Well George Washington did it, and Thursday afternoon Mike and I did as well. We crossed the Delaware River (from New Jersey into Pennsylvania.) After biking the nasty, pothole-ridden streets of one of Trenton’s gamier neighborhoods, we were thrilled with the relative tranquility of the Keystone State. Thirty minutes after crossing the river, we were cruising the byways of Bucks County, just outside Philadelphia.
To be continued.
I’d never seen Princeton, NJ, and I’d always wanted to. As Mike and I left the New York area we had two choices on routes. The first had us following the Adventure Cycle Association strip maps that would take us into the boonies of western New Jersey to the Delaware River. Our option was to scratch the Princeton itch and go down the center of the state on numbered, secondary highways. Princeton won. Mike too had never seen the city, and since we had a family member in his senior year at the university, it was a slam dunk.
The bike arrived, the bike arrived, the bike arrived.
Earlier today we got to REI at 3:30pm full of hope but with a healthy degree of trepidation, as we checked in with the bike repair attendant. “It’s here, but we haven’t unpacked it,” he said in a New York accent that told us he could really care less.
We frowned, hoping the bark/accent was worse than the bite.
“Okay, okay, I’ll try, maybe by 5:30, but no promises.”
Mike arrived Sunday afternoon at JFK after suitably cushy first class ride from LAX. That night we did some final planning, Labor Day we ran last minute errands in Manhattan and then walked back to my daughter Jennifer’s house in Brooklyn. It felt great to stretch our legs. Tomorrow morning we pack for the last time, with all the belongings we’re going to have for six weeks and take the train to the REI store. Everything else is hope.
I’m at 39,000 feet over central Illinois on my way to New York from California. The trip is finally starting, and I’m scared. My cousin Mike and I have been planning and training for this trip for over a year, and as it gets closer, the uncertainties multiply.
Will my legs hold up? After all I will be 70 years old next month, and I haven’t
done anything like this since a 500-mile backpack trip 5 years ago. Do I have the stamina?
Well it looks like I’m going to have to create my blog using iphone notes. I had planned to use a mobile keyboard with my iphone and the new Windows Live Office/MS Word. What I didn’t know before I read the fine print, was that, while Windows Live “supports” the iphone, the support here means “read” not write. $#@%&@#%. Oh well.
I’m finally getting back to my workout regimen after two weeks in Ohio (my niece, Laura’s, graduation from medical school), two weeks in New York (helping my daughter, Jennifer, with her latest art show) and a month of babysitting my grandson Oliver in California. Whew.
I’m just leaving Penn Station in New York headed to Summit, New Jersey to see how bike-friendly the route is. Mike & I will have to take this train to reach the beginning of the first leg of our route down to Virginia.
It looks good, numerous ticket machines, good clearance on the walkways, enough storage on the trains and trains every hour. And a Starbucks at the Summit station.
The ride had been hatched in the Jacuzzi at the Casa Blanca Hotel in Mesquite, Nevada last year. My cousin Mike and I were relaxing after a week-long bike ride. We had covered well over a hundred miles, had been on the trail every day and had loved it. In fact we were ready for more. As we let the heat and bubbles of the spa work their magic, we started talking and dreaming.