Of course, it started with my host and I finishing jury-rigging my garden hose replacement connector. It took some doing, looking up the instructions and images for my trailer, messing around with different things, but we figured it out in the end. I did a little run around the block and it held, for all that could tell me of how it will last for the many miles ahead. We set me up with two backups and a wrench to assure I can change them, if needed, though with considerable work. My host expressed confidence it was going to hold to LA and I wouldn't need to, but I have far less optimism. Either way, after handing over $20 for the cost of her hose and the wrench, as well as finally passing off my bear spray I've been carrying for a couple thousand damn miles now, I headed off with my makeshift repaired trailer, a frocking garden hose to replace the metal spring and rubber of the broken connector.
If it wasn't aggravating enough that I was in constant concern about my trailer coming apart, I discouragingly learned I couldn't just take the straight easy course of highway 1, because it turned into freeway for that stretch, and I instead had to meander all over hell and gone through back roads, migrant farms and foul smelling sloughs and up and down bumpy climbs. It's annoying at times being a second class citizen on the road as a cyclist, denied the fastest routes and nicest roads in favor of longer, rougher routes. And to add to that frustration, I was facing fierce, biting headwinds much of the way as I wandered my back roads and abruptly beginning and ending bike trails.
And the scenery was largely dull. Lots of farms, some slough, some decent dunes right toward the end... All things I'd seen before aplenty. So, trying to relieve the stress, keep myself properly distracted, I found myself tuning into Radio Eli most the day, my internal radio station. It's got an eclectic mix of songs, from silly diddies I've written, to video game themes, to Bob Dylan, to Imagine Dragons, to even some Lady Gaga, all over the map. There are philosophical rants. There are story ideas, mostly destined to be unlived, or even entirely forgotten. There's imagined fights between fictional characters. There's reciting and remembering of the most random rubbish. It keeps me entertained, sane (or makes me batshit depending on your point of view on talking to yourself) when the stress is too much and the scenery too dull. It got me through today.
As did my bit of garden hose. It has a worrying nick in it, but it lived through the 50 miles and remains functional. At my host's small place I found it sensible to not only detach the trailer to get it in but also to relieve the strain on the hose for the evening, something I imagine I'll be doing daily now. But, it yet lives.
Six more days. I'm counting them now, sadly. Tomorrow is the real test. If my trailer and I hold through the huge climbs that are coming tomorrow, then I can make it through to LA I'm sure, one way or another. I need to get around early, give myself all the time I can.
My host says there will be orange flavored cinnamon rolls in the morning. I look forward to that to start my day. I also decided to be gross and get a super big gulp of mountain dew from 7/11 for the morning too. My host says he'll get around as early as I do. He's a good guy. We spent quite a lot of time talking about bike touring and his dream of biking around the world with his girlfriend and his dog. He's younger than me, early twenties. I wish I'd been as mature as to be so reckless and dream-filled and self-determined at his age. ...I can't decide if my mixed up values make sense or if I'm just nuts. Perhaps that shall be the subject of a talk show on Radio Eli tomorrow as I try not to think about my trailer coming apart as I climb a mountainous stretch into nowhere.
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