Do You Recall What Was the Deal the Day the Music Died

Often the sight of a cyclist in the distance seems like a mirage. After seeing, or having it respond to, a wave, I know it's real. Pulling over to meet Andrew 30 miles outside of Farmington, I gave him the good news of Al's Place (he was heading East from San Francisco). He hadn't heard. While trying to shift my bike off the rode I caught my headphones in the tire, stripping some of the rubber from the wire. This is actually the second time I've duct taped these headphones, and at first they worked just fine.

It was after dinner that only the instrumentals were able play through the ear buds. I can't tell if it's the headphones or my iPod that is terminally ill, but just like Don McLean, I'm pretty shook up. Until further notice, I'm riding old school.

Another hot day made the sweat pour in ways I never thought possible on a bicycle. I love the heat, so I embrace it. At almost every stop I got a cup of ice from the store, keeping my water cold all day.

I made the 60 mile stretch from Farmington to Ellington. There wasn't a campground for another 10 miles so I'm here at the city park, listening to some kids play home run derby. I'm hoping for no one to bother me, set my tent up when it gets dark, and roll out before the Sheriff finishes his Sunday doughnuts. Keep your fingers crossed.

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