Wake up to me waking up inside the tent. I had to chase some kids away at like 11pm. Now it’s 430am? No wait it’s 530am. Damn. The sun and the clock are not in harmony here folks. My body isn’t either. It’s is sore, like I went through a wormhole, whatever that might feel like. Having crossed into the Mountain Time Zone located state of Arizona without a welcome single sign – I am realizing I used my bicycle as a time machine to travel one hour into the future. And the future is pretty fucking awesome. It’s a lot like Japan. But better because I didn’t need a car, a telephone booth, or a hot tub. And there’s no Morlocks.
Whatever year it is, it’s pretty cold out and I don’t wanna leave the penthouse suite. In true Ren & Stimpy fashion, I pull myself together man. I brew up some much needed coffee. Damon and I break out with only a banana for breakfast. We’re too lazy to make oatmeal but not too lazy to ride 85+ miles to Gila Bend.
Interstate 8 – and the cute and correspondingly parallel Old Hwy 80 – between Yuma and Gila Bend is pretty much 120 miles of nothing. Specifically it’s appear we have 80-90 of those miles now in front of us. 30 miles. Then someplace with water. Then 60 miles and then more water. Definitely the longest service-less stretches thus far. We can’t find much to lean our bikes against. Guard rails have become outdoor seating and bathrooms on Old 80. There’s a surprise interstate rest stop and they have water. I’m filling up waters bottles on the sink and I look across the rest stop bathroom and what do I see? A toilet. Suddenly, I feel like pooping, and so I poop. Why this is significant? Mainly, because I know I’m alive. But also because there’s no toilet seat. And I sit down. And I bet that’s a no go for a lot of you out there. And I’m calling you out on that shit. When you gotta you gotta go.
A train passes us. We pass the same train now stopped. The same train passes us. We play the his game of leap frog with two different trains and are passed by a least a dozen trains.
Now at mile 70 for the say, we just merced 20 miles of interstate 8 through the desert without putting a foot down. These hay bail trucks whip the winds, I almost go down but instead get a boost of speed. I count 5 of them, finally reach an exit and we are now using this exit to nowhere and it’s underpass as a rest stop. There is literally nothing else here but this underpass. It’s a good rest though.
Fly into Gila Bend past this space ship of a Best Western. After 86 miles I feel like a zombie but I know I’m not because of that whole pooping thing I did earlier. Alive! I want to feel more human, so I war bucks up the $70 for a spot at the Gila Lodge. After passing 5 other lodging options, I’d say this one is just slightly over center on the non-seedy end of things, and maybe only used for sex work when the Payless Motel a half mile back is booked. Nonetheless, time travel has been depleting. we crush thousands of calories in under and hour and pass out hard.