Rain man

Bellefontaine to Greenville, Ohio. Sunday, May 9, 2021

Today I faced a dilemma (it’s my middle name). 30 miles to the northwest was Wapakoneta Ohio, birthplace of Neil Armstrong, one of my childhood heroes. We have all been recently reminded of his feat by the movies First Man and Armstrong, which commemorated the 50th anniversary of the moon landing. I remember watching it on TV like it was yesterday, I had built elaborate models of the spacecraft, and reenacted each maneuver for my family in real time, stuffing cotton into the rocket nozzles to indicate a burn. A first step on my path towards geekdom. I remember the jocular interviews with locals in Wapakoneta, America was fascinated that this tiny town was home to such a great man. I remember the context in that vivid summer of Stonewall, Woodstock, the Manson murders, and Chappaquiddick. I remember the controversy of spending so much for what was basically bragging rights. I remember Gil Scott-Heron’s satirical Whitey on the Moon. I remember it all. I wanted to pay tribute.

So what was the dilemma? It was in the wrong direction, would cost me a full day. It was pouring rain, so I would arrive at the cheesy museum soaking wet. I would wind up having to stay in the motel there, after only 30 miles. And besides, our corn-fed hero had eschewed MIT for Purdue, claiming he could get just as good an education there. The hell with him.

Who could smell the roses in this downpour anyway? No, the wind was blowing strongly southwest, in the direction of my next highpoint, which would make this freezing rain tolerable. My chance to put this fancy rain gear to the test. There was a cheap but well rated motel 60 miles down the road. Let’s go.

It went great at first. The gear was keeping me warm and reasonably dry, despite the two inches of predicted rain. The tailwind was a hoot, I was cruising at speeds up to 25 mph with only moderate effort. Try and catch me now, Fido. After 10 miles the odometer rolled over and I belted out The Proclaimers’ thumping song.

And. I. Would. Bike. Five. Hundred. Miles. And. I. Would. Bike. Five. Hundred. More. Just to be. The. Man. Who. Bikes. A. Thousand. Miles. To. Fall. Down. At. Your. Door.

The temperature never got above 40, and has been far lower than average this whole trip. I was concerned I would get really chilled when I stopped for lunch, but all of my clothing is synthetic and kept me warm enough in the quickstop, the bemused clerk Cathy was helpful with scads of paper towels as she watched me wring out my gloves. My mood would rise and fall with each bend in the road, a freezing crosswind or that blessed tailwind. I was really fine until close to the end. I saw that a fancier motel was just off to the side, and figured I’d go in to check to see if I could get a good price.

The cheerful receptionist gave me the best price she could, but it was still more than double. She didn’t mind if I sat my soaking body down on one of her couches as I tried Priceline, to no avail. My original motel was still 2 miles away. With great reluctance I went back out into the freezing rain, but I had gotten just enough off route that I needed Google Maps to show me the way.

After getting me started, my brave little cell phone finally gave up the ghost. Supposedly waterproof when I purchased it, I had had to repair a cracked screen and the serviceman said that they could no longer guarantee the water resistance. I had a special rain cover for the handlebar mount, which had worked well up to this point. However the repeated taking it on and off the bike and handling it with wet fingers ultimately to be proved too much. Suddenly I was in the middle of a smallish city, Greenville, shivering, exhausted, with no clue as to where to go. Not even the sun to tell me which was was North.

The nearest shelter was a pick-up pizza place. The counter guy was very busy as people came in and out, but he let me have a few paper towels and didn’t seem too annoyed as I stood in his lobby and attempted to resuscitate the cell phone. No luck. Finally I went out to the bike and got my iPad, which had been fully sheltered and was still working. It showed me the way, but I had to commit it to memory. I thought, all I need is a good old fashioned paper map, but good luck trying to find one of those. I’m sure the Luddites among you will get a kick out of my predicament.

Anyway, I made it without further drama, deeply disappointed that this was my first motel that did not have a washer and dryer. It was 63° in the room, and the little heater struggled all night to get it up to 72. I hung my soaking clothes around the room, the place looked like a tenement. However, a hot shower and a good sub from the delivery guy brightened my bedragglement, and at least was able to call Jane on the hotel phone. When’s the last time you used one of those?

The phone is partially working as of this morning, but none of the mapping software is. It keeps resetting itself. Uh oh. My route today has lots of tricky turns as I approach the Indiana highpoint, I’ll try to let my iPad navigate from my rear pannier, through my AirPods, while the phone continues to dry on my handlebars. We’ll see. What’s the next step, a bag of rice? I am reminded of that great scene from North by Northwest, where Cary Grant is standing at an isolated crossroads in Indiana, totally befuddled.

I guess Neil had the last laugh after all.

Distance 61.8 miles, 1,052 total. Time 7 hours with stops. Elevation gain 2,270 feet.