Fairfield to Fort Madison
Folks had been talking about how tired everyone was getting. Not paying attention to what they were doing. Forgetting their manners.
In other words, acting pretty much like they do every other time they go out for a ride.
I sat there thinking that I didn’t feel tired at all. Rather, I didn’t feel exhausted by the ride itself. The daily distances were very short. Even the second day on the ride, the 80+ miler, in the 90+ degree temperature wasn’t the longest or hottest day I’ve ever spent on a bicycle.
I was a little tired of camping out. I was craving something other than fair food. (Found a stand that was selling vegetables. Sucked ’em right down!) But I wasn’t tired of the actual bicycling. I could have easily gone another 500 miles, I think. (Yeah, even with the hills thrown in.)
Speaking of hills, this leg of the route wasn’t the flattest. It was hillier than most, tell you the truth. There was one stretch of road where they had little helpful signs proclaiming, “Iowa Scenic Hill Drive.” I would have been happier with the “Iowa Scenic Flat Land Tour,” myself.
At one point going up a rather long hill, there was a guy in a car trying to get around us. In large groups like this, you shout warnings to other bikers. “Car up” means there’s a car coming towards us. “Car back” lets you know there’s one coming up from behind you.
There was this ass-hat who, upon hearing “Car Back,” intentionally got as far into the left lane as he could. And stayed there. Completely blocking the driver. We weren’t going more than about 8 miles per hour. (Remember, we were going up hill.) The driver laying on the horn didn’t move this jerk.
I’m thinking, “Ya know, this is why motorists hate bicyclists.” This being Iowa, I’m half surprised the driver didn’t break out his shotgun . . .no one — bicyclist or motorist — would have convicted him.
|Some of the other bicyclists who didn’t get out of the way.|