Coincidence? Maybe. But definitely no snackcident.

I’m stopped and hanging at a bathroom along the Trace. Doing what all the cool kids are doing now: napping on picnic table tops and getting my fill of Mississippi faucet water. About to move on when the North Carolina duo of John and Jae come rolling in (let’s call them JJ, collectively.) We chat a bit about the last couple days on the Trace and how happy we are with the day’s light rain and cloud cover. Then, after I down another 32 ounces of water, I notice that they’re only using the women’s bathroom. Looks like Carolinians might be more progressive than cable news leads us to believe! (Is that still an issue even?) I’ve been pissing everywhere the entire time, wondering if it would be worth riding with a catheter down my leg so I could just let lose on the pavement without having stop.

So wait. Smoking in the men’s room only?

Many hours and many hills later and the skies have cleared a bit and it’s another tiny nap on a picnic table at Witch Dance campground. I’m continuing the day long discussion that me, myself and I have been having about pushing on to the 🚲 🏕 only site in Tupelo – the difference in being done now or being done 38 miles up.

Probably predictably, JJ pops up right as I’m about to fill my bottles and say fuck it, I’m camping. At the same exact moment a motorist comes out of the bathroom all excited, “hey guys I’m a cyclist too”. And I mean excited. I didn’t get his name, but he lives in Mississippi by way of Ohio via Saudi – I would’ve loved to have gotten that story. Instead, I get a handful of almonds and cliff bars from this random young dude. And ya know what? Turns out I needed those snacks, because JJ was down to knock the extra miles out, right after they use the ladies bathrooms.

This is pure bicycle tour gold.