October 22, 2021
no such thing as bad weather, the texans, chef's delivery
Day Fourteen: Duck River to Nashville
I woke up at 4:45, but drifted back off until 7:45. I’m not sure why I always insert what time I wake up. It’s not vital, and not even an interesting part of the “biking.” Maybe I don’t know what else to write.
As usual, it was soaking wet outside. Knowing this was my last bit of camping for a while I hung out in the tent longer than usual. Eventually, I overcame my morning inertia and started packing everything up, again getting it all into pannier bags before unzipping the door of the tent for the first time today.
45 degrees remained comfortable since I brought warm clothes. As the saying goes, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing.” I had pulled this morning's clothing out last night so they'd be at hand, then this morning pulled them inside my sleeping bag to warm them up before putting them on.
When I first started this trip I used a google doc to help me locate where all of my gear is. It listed the bag (front right, front left, rear right, rear left) and everything in it. I even put the list in the order of where it is in the bag. The top of the list is in the top of the bag and the bottom of the list is buried deep at the bottom. However, as mentioned previously, every time I pack my panniers the list changes. I’ve been rearranging things by shape, and have more space with each meal I eat. I’m even able to pack my sleeping bag into a pannier. Of course, I now keep my tire pump on the outside, strapped to the rack instead of in a bag. The list was helpful, but it’s just easier to find things now.
Once packed, I climbed out of the tent, shook all the water off the rainfly, and packed the tent, rainfly, and ground cloth (aka “footprint”) into the tent bag, knowing I’ll need to dry them out at the hotel tonight. When I start loading everything onto the racks, I stopped and stared….
...my rear tire is flat.
I’m a little dumbfounded. Everything was changed out. There's a new tube, a new tire, a new rim strip. And it was put on by a professional, not just some schmuck who likes to ride his bike. There’s just no reason for it to be flat. I took a minute trying to collect my thoughts, but couldn't find any (not unusual for a guy like me - those things are rare).
Not sure what to do, I texted Philip Martindale, the bike mechanic: “FYI, I woke up to a flat tire this morning.” I wasn’t surprised when he said he was at a loss since we replaced everything yesterday.
I pumped up the tire, unsure if it would even hold air. It did, and I walked my bike back to the road and started pedaling. Maybe it’ll last 25 miles again like it did yesterday.
3.4 miles later, I pumped it up again and started riding.
At this point, it seems like I wouldn’t be having much fun. Paradoxically, tooling along on the NTP at a snail’s pace on my skinny high-performance rear tire, waiting for my tube to deflate, I realized that I was, in that moment, really, really enjoying myself. I’m happy, in its simplest form.
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I start doing some calculations and decide that if I have to pump it up every four miles, that’s 17 stops for my 50-mile day. Absolutely… I’ll just pump it up when I need to. Besides, with this smaller tire, it’s only about 30 pumps to fill it up instead of 150, so it doesn’t take as long.
One mile later, my tire is flat. Well? Once every mile? Fine. I’ll stop every mile to pump it up, enjoying the scenery as I go…. pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump, pump… I’m back in the saddle.
A hundred yards down the road, my tire is flat. Not low, but flat.
A hundred yards. I don't mind pumping it up, but every 100 yards?
I consider my options. I could put in another tube, but based on what’s been happening it just won’t help. I could call a bike shop and take it in to determine the issue, but my end point is Nashville so there’s not really enough time. If this had happened early in the trip (and thank the bicycling gods it didn’t) then that’s exactly what I would’ve done.
Having considered my options I come to the dawning realization that, as of where I'm standing right now, a few minutes before 11AM, my trip is over.
I let that sink in, then pulled out my phone to find out how much an Uber will cost to pick me up and drive an hour into Nashville. $300? $350? I was surprised to find out it was only $65.00. Since I didn't want my pick up destination to be “on the side of the road,” (there are no shoulders on the Trace) I started walking my bike back to the Water Valley Overlook, which was about 100 yards behind me. This would allow the driver to pull off the road to pick me up.
Less than sixty seconds later, a cyclist heading in the same direction (away from Nashville) pulled over and asked if everything was okay. He looked to be in his early seventies, in good condition and riding a sleek matte-black bicycle that could likely triple my speed. I explained my situation and we both just laughed… “yeah, I’m not gonna be able to help with that.” Noting that he was coming from Nashville (and assuming he lived there), I asked if he knew of anyone who could take me there, adding that, of course I’d be willing to pay them. He squinted as he looked up at the sky like he was doing some mental calculations and started talking to himself. It wasn’t very audible, but I heard the words, “I could move…” and “put in the back seat.” Then he pulled out his phone and called his wife. “There’s a gentleman here who needs a ride to Nashville. Can you come pick us up?” (I laughed at the word "gentleman." NO one who saw me now would describe my scraggly ass as "gentlemanly.") He told her where we were then we introduced ourselves, after which he sprinted on up the road to the Overlook so he could use the restroom before she arrived. Literally 90 seconds later a truck pulled into the entrance and I eventually finished my Long Walk of Deflation where I met Sheryl, his wife. They have an extended cab truck and he started moving things around to make room for my bike and gear, some of which went into the back seat with me.
During the hour-long ride to Nashville I learned that Keith and Sheryl are NOT from Nashville. They actually live in Tyler, Texas, and have been on vacation seeing some relatives and visiting the Ark Encounter and the Creation Museum. He takes his bike when they travel, and had just about finished his morning ride on the beautiful Natchez Trace Parkway when he came across me on the side of the road. Although they’re on their way back home they decided to turn around, take me to my hotel in Nashville, then head back to Texas. That’s at least two hours of their lives they won’t be able to get back.
Keith worked for Interstate Battery before retiring a few years ago. They asked the usual questions and we talked some more about where we’re from. I said “originally Houston,” then realizing they’re Texans, added “actually, Deer Park.” “Oh!” Sheryl said, “We know someone from Deer Park!” Deer Park is a town of 32,000 people, and I haven’t lived there in about 40 years, so I subconsciously rolled my eyes at the phrase I’d heard so many times in my life. It's like, "Oh! You live in New York City, a metroplex of 8 million people? Do you know John Doe?" Then she said, “Do you know Alan Goss?”
Wait. What? Alan? Why, yes I do. Alan and his wife are their best friends. They take vacations together on occasion, and they had just seen them yesterday. I knew Alan when I was growing up, and Sheryl called him while we were in the car. The last time we talked was when I was in high school, about 45 years ago, and we had some catching up to do.
They dropped me off at my hotel and we said our goodbyes, snapping a few pictures before they took off. I can’t believe my good fortune, and their wonderful generosity. I never even learned their last name.
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I had originally planned to take an extra day in Nashville to do some sightseeing, but apparently there are a number of professional sporting events going on this weekend, resulting in even budget motels charging premium prices. It was difficult finding a room for less than $400.00 a night, and I didn’t really want to stay here that badly.
I ordered a pizza for lunch, which was really good, but didn't receive the drink I ordered. When I called I was told that they couldn't refund the cost because it's a third party biller, but the next time I'm at the restaurant to let them know and they'd comp a drink for me. I laughed and told them my situation, that it's unlikely I'd be back in a while and it wasn't a big deal. The man to whom I was talking, the owner, apologized repeatedly.
That evening I decided to just order dinner from the same place and ended up again talking to the owner when I placed my order. He said he'd make sure the drink would be delivered at no cost, and I heard him tell his employees about the order. However, when my food arrived the drink wasn't there. The delivery person said it just wasn't on the order so, more amused than upset, I called and talked to the owner. He was again extremely apologetic. It wasn't really a big deal.... I mainly just wanted to let him know. When I called, what I didn't realized is that this is a man who is really proud of the service his restaurant provides, and he insisted on driving over with the drink from the the restaurant! I told him it wasn't necessary, that he had a business to run and it's not an issue, but apparently it was to him. Wearing his chef's whites, he delivered it himself.
I just realized that there might be more pictures of my tent in a hotel room than while camping. I mainly take them because it’s a little weird setting up a tent inside. I’ll have to correct that on my next trip.
My next trip…. hmmmmmm…… (Mark stares off into space)
4.2 miles
378 feet climbed
20.3% grade (probably the section where I walked my bike out of the campsite)
52:18 total time
29:18 moving time
21.2 mph max speed
8.6 mph average moving speed (some of which was walking)
638.1 total miles
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Eventually, we determined that there were at least two problems, but I'm still not convinced there wasn't something else. The first is the patches. I'll never use the ones with adhesive already on them again, except maybe to tape up temporary birthday decorations or something. The second is that when I replaced a tube there was no air in it when I initially put it in. He suggested having at least a little bit, 2-3 psi, to prevent it from folding. I've always seated the tubes (put the tube/tire on, partially pump it up, deflate it, then pump it up all the way) to prevent folds, but he said that if you just leave a little air in it when it goes in then that isn't necessary. All of that makes sense, but it seems odd that when the traveling bike mechanic put in a new rim strip, tube, and tire, it STILL went flat. I checked for a spoke (or anything) stabbing through the rim strip, as did the bike mechanic on my trip, as did my local bike mechanic, and none of us found anything. And when I say "checked," I mean that I went over it like it was going to cause rectal cancer if I missed it. Whatever the cause, he put on another rim strip and a different tube and it's remained inflated since the end of October, so that's good. However, I still haven't ridden on it, so that's not good.
2 years ago