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Come to Canada We got an early start in an attempt to make some miles. It was a Sunday and we thought the traffic would be less. Hazy, foggy and cool summed up the weather until it turned to rain around 2:00 p.m. The bleak surroundings seemed even worse. There were too many people, cars and pollution, not enough trees or scenery. It was definitely uninspiring cycling. The only excitement for the day was seeing virtually hundreds of Italian cycling racers hit the road for their weekend outing. Sunday mornings were the time for club rides. Slipstreams twenty riders long cruised past us, asking where we lived. When we replied Canada they all shouted "Bravo!" Sherry quickly realized the all male cycling faction was surprised to see two women pedaling loaded touring bikes. They all made an extra effort to pass as the Italian male ego couldn't stand to be bettered by a woman. At a fruit and vegetable store we met a fatherson team. They asked Sherry how far she had ridden. She looked at us for translation assistance-kind of like a mute asking retards for help. "Una milla," Sharon said. "Naw!" the pair behind the counter scoffed. "Si, si," I assured them. The father still shook his head no. "Ventocinque mille kilometres," Sharon said, pointing to herself and me. Not surprisingly their eyes widened in disbelief. Our large number must have made some impression-before we were able to leave we had to turn down several offers of multiple squash. The rain was Sherry's fault. She admitted having thought about rain-a sure omen for precipitation. And rain it did. It poured. We stopped at two thirty under a closed bar's entrance awning. At least it was dry. I was supposed to phone home. Of course there was no phone around. I checked to see if there was one by the gas station, but they didn't have one. It hadn't rained for three weeks. Murphy's Law. I decided that before it got much darker I would have to ride five kilometers to the next town and look for a phone there. I headed off into the drizzle. Just as I did, the heavens really busted a seam and it drummed down. By the time I got to town I was thoroughly soaked. I rode around looking for a phone, finally locating one in the town square. It didn't work. I noticed on the LCD screen that the zero didn't enter. I frenetically poked the zero repeatedly and eventually by punching the numbers it accepted them. At the end of my phone call, wanting to give myself some latitude for future phone calls, I told Mom and Dad they shouldn't worry if I couldn't phone on the exact date we set. It may be more difficult to get through in Greece and with the time difference it was dark before I could call at the cheap rates. "So you'll phone next on the 16th," they said as I hung up. It was dark. I got lost leaving town until I spotted road construction I had gone through on my way into town and was able to retrace my route. I had on my rear flashing Vistalite and my headlight. My generator fell apart and had problems remaining against the tire to produce even a feeble light. I was glad Sharon wasn't there to say "I told you so." It was only the second time I had used it. Water covered the road. My shoes and socks were saturated by spray. I finally returned, a wet soggy bundle. Sharon and Sherry had the tent set up on the bar steps. Shortly after my return we were discovered by the owners of the bar. Their house was next door and their car headlights illuminated our reflective material when they returned home. Initially, they were somewhat startled as to what we were doing on their property, but they recruited a niece (the only English speaking relative) to interpret. She located a key to the vacant bar and ushered us inside. Soon the entire family was present. Candles were produced (the bar had been closed for some time and the utilities had been disconnected) and soon the entire family was present. Shortly thereafter they delivered hot toasted cheese sandwiches and a pot of sweet tea. Inside the bar, we ate by candlelight from the door of our tent. The furnishings were a bit sparse, but it beat being outside in the rain. I gave our address to the niece who said she traveled a lot. After the family had departed, Sherry quipped, "Sure, come to Canada. I'd be happy to put you up in our garage any time!" I think she was hoping for a hot shower. I know Sharon was. |
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