Day 4, time to keep score:

75 years ago, Buffalo NY was the 8th largest city in the United States. This has nothing to do with this particular long ride but birthplace requires such announcement… too bad, so sad.

467 kilometers pedaled.

We’ve thus far climbed 3,846 feet and descended 3,764 feet. Hmm.

Chad is 6’2” tall. I am 5’10”. Maybe 5’9”.

Chad is 58 years old. I am 3 years old. Ahem. Now then… if you’re one of those unlucky people reading this word vomit, actually paying attention and playing along at home, you may want to throw up your hands and say “so just yesterday you mentioned Chad being ten years older than you, what’s up with your fuzzy math?!” To that I say fuck you. I can’t count. I’m just told you that I am fucking three years old. I can maybe count to ten on a good day. Maybe. Ten is like the biggest number, ever. Evveerrrrr. Fight me.

Digable Planets truly let us know that we are all just babies, man. At least we should act it. I do. I’m Dee in thought about this and a cycling mom rolls by me stopped at a red light. What has to a three year old boy in the bag wagon, donned in an oversized helmet and even more enormous pair of wayfarers, is folding a cookie up and looks at me. Like dead ass into my eyes (even tho his are covered), deep into my soul, and gives me the slightest of nods. We stick together. Solidarity in toddlerdom, I say. With that, I’m convinced this is all I need to say for today. Nothing about Kingston coffee shop morning with native Montrealers. Nothing about the baller free ferry ride. Nothing about that magnificent tuna Gouda melt at a bicycle/coffee shop Picton. Nothing about super dark later night remote sleeping in a provincial park which shall remain unnamed. Nope. Byyyyeee.