Day 20 - Mar 5 - The End

I slept fitfully with a runny nose and cold feet. The cold, damp air didn't help my chest congestion. I awoke more tired than when I went to bed. But I didn't have a choice. I had to ride the 60 miles to Hempstead. I had already decided to end my trip for sure, but I don't know if such knowledge made the last day easier or harder. To some extent, I think it made it harder, since I had lost some of my zeal to succeed.

We left the campground fairly early. The weather warmed up quickly, and it was a nice day, though slightly overcast. Rain was in the forecast for Sunday and Monday. I was slow, slow, slow upon leaving the campground, so I rode alone all day. The road was a narrow, two-lane affair with no shoulder, and the speed limit was 60 mph. I didn't plan on riding that fast, but the car and truck drivers certainly did. I got honked at all day long.

Throughout the trip, we've been on many back roads with no shoulder and high speed limits. And there have been a few close encounters with vehicles. But until Texas, I never really, seriously felt that my life was in danger. For the past few days, I certainly have. The drivers won't move over much, if any, and they won't slow down. At times, I have felt the hair on my left arm fly from the passing cars/trucks. That's close. Too close. Yesterday, a truck almost ran a car off the road, passing me on a hill.

Since today is Saturday, traffic on these country roads seemed fairly heavy. They must have all been headed to a Walmart somewhere. The ride through the Sam Houston National Forest was probably the loveliest scenery we've had throughout the trip. It was mainly just a pine forest, but it was dense and unpopulated and serene. When we emerged from the forest, the land became a rolling terrain of cattle grazing land. The hills seemed mountainous to me, as I struggled to ascend them at 5 mph. Normally, the downside would be fun, but on a two-lane road with traffic, you have to hug the side, so I had to brake down most of the hills, which meant I lost that momentum for the next ride up. It became disheartening early on.

My mid-day, I was totally spent. I had absolutely no energy. We still had 40 more miles to go. I seriously doubted that I could make it with all the hills. By the time we got to Anderson, 25 miles into the day, I was sobbing while riding. I didn't know what I was going to do, or how I was going to make it another 40 miles. We stopped at a local diner to eat. Mike and Bryan had enormous bacon cheeseburgers, and I had a BLT and onion rings, which I couldn't finish. While we sat there, the locals around us starting quizzing us about our trip. We had seen dozens and dozens of people out on motorcycles during the day, and two tables were filled with motorcycle riders. They were all incredulous of our journey. I tried to hitch a ride to College Station, TX, about 35 miles away where I knew there was an airport and rental cars (Texas A & M is there), but no one was headed that way. I had talked to a rental car agent who had offered to come get me, but he couldn't leave the desk for awhile and asked if I could ride closer to him, so we hit the road to Navasota, which was our next stop. By now, it was getting late, and the guys needed to hit the road if they were going to make it to Hempstead by dark.

I don't know where I found the strength to ride another 10 miles up and over hill after hill, but I did. I literally crawled into Navasota and found the guys waiting for me at a convenience store (where else?). I called the rental car agent back, and he told me that he could come get me after 5 p.m. (it was 3 p.m. at that point), so I stayed in Navasota, and the guys took off for Hempstead. It was a little unsettling to be there alone. While I was on the phone with my Mom (who was delighted that I was coming home), a Hispanic woman tried to sell me some perfume. Her pitch: "Excuse me, ma'am. Strange question. You do like to where perfume, don't you?" I just looked at her, wondering if I even managed to put on deodorant this morning, much less perfume. She was stunned when I said, "No." She replied, "You don't?" As if there were something wrong with me. I looked at her with that I'm-on-the-phone look, and said, "No" again. She bounded off to accost another patron at the store. When a one-armed sheriff's deputy (how does that work exactly?) pulled up a few minutes later, she and her colleagues beat a hasty exit from the parking lot with their bags of snake oil.

With two hours to kill, I rolled next door to McDonald's and ate some french fries. I wasn't sure what kind of car I was going to be able to rent. The agent told me he had a Mazda 5 available for a one-way rental and thought it would hold my trike with the seats folded down (it's a crossover type vehicle), but I wasn't sure what that was or to what extent I would have to dis-assemble my bike. Ultimately, I removed only the fairing and its hardware. The trike fit perfectly in the back of the vehicle. I was so happy.

Cole, the Enterprise agent, drove about 25 miles from College Station to get me and drove me back to C.S. to the airport. He was such a nice guy. He was doing this on his own time, since his work day ended at 5 p.m. He gave me a quick history of this college town. It was a big city in comparison to the tiny towns we had been riding through. And clean. Cole told me that the recession had not hit there at all, and that the town was booming. It looked like it.

It was weird driving a car again. It had been only three weeks since I'd driven one, but it was strange nonetheless. My legs were thanking me. By the time I got on the road, it was getting dark. The main roadway was undergoing major construction, so I took a wrong turn and got lost for awhile, getting out of the city. Once on my way, I realized that the gas gauge was setting on empty. Nice. I was now in between College Station and Navasota. There was nothing around. I could just see myself running out of gas and being stranded on the side of the road. Luckily, I made it to a gas station in Navasota, then hit the road on my way to Ryan's aunt's house, where I was going to stay for the night.

I passed by the first turn and had to go back. I wasn't sure where the next turn was supposed to be, and I was out in the middle of nowhere. Just as soon as I made my first turn, there before me, in the middle of the road, was a skunk just ambling along. I couldn't do anything to avoid it. It was just right there. Bam. I hit it. And I burst out crying. I felt so bad. I was so tired and so stressed and so ready to be where I was going, I just lost it. And, of course, the stench from the skunk was overwhelming. It had filled the entire car, and I was gagging on the smell. Once I had pulled myself together, I called Ryan. As soon as we connected, I heard a loud beep. My cell phone battery was on its last leg. Great. Before it died, he told me to go about 5 miles and turn at a stop sign. I drove forever. No stop sign. I called him back. Oops. There was no stop sign. So I turned around and tried to find the right street. I couldn't read the street signs, even with my high-beams on. I had to actually get out of the car to read a sign. Turns out, it was the road I needed. I drove several miles and found Ryan at the end of a driveway, blinking his headlamp/flashlight at me. It was a welcomed sight.

By the time I pulled in, it was after 8 p.m. Everyone had eaten, but I was offered what remained. I ate some salad and shared a cheesecake my Mom had mailed there (along with other things) for my birthday. Ryan's aunt was very sweet. I had a shower and got to sleep in a bed. We all crashed about 9:30 p.m. What a long, long day. I lay in bed not sure how I felt about it all. I was glad to be going home, but sad that I would be leaving the guys and cutting short my intended trip. I fell asleep trying to sort it all out.