It’s maybe a 20 minute nap. Even Hammer would say proper.

We decide to get up, get out and get something as 1400 hours comes around. The skies are overcast and the heat is down a few degrees. Nice.

No more than 10 minutes in and it’s fucking pouring. Thunder. Lightning. The whole thing called weather has gone to shit. We take refuge from the storm, Flea and Anthony Kiedis style.

I want to average 70 miles a day and we’re at 27 for the day. My mind wonders back to tornadoes on the Northern Tier. After an hour or so we get moving under light rain.

Just a couple miles in and Damon’s crank and pedal have come loose. My wrench won’t fit in there so I do my best with a leatherman. That doesn’t do it.

Fuck mechanical issues like Rick James on Eddie Murphy’s couch.

After a second tightening, we get some cell service. I google “bicycle”. There’s one a few miles away and they close in 20 minutes. In yet another “port”, Fairport. Let’s go! An hour later and we are set, thanks to the fine folks at RV&E. The plan is to rendezvous with Daniel and Chad further up the canal. Maybe it’s a private helicopter. I don’t know. We gotta make up some miles.

Damon and I pound this shit out like prison rapists. The trail is muddy and a little slippery but we roll through Palmyra with no sign of the Mormon tablets. We arrive into Newark NY and decide that the covered picnic table area with the water supply and the power outlet will be our home for the night. Right on the canal and right on cue, the rain comes back in. But we’re also now a foursome. Chad and Daniel bring fresh energy and cold beer. We crack jokes, talk about passed trips and plan to wake up early. I jump in the tent and crash instantly.