This morning, Amanda, the motel manager who was so kind to us yesterday, knocked on our door. She wanted to talk, and to take a photo that she will use to promote the Ride.
Amanda sees things as they are. She says that regular people need lawyers, and medical care, and affordable housing, and that asylum applicants are no different. She added that all of us are descended from refugees.
Ready to roll! (Photo courtesy of Amanda, who’s now following the Ride.)
A pretty morning in Garden City.
Halfway up the mountain, we looked back at Bear Lake.
Near the top, we looked backward over our give-us-space pool noodle to see the warning for trucks descending to Garden City. 8% means that for every 25 feet we traveled, we climbed 2 feet.
What is an elk hunting unit?
It’s still winter up there.
Jeffrey’s phone altimeter read 7780’, our highest reading of this Ride, 1780’ higher than our morning start. Breathe! Breathe!
After climbing for 6 miles, we descended for more than 30 miles.
We enjoyed spectacular views once we got out of the snow.
After 40 miles, we reached the outskirts of Logan. Destination: Joy Ride bike shop.
Yesterday at the Idaho-Utah border, Jeffrey tried to stop a fender rattle that had driven him crazy for hundreds of miles. He didn’t stop the rattle. He did cause the fender to rub against a tire.
Jeffrey struggled for 45 minutes at roadside to set things right, gave up and removed the fender. A bare tire sprays sand and water and spins dangerously close to Jeffrey’s hands. He wanted the fender reinstalled.
Mechanic Adam to the rescue!
It took almost 2 hours of trial and error, but in the end, Adam got the fender back on the bike, and somehow eliminated the rattle too.
While Adam worked, Jeffrey talked with Mando, a fellow cyclist. He’s from Guam and is a pilot for a major U.S. airline. He and Jeffrey compared international notes and talked about human rights. Most of Mando’s flights are between Guam and Tokyo. He is in Logan visiting friends.
Carlos (born in Mexico), Enrique (born in Venezuela), and Kai (born in the USA) like our vehicle. Carlos spoke for himself and Enrique about the poison of corruption in their native countries. Good people, terrible government. Jeffrey asked the men how they are received locally. Carlos lived 7 years in Mississippi. He likes Utah much better.
Wes is holding one of our cards. He laments the poor state of cyclist safety in Utah. He blames the lack of communication between the cycling and the farmer/rancher communities. We blame lack of communication for our country’s immigration and asylum problems. Everyone wants safe roads, and a safe, prosperous, and humane country. We’ll only achieve these things if stakeholders talk things through to make arrangements that we all can live with. Congress? Never mind.
South of Logan. We like the colors. The background. The sign. The silhouette.
Living Village, American West Heritage Center.
We pedaled for miles to climb 1200’ above Logan.
Then we had a 7 mile descent to Brigham City.
Most drivers here do indeed share the road. We rarely felt pressured by motorists.
Remember the morning winter? This afternoon we were in full-bloom spring. It’s all about altitude.
These ancient sedimentary rocks were formed from erosion from even more ancient mountains into ancient lakes and seas. It makes human squabbles seem fleeting and silly.
After 90 miles, Ogden at last! Kambrie, an intending graphic artist, greeted us at our motel. She already has checked out this blog . . .
. . . and found a place for us to stow the folded Sprint 26, until our Utah friend Scott picks it up tomorrow to keep until we return next year for the 13th annual Ride for Human Rights. Kambrie believes in the mission of Human Rights First.
Someone in the motel parking lot believes in something too. Or rather, believes in someone. Does this person know that the air resistance of each of these flags reduces gas mileage? Aerodynamics must be a socialist plot.
Kambrie wasn’t the only helpful neighbor. Reese, tired from a long drive followed by a day of shoveling at a sanitary landfill project, helped Jeffrey maneuver the trike up the steps and through the narrow doors of this old motel. Jeffrey talked about why we do the Rides. Reese acknowleged the issues, and remarked at Jeffrey’s lack of a NYC accent. That’s one of the characteristics that helps us get along so well in the Heartland.
Jeffrey went next door in search of sustenance. In recognition of the goals of the Ride—to talk to people, and to support Human Rights First—Kimberly gave Jeffrey a special deal at what we learned is the last Blimpie’s sandwich shop in Utah. She was delighted to know that Jeffrey once lived in Hoboken, NJ, home of the original Blimpie’s. Note the sandwich named for Hoboken.
We said we would bike from Seattle to Utah. And we did.
Your support—your comments, your ”likes”, your messages public and private, your donations—is an essential part of a successful Ride. We have the heart to do this, to bike all day and publish an illustrated essay every night, only because we know you’re out there. We can’t respond to all, so we don’t respond to any. Yet we’re grateful for every one.
Tonight we pack our bags. Bags to stay. Bags to go.
Tomorrow night we fly home to NYC.
Give us a few days to catch our breath.
Then we’ll post a wrap-up.
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