the tale of the missing pick-up truck and other adventures

Ah, desolation. There's nothing like it. And nothing in it. No gas stations. No water. No people. No shrubbery. No bathrooms. No nothing.

In New Mexico, it's just you and the bicycle. And the song that happens to be stuck in your head. (Ironically, the one most often trapped in mine was "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman -- "Baby's got a fast car..." -- and let me tell you, this baby would have settled for any kind of car.) There's also the oppressive head-wind (why did we decide to ride our bicycles east to west again?) and a great deal of physical and emotional strife.

Kidding! The desert is great!

We had a tough couple of days into Santa Fe (where I am now!). 100+ miles, our first real mountain climbs, etc. Bicycling is tiring work, especially when there are no Starbucks or Sunocos or Subways or alligator parks or Taco water rides to keep you motivated.

But we made it. Albeit barely. Yesterday, as we were about to go up a semi-monster of a hill into Santa Fe, Matthew and I decided to take a little "break" (our fourth in a ten minute span) so that I could "fiddle with my chain." "Fiddling with my chain" in this context meant waiting until we caught sight of a pick-up truck. Just so that we could chat with the locals, you know, shoot the shit. (We didn't even consider the fact that pick-up trucks are by definition spacious and roomy and well-equipped to fit a multitude of people and wheels and tired spirits in their multi-purpose, durable flatbeds. Matthew and I would have been just as happy to chat with the owner of a convertible or a VW bug, but everybody knows that pick-up truck owners are friendlier and more savvy individuals. They really have a sense of local culture and tradition. What can I say? They really like to help us fiddle with our chains.)

It was, in true Bike and Build Southern US '07 manner, a matter of trying to get the truest possible sense of the Santa Fe lifestyle.

Don't worry, parents and other concerned elders: no pick-up trucks passed by. (And disclaimer: there has been no hitch-hiking. Yet.) So. We began to climb the wretched hill. As we rounded a particularly steep corner, a gleaming forest-green Chevrolet Silvarado (in truth I have no idea what kind of truck it was) passed us by. Screams were emitted by all, and I think I caught a glimpse of a cackling Satan in the rearview mirror.

A few moments later, the sky darkened most dramatically and a lightning storm commenced. The bolts were in fact rather beautiful, set as they were over the already-picturesque mountains. A sign several miles earlier had warned that "GUSTY WINDS MAY EXIST," and let me tell you, the existence of those gusty winds was indeed confirmed. My bicycle swerved and my self became frightened, but we were only about 2 miles from the Santa Fe Church of Christ (our home away from home) and needless to say arrived unscathed.

All in all, a physically and emotionally exhausting several days. But today we are in beautiful Santa Fe. A day off is a glorious thing. I watched Little Miss Sunshine last night (brought back glorious memories of watching it for the first time with the fam); ate delicious muffins and bagels and assorted Mexican foodstuffs in the past 24 hours; had a vanilla latte this morning; and likely will be able to ignore the dying cat/strangled mouse sounds that my bicycle is emitting, for at least another 5 hours. My tan lines are also looking particularly ravishing at this point in the trip. Apologies too for this picture-less post -- my camera's battery has been low to nonexistent and so I have been reliant on others for photographs. And now this library computer won't accept my USB cord. Ah, technology.