Houston

Posted on May 20, 2009 by eoingrosch

Houston was good to us for giving us Sam and Linh. They hosted us for four nights, they had an awesome place, and Linh cooked incredible meals.

When we arrived, we brought strawberries for Linh and dark chocolate (brownies) for Sam since Sam had listed these as their faves in his CouchSurfing profile. We wanted to get on good terms with them early since we wanted to stay a while in Houston.

On the first day, we helped Sam build a homemade antenna. He saw a video on YouTube on how to make one out of clothes hangers and a 2′ x 4′. It was ugly – clothes hangered monolith – but it worked. It delivered great reception on broadcast channels.

Ryan and I baked brownies while Linh did real cooking. We made brownies the second night too. Sam and Linh thought we were pretty queer with our chocolate.

On Easter, we were invited to Sam’s parents for dinner. They’re Jewish, so Easter isn’t celebrated. Sam and Linh prepared us for Sam’s mom, Sharon. She would be asking us very personal questions. With all the hype, I was kind of nervous walking in.

Ryan wrote a note down on a piece of paper. Sharon saw it and told him he’s an “intense” person, and that he can’t keep a secret. She’s studied how to analyze handwriting. I wanted mine analyzed. Luckily, she offered to do a real handwriting analysis on both of us. She had us write down the same sentence, and then she ripped us both up.

houston_dinner_handwriting

Pretty much everything in the analysis was negative. Here’s what I remember:

Eoin lies less than Ryan
Ryan has a larger circle of friends than Eoin

Ryan:
In denial
Has a lot of enthusiasm in the beginning but peters out.

Eoin:
Wants to acquire things
Sets mediocre goals

Then Sharon showed us the Macho Show. She had her two chihuahuas Macho and Mariah perform for us. Sam and Linh had warned us about this too. Sharon does the Macho show on all her guests. Small dogs dressed up in sweaters, glasses, and backpacks doing jumps and walking tall on their hind legs.

We did a tour of Houston the next day. We got lost in the Galleria (like Buckhead in Atlanta), thinking we were in downtown.

Then we had lunch at Rice University.

We had a few heavy talks about the trip. Ryan was pretty sad the day after Easter. He told me he really misses his family and Ashley. He questioned how long he could do this trip. “Six months is a long time man. I don’t know if I can do it.” Uh oh, is Ryan’s handwriting analysis really true? Is he petering out? I didn’t care; I just wanted to acquire things ;P.

On the morning we were supposed to leave, I caught Sam before he got on a conference call, and I asked him if we could stay another day. He thought I was joking. “Are you serious?” Mmmmm yeah. It felt kind of awkward, but he was cool with us staying longer. He just thought it was funny for us to be trying to extend our stay after we were warning him about The Traveling Roses.

Ryan and I left for the day so we’d be out of their hair. I think most of our time was spent at the library updating our blog. I don’t know if you know this but it takes a really long time.

That night Linh made enchiladas which were delicious (my favorite of what she cooked) and Ryan baked a cake with strawberry frosting. Mmmm chocolate fatties are expanding to moist sugary pink desserts. Then we watched Sex and Death 101 with Winona Ryder and smug, shitty actor Simon Baker. It turned out to be one of the most pathetic movies I’ve ever seen. Lots of that precise language humor; you know said humor? And then bad sex jokes and ugly, squinty-eyed lead actor, Simon Baker, with smug curly blond locks. The movie felt like forever.

Then we left the next morning. We actually left.

The Traveling Roses

Posted on May 20, 2009 by eoingrosch

The Traveling Roses

One of our hosts in Louisiana told us about a mother and daughter team that are cycling the coastlines of North and South America. That’s ambitious! They call themselves The Traveling Roses. They came to stay with our host for a day or two, and just kept staying. Apparently they are very picky about weather conditions by biking. “Oooooh, it rained last night and it’s wet today. Biking in the wet is miserable. Let’s stay another day to let it dry up.” At about five days into their stay, they said they’d be leaving early the next morning. The next morning, they delayed. More bad weather conditions. “It’s overcast. I hate gray days. I hope there’s blue skies tomorrow.” At this point, the host couldn’t take another day of them. He drove them and their bikes 60 miles to their next destination.

But they’re not all bad. One night they offered to make their world famous spaghetti. Giving back for overstaying their welcome. They delayed. The host got anxious because it was getting late and they hadn’t even started. Their world famous spaghetti probably involves a lot of preparation. Cutting up vegetables, adding spices, making the sauce, hand-rolling the pasta. He prompted them and they got to it. They boiled pasta and added Ragu sauce. WORLD FAMOUS!

They started in New Orleans a year ago. And they just got out of Louisiana recently. They hitched rides a number of times, and then overstayed to the extreme in Gueydan, LA. The Methodist church allowed them to stay in their guest house and the Traveling Roses freeloaded for 9 months. There was probably an extended period of morning dew on the ground. You can’t bike in that!

They’ve extended the duration of their coastline trip from 4 years to 6 years after their year long pace to get out of Louisiana. Texas will probably take them 2 years. Maybe they should change their mission to be to bike the coastline of two states. That would save a lot of generous people from being abused.

Reading their website is frustrating. They’ve got ads, a list of “Sponsors,” an “Amazon Store” where you can buy the same gear they’re using, and a few places where they urge you to donate money to their cause. Here’s their sales pitch:

Many folks we’ve met have asked how they could help us, so in late autumn of 2007 we wrote a fundraising letter telling our story, liberally lacing it with movie quotes. Our idea was to ask for a $30 minimum donation and to give away a t-shirt to each person who could identify all the movie quotes hidden in the letter. When we realized how time and cost intensive it would be, we scratched the t-shirt idea, but we still really loved the movie letter.
So, since we know most of you probably have too many t-shirts anyway, we’re going straight to the heart of the matter – and asking for your donation of $30, $50 or more! We hope you enjoy our letter, and we hope it inspires you to click on the button below to help us out by sending us a donation of any amount. Let us know if you can identify any of the movie quotes!

So they’re not giving t-shirts to people who donate? Why make an empty reference? They want everyone to know that they intended to give send t-shirts for donations, but they have no follow through, and are good for nothing. A tease. Empty and parasitic. And a $30 minimum?! That’s asking a lot for supporting a pipe dream.

Ryan and I developed a seething hatred for The Traveling Roses. The mission, “cycling to celebrate life,” seems more like “mooching and lying to take advantage of generous people.” Ryan and I adopted a temporary mission: to warn our hosts about the mother-daughter deadbeat combo coming through

Hitching out of San Antonio

Posted on May 10, 2009 by eoingrosch

Leaving San Antonio

I got up early to head out of San Antonio. As I was pedaling on the loop road around San Antonio, a car pulled up next to me, keeping my speed. The girl in the passenger seat said, “Where are you going?” Then she kept asking questions. She and her boyfriend said I was inspiring. They were pumped for me. I told them that this was a first for me, having a car keep my pace to have a conversation while I cycled.

A few serious road cyclists passed me, easily. It seemed to be a popular route. Shitty though. Frontage road to an interstate.

I got stopped at a train crossing. It took about 30-40 minutes. Luckily, a cyclist was stopped there with me, so we talked. He asked about my trip, and said, “Damn, I wish I had done something like that when I was younger. I can’t do that now.” He was talking about his job and responsibilities to his wife and kids. It’s a good reminder of why I’m doing this at all.

I turned onto the I-10 frontage road on the way to El Paso about 500 miles away. I needed a ride. No way was I going to bike through the desert, and I was trying to get out towards Ryan quickly. He was in Colorado.

I made it to a gas station with a McDonalds. Everyone I asked was local, or on their way to San Antonio. This wasn’t a good spot.

Hitch to Kerrville

I rode over to the neighboring Valero gas station and pulled up to a Suburban. A young guy and his girlfriend were filling up. I asked them if they were going to El Paso. They weren’t but the guy offered to give me a ride to Kerrville, about 20 miles away. It was hard to know what to do. I could get stranded out in Kerrville if there’s nothing around, and where I am now, I could still go back to San Antonio and have a place to stay if I couldn’t find a ride to El Paso. But I felt I couldn’t give up an offer for a ride, so I took it.

I knew they were young, but I had know idea Peter was just out of high school, and Alex was going to be going into her senior year. Teenagers. They were really cool though and interested in my trip. I warned them about the quarter-life crisis. “Just look out and be ready for it when you turn 25.” I told them about the path I was on through school and into college, and then spit out to the working world, and then things weren’t so clear. The work path was way more boring, and I didn’t want to get stuck.

SA_Hitch_Peter_Alex

Asking for a Ride at a Gas Station

They dropped me at a pretty active gas station, but it was on the wrong side of the road, the road that would be going East to San Antonio. I was greeted by a motorcycle guy who was with his group. He asked me about my trip. “How far do you usually go each day?” “About 60 miles.” “Oh really? Is that all? I thought you could get further.” Dude, maybe you should try it. Riding up hills involves a lot more than just a turn of your wrist.

Once again, my target was guys in trucks. When I saw one pull up, I would act casually over by my bike outside the store, giving him a few minutes to get out and start the pump. Then, when I was sure he wasn’t still trying to get the pump to accept his debit card, I’d walk over confidently and ask, “Excuse me. Do you happen to be going West towards El Paso?” In asking it, I’d be as harmless as possible, not pushy. Just a nice guy. I would usually get friendly responses, but most were heading East.

I got one guy who was traveling alone with an empty truck to admit that he was going to El Paso. Then I asked, “Would you be able to give me a ride? I’m a cyclist from Atlanta, and I’m just trying to avoid riding through the desert.” He looked a little shocked, then hung his head, and begged me forgiveness. “Sorry, I can’t. I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry. I wish I could. I’m sorry.” He was really sorry. I guess he was really worried what might happen. He probably thought he’d end up dead.

A truck pulled in towing a loaded trailer. The bed of the truck was carrying a four-wheeler, and the trailer was carrying all sorts of gear. I gave it a shot. I figured there’d be room somewhere for my bike. I asked nicely and confidently. The guy was going to El Paso!! But, “I don’t like ridin’ with people.” Old gruff guy with a straight, heartless answer. It was probably better he didn’t give me a ride.

One guy I had asked, who was going East, hung around my hang out area by the store for a while. He was a friendly smart ass. All he offered was “Get pedalin’ man. You got a damn bike.”

Two Latino women saw me waiting out there for a while. I wasn’t going to ask them because they were women — I didn’t want to spook them — and they were in a car. But one of them was curious and sympathetic. I told her I was trying to get to El Paso. “Ooooh, we just came from there. Oh, I’m sorry. I wish we could help.” She asked if I needed anything from the store, like a drink. She really wanted to help me. I could tell from her face. Full of concern. It was a nice interaction.

Then I saw my ticket out of there. A truck with an empty bed came in pulling a trailer. Four young guys stepped out. I’m pretty sure they were a metal band on tour. This was hopeful. I figured I could bro around with them and get a ride. Plus, typically, these scary-looking metal, or punk, guys are really nice, gentle people. I asked the driver as he walked towards the store. He said they were going to El Paso. Then I asked for a ride. “No dude. Not enough space.” Dammit. I guess with four guys in the truck, it might be a tight squeeze.

But then I noticed that there was a girl who was with them, traveling alone in her empty Ford Focus. Throw my bike in the empty bed of the truck, and I’ll ride with the groupie girl and keep her company. Missed opportunity. Perfect situation. But I made the mistake.

I shouldn’t have let one person make the decision. I should have found the opportunity to ask the whole group, since I’m sure one of them would have had compassion and guilted the less compassionate ones into giving me a ride. Plus, the group might see it as more of an adventure. The one guy probably didn’t want the burden of making the decision to take in a stranger and have it go wrong. Lesson learned.

Get Pedalin’ Man!

After an hour and a half of waiting at the gas station, the “Get pedalin’ man!” comment got to me. Someone told me there was a rest area in 10 miles. I figured that could be a better place to ask for a ride. I got on my bike and rode on the I-10 shoulder.

Really hot. Nothing around.

I was a long way from the nearest big town, and about 8 days riding from El Paso. Fuck this.

I approached a “picnic area.” This was the rest area I heard about, but one important thing was missing: facilities. No facilities, no people. Why would they stop? And I was running out of water. Busted idea.

There was a small truck parked outside one of the picnic areas. The hood was open, overheated engine. There was a stack of about 10 mattresses strapped down in the back of the truck. The Mexican couple who owned the truck were taking a break at the table. I asked them if they had any water. The guy pointed to the roof of his truck, case of water bottles, and told me to help myself. I took one. Then later, after I retreated, and looked down on my luck, he urged me to take more. I took one more. Gracias!

I had found a piece of board on the side of the road. Desperate situation, desperate measures. Just desperate. I needed to find a ride, but I also needed to help myself get to the next town. So I made a “I Need A Ride” sign using my electrical tape (which I found on the side of the road back in Louisiana), and strapped it underneath the cargo net on my rear rack.

I was speaking to the Mexican couple when an older white lady pulled up in her Suburban. She was traveling alone and stopping to give her dog a walk. I told the couple that I would ask her for a ride, but I that I have a strong feeling she’d be spooked. They said I should give it a shot.

As I approached her, she turned away from me. Then within speaking distance, I started saying, “Excuse me … excuse me.” She didn’t turn around. Then, louder, “Ma’am?” Finally she turned, and I rattled off my story. “… I was just wondering if you could give me a ri..” “No.” Blunt. Bam. Spooked. “Okay, thank you.” I turned around and retreated. I freaked her out.

A few semi-trucks pulled in. I asked the drivers. They all said, “Man, I wish I could, but this is a company truck, and it would be a liability issue.”

I rode off. I was hoping my “I Need A Ride” sign would work. No one stopped or honked or anything. I figured it was probably too small. I was racing the sun, trying to get to Segovia with enough time to eat and then head out to find a camping site on the side of the road. It was 6:30 pm, and I still had 10 miles to go.

The Sign Worked

Then I saw two guys pulled over at the off ramp, waving me over. Shit, my sign worked! I had given up hope since I’d been riding with it for about two and a half hours. They said they could take me to El Paso, no problem. As we were loading the bike in the back, Rod asked, “You don’t have any guns or knives on you, right?”

Rod and Nate are brothers. They were driving back to Phoenix from a week-long vacation in Clearwater, FL. My hometown. Apparently, Rod saw my sign, and thought, “I would want someone to give me a ride if I was biking out here.” He asked Nate, and Nate said, “I don’t want some freak to be sitting behind me.” I guess he thought I might strangle him or something.

We were all put at ease pretty quickly as a lot of information was exchanged. I got to hear their story, and they heard mine. They were all about talking “dude,” and “bro,” and stuff being “tight.” I got a good sense that they were really decent guys. I mean, they took a chance and stopped for me.

I told them about CouchSurfing and they both dug it big time. They liked the idea of knowing a local in the area where you’re traveling, free accommodation, and building karma. They both got amped up on the “pay it forward” idea.

We stopped in Vanhorn, TX for the night. They got a motel room, and said I could stay. I told them I didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, so I ducked down in the truck as they went to check-in. Freebie.

We went to eat at Wendy’s. I bought them dinner off the value menu. A value gesture for their incredible generosity.

My luck had changed. It went from running out of water and looking for a good spot on the side of I-10 to being on a road trip with friends and sleeping in a motel room. I slept in the space between their beds. It was great.

Flow like Water to Phoenix

The next morning we headed out early. They were both saying how they were going to be sad to see me go. I wasn’t looking forward to it either. They would drop me off in Las Cruces, NM, where I could then find a ride up to Albuquerque. I would have a pretty good chance of finding a ride because Albuquerque is the next big town North on I-25.

Rod went a few miles off their track up I-25 to find a good gas station to drop me off. They wanted to solicit potential rides for me. They figured that if they vouched for me to some stranger, I would have a better chance.

We didn’t find much, but we saw a Sam’s Club so we stopped to eat. $2 pizza and drink combo. I treated them again. Another value gesture.

As we were leaving, I said “Damn, I wish I needed to get to Phoenix.” They agreed. Plus they had been saying that if I ever came through Phoenix, I should call them up and I’d have a place to stay. I started thinking. Maybe it would be a pretty cool jumping off point. I could ride through the Four Corners. Go to Grand Canyon. The main thing was that I didn’t really feel like trying to hitch a ride. I was with two cool guys. I wanted to flow like water.

So as we made it back to the truck where we would be parting ways, I asked if I could join them all the way to Phoenix. They were happy about it. Rod said I could stay with him no problem. Last minute change of plans. I was pumped about it.

San Antonio

Posted on May 9, 2009 by eoingrosch

Crossing the Border

We got into Nuevo Laredo at 8:00 am. I changed and put together my bike. Then I took off towards the border.

It was great passing all the cars that were lined up. I was ushered through the pedestrian area. I saw people filing through the turnstiles and having to pay $0.30. The Mexican cop let me through the handicapped gate with my bike. No payment. Gracias amigo!

I stopped to take a photo. I lingered too long. The cop came after me and requested that 30 cents. What I thought was Mexican hospitality was only a mistake. This photo cost me.

On the US side, the border guard was suspicious. What are you carrying in those bags? Why were you in Mexico? Harmless touring cyclist loading up his panniers with drugs.

I’m back in the US! Now I could speak English and expect to be understood. The first guy I asked for directions didn’t speak English.

A Sour Return

I changed my pesos into dollars and then went to Wendy’s to get a wireless connection. Yes, Wendy’s!! I was pumped about these familiar places. I got online and saw Ryan on g-chat. I was pumped.

me: hey i’m in laredo
Ryan: sup dude
me: back in US
Ryan: oh damn
me: oh shit
Ryan: nice
me: where are you?
Ryan: colorado
me: ah well slow down
i’m getting to albuquerque on tues night i believe
Ryan: ohhh. i guess you’re cycling from albuquerque?
me: cycling and hitching maybe
Ryan: hey i was going to ask: do you enjoy touring alone?
me: i only did it for like a day but yeah it was cool
me: why
Ryan: well like you said, i guess there are no compromises you know
i can go at my own pace. stop to see stuff. and change goals whenever
me: are you trying to say you don’t want me back?
Ryan: hah no. i’m saying would you enjoy going it solo more?

Then I wasn’t pumped. I was expecting a warm welcome back. Maybe some air guitar. I got a cold shoulder. What’s wrong with my road dog? I tried to imagine it if our roles were reversed. If he had come down to Mexico to meet me, I would be pumped. You can easily arrange to solo travel; it’s up to you. Traveling with a close friend is harder to arrange. First of all, there aren’t many “close friends.” Then, getting schedules and plans to work out is really difficult. I was trying to make the stars align, but Ryan didn’t seem to care. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t understand it.

Ryan and I talked on the phone, and tried to work it out. His reaction gave me added regrets for coming back. By the end of the conversation, we exchanged I love you’s, and stirred up some enthusiasm for the reunion. It didn’t feel right though. I didn’t expect to have to work for that.

Hitching a Ride

I headed out of Laredo. I tried hitching a ride at an on-ramp to I-35. Nobody stopped.

I got to a gas station and asked guys in trucks if they were going to San Antonio. The first truck I spotted had a bike in the back. I got hopeful, a fellow cyclist. The guy was going to San Antonio, but he couldn’t do it because “he had company with him.” That’s okay.

I went into Subway to eat, and I saw him again. He was eating with his wife. After I finished, I went outside and saw his wife take off in a Suburban, and he followed in his truck. Are you serious dude!?! He’s got company?! They were traveling alone, together. With lots of space. A damn truck and Suburban.

I kept asking, zoning in on guys with trucks. Ladies would be spooked. A couple of young guys came out of their truck. This was promising. I asked but they weren’t going to San Antonio. However, they offered to take me up the road a little bit, to a tourist center. They said the tourist center would be a great place to ask. Lots of people would be stopping there on their way to San Antonio.

The tourist center sucked. Pretty barren. The lady inside gave me a bunch of brochures of San Antonio, but I didn’t want that. I needed a damn ride.

I left the tourist center. I biked up the road, on the interstate. I wanted to get to the next gas station to hitch a ride. On the way, as I was biking, I stuck out my thumb. Maybe I could hitch a ride from my bike. Cycling hitchhiker didn’t work.

Up ahead, all the cars were being funneled through an inspection station. I didn’t feel this concerned me, and I had some great momentum, so I hauled ass at 20 mph towards a closed lane to bypass the wait. As I was going through, the border guards yelled out, “whoa whoa whoa.” So I stopped. Damn, that pissed them off. I told them I didn’t think I needed to stop. “What do you think we’re doing here?!” They told me to step away from the bike, and they had the dog sniff my bags. I was clean. I got out of there quick.

I made it to Encinal, TX. Really small town with nothing. But it had a big, active gas station. I started asking. Lots of rejections. Then a couple of Mexican guys came by. They were going to San Antonio. The guy said it was okay with him, but he’d have to ask his buddy. He went into the store. I stood outside, waiting and hoping. Not many options. He came out a few minutes later, “You ready? You want to throw your bike in the back?” Hell yeah dude.

Abel and Juan. I shook their hands, “Mucho gusto.” They rearranged the bed of their truck and helped me load it in there. They were from El Paso, but were doing construction down in Laredo. They were heading to San Antonio to catch a flight to El Paso. Apparently, they were up late the night before, partying until 3 am. Juan, who didn’t speak English, got some “good pussy.” When I told them I got a degree in engineering, they were all, “Ooooh, an engineer,” and “I’m not too good with math. I’m good and lifting stuff.” Abel was joking around about it, but it seemed like he wasn’t proud of his education. He told me he never went to high school; he stopped in the equivalent of 8th grade.

My host worked at the airport, and lived pretty close by, so it was lucky that Abel and Juan were going there. When we got to the airport, they only had about 30 minutes before their plane left. They helped me get my bike out of the truck, and I got a quick photo before they dashed for the terminal.

I biked over to Carey’s place. Once again, biking in a big city during Friday rush hour. This time, San Antonio.

Carey and Carrie

I met Carey and his (just-recently-engaged) fiance, Carrie. Carey and Carrie. They seemed a little weirded out at first. I found out it was their first hosting experience through CouchSurfing. “You’re not going to kill us or anything, right?” hahhaha. “You didn’t bring the swine flu with you, right?” hahahh. That kind of stuff isn’t cool. I understand it, but it puts me on edge. But they warmed up. Later on in my stay with them though, Carey told me he sent his family information on me “… just in case.” That’s something I didn’t need to know. It makes me feel distant. Like a piece of shit.

Carey and Carrie both work for Southwest airlines. Carey was on disability for a back injury. He’s a baggage handler. He was home for about a month, watching TV and walking the dog.

Carey had made spaghetti and offered me some. Great. I ran out to the store to pick up some brownies. Treat them to dessert. It’s tradition at this point.

There were a bunch of brownies left over, probably half the tray. I started getting ready for bed. A while later, after Carrie had already gone to sleep, I came out as Carey was carrying over a chunk of about 4 brownies in his hand. He’s a guy who prides himself on how much he eats. “I’m a big guy. I eat a lot.” Maybe his baggage handler friends like to talk about how much they eat. I didn’t really mind him eating the brownies.

What was weird though was that the next day, all the brownies were gone. I couldn’t find them anywhere. Dude, I made those, and it would be cool if you had left some for me. Give me the opportunity to have some more of the brownies I made. Oh and by the way, I had to buy the vegetable oil *and* eggs. Typically, our hosts would have that stuff, and Ryan and I would be able to use a 1/4 cup of oil and 1 egg . I had more invested in this batch. And now it was all gone. Damn.

Then, later in the day, when Carrie came home, she complained about Carey taking all the spaghetti. She was hungry. He laughed and made some comment about how much he likes to eat. Then he got defensive, and tried to show his good side, “Well, why do you think I saved you two brownies?” Generous guy. What the hell? I didn’t see any brownies. He saved the last two for Carrie. Hid them from me. He didn’t consider that I might want some. Selfish as shit. Inconsiderate.

Those were just some of the weird things I noticed. They were both pretty cool though. I had a good time with them. And, they had a bed for me in their guest room.

Remember the Alamo?

I went downtown to see San Antonio. Sweaty as shit. And I had to bike 15 miles. I wore my jeans and Apocalypse Briggs shirt. That shirt is disgusting. It gets all loose, and bells out at the bottom. I rolled up my jeans to get some air circulating. They were all loose, sweat-logged. Dirty, sweaty, loose, ill-fitting t-shirt with rolled-up, sweaty, loose-around-the-knee jeans and biking shoes. Damn, I was ugly. I was embarrassed how ugly I was. I hate that shirt the most. It sucks at keeping its structure. It just becomes a wet rag.

I found the Alamo. Big tourist attraction. Lots of people were out for the day, remembering the Alamo. I wanted a photo, but I couldn’t set up a self-timed shot; it would have been weird among all those people. I saw three cute Asian girls. They were taking photos of each other, giving peace signs. I asked one of them if she could take a photo of me. I thought it would be cool to get a photo with two of them, all of us giving peace signs, but when the time came, I was a flaccid penis. I didn’t have the courage. I looked like shit. They were from Vietnam. I gave a peace sign. Alone.

I read some stuff on the Alamo. And saw some relics. Pretty boring, really. It was cool to think that the battle happened right there though. We still remember you, Alamo. Even though you’re really boring, we still remember.

I rode around some more. Downtown San Antonio is really clean and well set-up for tourists. I spent about an hour in the tourist office because I mentioned I might want to take a bus back up to Carey’s. The ladies in there gathered pamphlets, looked online for info, and made phone calls all on account of me having a whim, and then later, not pursuing it. My stupid idea wasted their time and mine. They were too helpful.

I went to the Riverwalk. The famous San Antonio Riverwalk. It sounded beautiful. A natural wonder. I found it, a man-made canal with walkways surrounded by fake boulders. I took a moment, awe-struck by the man-made beauty.

Then I saw some Mission churches. Something else San Antonio is known for. Not much to say about it though.

At one point, as I rode back on my bike, a Jeep overtook me, and the driver yelled out, hurriedly, “You know the speed limit. It says share the road.” It happened so quickly that I was lucky to even realize he was saying something to me. And I don’t know what he meant, or if I even heard it right. What I imagine is that this guy was driving behind me for a little bit, thought of something clever to say, and was so nervously excited about delivering it that he totally screwed it up. Horrible execution. The pace of it was nervous and weak. And I was left confused.

I saw a Cici’s pizza, so I stopped and got a buffet for $4.99. I loaded up and left with a big ball of dough and cheese in my gut. Not really “satisfying.”

Partying with Carey and Carrie

Carey and Carrie were interested in going out. Carrie had done a home pregnancy test, and it looked like it was positive. She had been told through Ouija board that she’d be having twins. We went out to celebrate.

Carey was pumping out the “I’m a typical guy” jokes. Top of his game. And he was quick to tailor it to the pregnancy. “Since you’re pregnant, if you don’t want to gain a lot of that weird weight, just let me know what your cravings are, and I’ll eat them for you.” hahhahaha. Then at the bar, after bemoaning how this would be her last beer, Carey joked, “Hey, I’ll drink for you.” Big guys love to eat and drink. And sleep too, I bet. Big guys are cool!! Their jokes are great, and big.

As we left the bar, Carey and Carrie became fascinated by a car in the parking lot. “That car is beautiful. Man, if I had the money, I would buy that car in a heartbeat.” They both agreed. They loved that car. Slow down guys, you’re getting married and might be having twins.

Lubbock, TX to Albuquerque, NM

Posted on May 1, 2009 by ryguy

good bye west texas

Today was going to be a good day. I was going to see all the boring terrain through a car window. West Texas had defeated my spirits, and I hoped to be renewed by the geography of New Mexico. I was happy to cheat a little.

tx_lubbock_groupjump

Bryon and I said goodbye to Daniel. We looked into his eyes and saw an amazing boy. Charming. Julie, the fiance of Victor (Daniel’s roomate), jumped in on the final goodbye shot.

Bryon and I passed some pretty crappy scenery, but we had some good conversation. Bryon had followed a path that had been pushed on him by society. Get good education. Get good job. Get wife. Get nice house. Work work work. Three years ago, he divorced his wife and started traveling more. He told me of his travels such as climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. Damn. He’s a chemical engineer that now runs his own company. Consulting. I don’t know what he consults or to whom, but consult he does. He was traveling cross-country to scope out Fort Collins, CO because he is planning on moving there, away from South Carolina. I figured he was mid-20′s. He’s 35. Damn…young spirit.

tx_westtexas_nothing

The most interesting thing we saw during our drive through West Texas was a place that sold cherry cider. Yummmm.

coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee

I knew coffee addicts were out there, but holy shit…Bryon had to have coffee all the time. He stopped every hour or so to find coffee. Was his addiction really that bad? Yes. When he couldn’t get coffee, he whipped out his chocolate covered coffee beans. If that failed, he had a brewer in his car that he can also take in his backpack.

I skipped out the first few times, but then I started getting regular house coffee. I’ve never really drank coffee that much, but after being offered the drink by nearly all my hosts, it’s really grown on me.

albuquerque

We finally got to the city of Albuquerque, where we’d be staying with our couchsurfing host Brian. Brian, Bryon, and Ryan, the three happy cyclists with facial hair. Bryon and I drove around the city a little bit, and I was very impressed by what I saw. I expected Albuquerque to be a banking center out in the middle of desert. Wrong. It was a very cyclist-friendly town with lots of parks. A lot of the buildings were designed in the southwest stucco fashion, and there were American Indian designs on all of the highway structures. We even saw bike cops doing their ridiculous training in a park. “This is how you apply the brakes. Be sure to get good clearance off the ground.” What does that mean?

beer, skin lotion, and silence

Brian met us at his house after he got off from work. He cooked us a nice meal, and Bryon went to pick up some beer from a local brewery. We were enjoying good food and drinks when I found out the folks in Springer, NM wouldn’t be able to host me. Shit. I have to figure out what I’m going to do for the next few days. I needed internet to assist me.

I saw that Brian had a laptop by the sofa. I also saw that there was a bottle of skin lotion next to it. Damn, Brian. At least take that to your room. I felt weird asking him if I could use his laptop, hoping he wouldn’t notice I noticed the bottle of skin lotion next to it. “You know I know Brian…I know you do.”

The first beer hit me hard. Brian, a pretty small guy, got a couple beers into his system before we headed off to a bonfire gathering. It wasn’t much of a gathering. Two of Brian’s friends were hanging out in the backyard about to make a fire. Brian was hammered after another beer. He was swaying in his seat. Bryon and I were eventually falling asleep sitting in our chairs. Conversation often fell to silence, which eventually became very awkward. The frequency increased as time went on. I didn’t speak up because I found it amusing. Who was going to speak up, and what will you talk about? I’ve come to revel the awkward moments because they always seem to happen to me. What else could I do? I guess my face could turn red.

“Well, are you guys ready?” I did it. I just went full-force. No playing around. I didn’t even do the checking of the phone clock. Or the stretching and yawning.

During the walk home, Brian said he’d fix us breakfast before we took off. I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Brian was destroyed. He won’t be getting up except to vomit. I just had two beers because I knew I had to cycle the next day. He took his laptop to his room before we crashed in his living room. He forgot the skin lotion. Ouchies.

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Category Archives: Texas

Houston

The Traveling Roses

Hitching out of San Antonio

San Antonio

Lubbock, TX to Albuquerque, NM