote was, "in my seventeen years here, I have never had happier, more in love, cartoon guests than those two."

G-2 and Doris laughed so hard that they spewed coffee on each other when Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble signed up for the military by mistake. Who wouldn't?

The clock ticked inexorably to the hour of 11:00 a.m. That was when they could no longer hide out from the winds building up outside their door. They weren't afraid of the 16-degree (F) air, though it was a little warm for their taste. But they did fear the 20-30 mile per hour winds.

Keep in mind that 20-30 miles-per-hour to a paper cartoon character is like 350-525 miles per hour winds to an average human. Actually, the ratio is even worse than that, considering G-2 and Doris' body weight is about 1/4000th of the weight of their human counterparts. In other words, to them, the wind was more powerful than any hurricane or tornado could ever dream of generating.

It was hard to stay upright while posing for pictures, and it was even more difficult to keep from getting blown over while pedaling. They persevered anyway. They did their best to document the final day of their bike tour.

In the first mile, they came face to face with danger. It was a big ball being blown toward them by the wind. They felt like bowling pins with a heavy pink bowling ball heading straight for their heads.

They thanked their lucky stars that they managed to swerve around that thing. It's hard to think of anything much more ignominious in the Cycleblaze world than having to end a tour due to getting flattened by a pink bowling ball rolling down the alley of a city street.

************

G-2 was ready to go home, but Doris was keen to defy the winds and check out some ruins--specifically--burned-out ruins. Everybody likes to check out burned buildings, right?

The first one was a failing creamery that caught on fire last summer under mysterious circumstances. The second one was a flour mill that caught on fire about 100-years ago--also mysteriously--I might add.

While riding up the hill from the old burnt out ruin, G-2 noticed his front derailleur was frozen. Or was it the shifter? Or was it the cable? Or something else? Whatever it was, he could still shift up to the next chain ring, but if he wanted to shift down to a smaller one, he had to take his foot off the right pedal and kick the derailleur to move the chain to its desired position.

It was inconvenient, but nothing he couldn't handle. Come to think of it, he feels ashamed to have mentioned such a minor irritation at all. Considering the big picture of all possible bicycle malfunctions, a partially functioning front derailleur cannot be compared to something like a collapsed wheel or a broken frame. [Don't go thinking the failed front derailleur afflicted The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong. No way. I'm just a ghost writer here. None of this relates to me or my bike.]

All of Doris' gears were still working during this section of off-road riding. The same cannot be said for G-2's.

The wind sucked. The wind was a horrible bitch-dog. Doris and G-2 decided it was time to go home. HOME, they agreed, would be Doris' bookshelf apartment. And that's where this story ends--except for the conclusion coming on the next page.

Doris and G-2, after moving into their new living quarters.

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Today's ride: 5 miles (8 km)
Total: 95 miles (153 km)

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