Day 1 – You Can't Write This Stuff

You can barely see the dome of the Capital. 

Today was one of those days where, after some time, I suppose I will look back on it and laugh.

My mom dropped me off in front of the Washington Monument this morning. I rode down the mall to the Arlington Memorial bridge which, I crossed and then followed the Mt. Vernon trail south. The Mt. Vernon trail is a paved trail right along the Potomac River. The weather was mostly cloudy with little wind. It has been raining for the last few days in the D.C. area.

I rode along this path for about 8 miles until I noticed the bumps on the path felt harder. I looked at my rear tire and it was flat. My first flat tire ever. I had no idea what to do. I had barely gotten my helmet off when two cyclists stopped and asked if I had everything I needed. I told them I thought I did. They were concerned with that response and I told them I had never gotten a flat tire and had no idea how to fix one. One of the kind gentleman proceeded to do it for me. Explaining the steps along the way. They continued to ask questions about why a cyclist who has never changed a flat tire was carrying so much gear and seeming to be going on a long bike ride. I shared with them my intentions and they gave me a half-hearted good luck. I think they may have doubted my abilities.

Once the tire was off we identified that the tire and tube had a hole in them. Therefore, the tire would have to be replaced also. Not more than a mile back was a bike shop where I could get a tire. So, after they left I went back to the bike shop and now had to replace a tire on my own. Thanks to the lesson I had just receive this was fairly easy. Fantastic! I'm back in business!

I cruised along for quite a bit. I should correct myself and say that the Mt. Vernon trail is mostly paved. There are some boardwalks on it for when the path goes over water. I had ridden nearly 20 miles and was feeling good. Then a gentleman passed me on his bike. Up for the challenge I tried to keep up. The path had twists and turns and was wet. In an effort to chase down this rider, I was cranking it down a small hill on the path. This particular section of the path was covered by trees and was therefore still very wet from the previous days' rain. At the bottom of the hill, the path became a boardwalk and turned slightly to the right and went back up a hill. Where the pavement became wood, I was going right around 18 mph.

I think you all know what happens next. I went down. I went down hard on my side. The tires slipped on the moist wood. I have a gash on my elbow but otherwise I'm fine. I look at my bike. The chain is off. The handlebar bag is a little saggy. The tires are full. Everything seems alright. Then I notice my seat post bag is on the other side of the path and no longer attached to my bike. I look at the piece of plastic that the bag snaps into and it is broken in half.

Decision time. I look in my seat post bag. Deodorant, sunblock, lotion, moist wipes: I don't need these things. I go through the bag and pick out the stuff I think I will need or will be hard to replace and jam my backpack and handlebar bag full. I take the rest of the stuff and the seat post bag itself and throw them in the garbage. Now it's just a handlebar bag and a backpack and me.

The bag and everything in it that I had to ditch.

I finally reach Mt. Vernon. From there I went through Fort Belvoir. While riding through Fort Belvoir, I was climbing a hill and my chain snapped in two pieces. Thank goodness I decided to keep my extra chain! Not more than 5 minutes later a young gentleman pulls up and asks me if I need any assistance. I told him of my predicament and that I might be alright. I get the new chain on the bike but it is too long. I need to remove some links. There is a special tool for removing links which I decided at the very last second not to bring on the trip. My new friend Steve said he will drive me to the store to find this tool.

There is a Wal-Mart type store on the base. They carry chain rivet extractors but have none in stock. Hthen offers to drive me to the Dick's sporting goods in Woodbridge about 10 miles away and was where I was headed anyways. Dick's has the tool and I get the new chain on. I rode around the parking lot a little and everything seemed fine. I thanked Steve and he went on his way.

I did not even make it out of the parking lot. In my test ride I did not change any gears. After Steve had left, I had to change gears and that is when my rear derailleur broke. It must have happened in the crash. I am becoming stressed.

I carry the bike (the rear wheel won't spin because I can't dislodge the chain from the folded up rear derailleur) over to Dick's and go inside to talk to their bike specialist. He says they don't really do repairs and that I should take it to a bike shop about 2.5 miles down the road. I have no choice. I get the chain out so the rear wheel can spin and start walking. I'm not sure how far it was, but it was certainly more than 2.5 miles. More like 4 miles. I get to the bike shop at 5:15 PM. They closed at 4 PM and open tomorrow at 10 AM. That's not so bad, now I just need to find a hotel.

I sat down in front of the closed shop and get out my netbook. The nearest hotel is back where I came from 4 miles away! Just as I am deciding whether to sleep outside this bike shop for the night, a young woman parks in front and walks up also to realize they are closed. Seeing a bloodied, grease covered, guy with a broken bike and a backpack with a tent in it, she was curious as to what I was doing. I told her what I have now told you and could not help but feel sorry for me.

She said her friend has a pickup and that they can give me a ride to a hotel for the night. She also says that her parents live right around the corner from the bike shop and that I might be able to sleep there tonight if they didn't mind. She calls them and tells them my sorry story and after a small interrogation and a lot of trust in their daughter they say it would be fine if I spent the night.

Her friend, Phil, arrives and takes us (her name is Jenna) and my bike back to her parents' house. They let me shower and clean my wounds. Jenna, Phil, and I went out for a mexican dinner and then rented a movie. I am now typing this from their guest bedroom.

Tomorrow I will get the news on the condition of my bike. I'm sure there is a lot to learn from today. I am just too worn out to figure it out now.


life still = good