part 2 days 3 & 4: this blog can’t top itself.
WELL. let’s start with the single fact known to all readers out there: Jaws was filmed on martha’s vineyard. something you might not know: it is an island on which the skunks are more dangerous than the drunks.
we arrived via blood beach, newport, rhode island, so-called only by me and only because red seaweed curls up the crests of the waves and looks like shark attack shaaaaark attack ohmygosh emergency! as the water approaches shore. another 46 mile bike day, this time accidental, and we’re over stone bridge, through buzzards bay, and firmly planted on mv soil. tales of muscular atrophy and degenerating optimism will not find their way into this publication (such as it is), so i’ll just say we got there. we. effing. GOT. THERE. the first person we met on martha’s vineyard was an adamantly not-drunk girl who was in the custody of the ferry authority because she threatened to blow up the ferry. apparently her travel plans had fallen through? we awkwardly befriended her when she asked for a cigarette, promising that we wouldn’t be arrested for giving her one. who can resist a promise like that? “i promise you won’t be arrested for talking to me. friends?” really. if everyone could just give that kind of assurance up front, it would make for much easier social interactions. however, i admit i was grateful when the police came to sort through her hysterics, giving us an opening to scoot into the darkest night under the brightest stars yet.
hostel highlights included a hallelujah woman inventor who wouldn’t peep about her invention, a former buffalonian, a british man beginning a three year global travel odyssey, and an unemployed possible creeper (?), whose island suggestions we nevertheless followed almost to the letter. beach sand, sun burn, lobster rolls, and the only legit ocean sunset on the east coast. jealous? get ready for The Ultimate.
to help ease you into the ultimate, here’s a thing i thought was going to be the ultimate before the actual ultimate took place. after a bottle of wine in edgartown, we missed the first evening bus and found a heated nook with a view of the street scene in which we took shelter to wait for the next one. from our perch, what did we spy but a foraging skunk, dangerously near to the main street drunks. the martha’s vineyard police, priorities clearly ordered, advanced, retreated, beamed, and gossiped about this skunk while drunk drivers of all stripes left the bars, car keys firmly grasped in sweaty palms. if the police had at least taken the skunk in for questioning, i’d say “job well done”. however, both the skunks and the drunks ran free last night, and we shared a cab with one of the aforementioned parties for a lewd, smelly ride home. this version of the ultimate is so lame compared to the real ultimate, which is as follows:
OH MY GODDDD DID WE EVER MEET THE PRESIDENT! (please note i totally didn’t jinx it.) the first clue that something life-changing was about to happen was that the secret service almost ran us off the road. the second clue was a road block. the third clue, also a road block. then, sirens, secret service, helicopter, should i stay on this bike?, video crew, seriously, is this about to happen?, guy riding the opposite way: “he’s there”, should i get off my bike or not? i don’t know what’s proper. i want to take off my helmet., no time, small crowd, PRESIDENT OBAMA goofin’ in dad jeans. he was wearing his helmet so i left mine on too. john didn’t wait; he hollered “hey, mister president!” and i thought he was going to be tackled by the secret service for heckling, but apparently they can easily distinguish heckles from greetings. that is good training. professionals through and through. also i guess heckles are covered under the first amendment, so he probably would not have been tackled anyway. we introduced ourselves, one antsy islander almost ran down malia because he was late for work, and john told the president he looked good, which was nice because he actually looked pretty gray and tired. sadly, there was no q&a session, but we have compiled a short list of follow-up questions to be sent via e-mail.
part 2 day 2: this is rhode island.
after crossing new york state at a glacial 3 miles per hour, getting wheels under us was like sailing on a cloud. a cloud covered with lava and daggers raining sweat upon its many-minkeled surface. how is it that after all that walking i still have no muscles in my legs? i have a bone to pick with my so-called quads, and it’s called the femur. just to be clear, john seemed to have no trouble with today. he’s a natural on wheels. i, however, seem to have no affinity for them, and the more the worse, as far as i can tell (cars, rollerblades).
today’s ride to providence was about 46 miles, which was news to me. i was under the impression that providence was essentially just another boston neighborhood. like, if you asked if i wouldn’t mind running down to providence to grab some coffee and bagels for breakfast, i’d say “oh sure, no big deal. cream? sugar? lox? anything you want.”
we followed a wooded country road over the unmarked state line, and the highest psychic point of the ride came on a downhill (of course) when we suddenly plunged out of our shaded wood into bright light, surrounded by water. since i wasn’t expecting it, the reservoir seemed somehow secret, and john took the glamour shot of our bikes against that backdrop.
i can’t tell if providence is a cool city. terrific coffee, but it also centers a clifton hill-esque area. more exploration required. providence, you have the floor. defend yourself.
john owes a gas station attendant $1.40 and an explanation for why he doesn’t know anything about the amenities offered in the ocean state, so we’re heading back to mass. tomorrow to evade that debt. we might start in newport so we can meet bob dylan (nope, he’s in boston) or otis redding (eee, passed in 1967), so actually our chance of meeting a celebrity will come later in the day when we go to martha’s vineyard to hang out with BARACK OBAMA WHO IS IN MARTHA’S VINEYARD RIGHT NOW!!!!! i’ve been getting really excited about this today, but the two-wheelin’ john does not seem to share my enthusiasm. he probably thinks i’m going to jinx it.
days 14 and 15, or day 1 part 2: trading up.
so guess what? we kind of copped out. we got on a train in albany to make up some time, but ended up deciding to take it all the way home for a variety of reasons. the good news is that we aren’t content to rest on our ill-won laurels: there’s a new adventure a-brewin’, and we’ll blog its rolling boil.
the swap: feet for wheels. farmland for coastland. 20 mile days for 60 mile days. tomorrow we’re letting our bikes out of the stable and setting off for providence, RI, martha’s vineyard, and cape cod. i have been promised a sweaty butt and ferry rides, and intend to cash in with elan.
and yes, helmets are a non-negotiable component of the adventure uniform. spandex, as always, is optional.
meanwhile, within 24 hours in boston, we helped the cambridge police solve a crime and then were gently (and falsely) accused of a crime by a brookline officer. police! get a job!
days 11 through 13: IO U guys an update!
on sunday evening i had prepared a loosely arranged tangle of stories about creeping raccoons, killer swans, ice cream, rain, pain, body hair, midpoints, and RVs. at about 9:30 pm, just as i was passing the draft across to my editor for comments, a shadowy figure emerged from the glimmerglass night. he placed a plastic bag on our picnic table with a simple “hey”. it took detective john and i a moment to puzzle out just what terrific apparition stood in front of us. FRANK ! frank was en route to new york, saw john was nearby using google latitude, and stopped in for a night of franzia sunset blush and competitive cardgames. since we’d accidentally rented a high-luxury trailer for the night, there was room for frank to stay over. thus the story of my 26th birthday changed from a tale of a pint of ice cream at a gas station to one of a sleepover party with an unexpected and much-welcomed visit from a techwhiz friend.
monday morning fog hung low and rain was forecast for the next two days, so after eating breakfast on the set of a reality tv show and catching up with the local news and favorite recipes in the sharon springs Chatter (slice some cucumbers, drizzle with olive oil and balsamic, and ENJOY - from the Chatter to your kitchen. you’re welcome), we hopped a ride with frank to albany to rest and wait out the weather.
we stayed with john’s super hospitable and zombie apocalypse-ready friends annie and paul, got totally dissed by cuomo’s goons at the capitol building, ate great food, cleaned our bodies and clothes, and mailed ahead some of our little-used and heaviest items, such as THE HATCHET. WHAT DO YOU USE A HATCHET FOR? we clearly don’t know.
now we’re two thirds of the way to boston and in the market for some mace. our intrepid lumberjack is considering his new moustache on a for-keeps basis. later today i’ll tell all about crossing the NY/MA state line and traveling through the berkshires. til then, continue to keep track of your friends’ movements via gps.
horse ‘n boogie, a tribute.
