Day 18- Southport to Darien, miles 566-594 +2 bikes down

Today did not go as planned, but we made it to where we needed to be in one piece. What did not make it in one piece was the two bikes I broke….

We started the morning with the famous Kosciusko Thunder Cakes (guaranteed to get things moving within 2 hours). We’ve decided that we are going to compile some recipes from this trip, so be on the lookout for these. They live up to their promise. Then, Caroline brought us out some Whipped Coffees. If you missed this trend during quarantine, it’s a foamy and flirty way to get your morning jolt.

We then met Hector, Caroline’s downstairs neighbor. He was washing his bike down, and noticed ours (much dirtier!) Hector is a bike mechanic, so we had lots to talk about. He checked out our rigs, and couldn’t help but grease our chains and tighten things up. This was his version of “paying it forward”. A few years ago, he motorcycled to Argentina and back. He claims to own his success to the kindness of strangers. We know this feeling. Strangers can be very kind. But today, we owe it big time to our parents.

The first bike was lost in a crash in Norwalk. Human (me) on bike against inanimate object (parked car). It’s the best type of crash if we had to choose. I spaced out, and totally did not register the stationary car on the side of the road. Wham. Handlebars to trunk, and I ended up on the back of the car. Just a bruise to add to my collection, and my pride brushes a little. But otherwise I’m fine. I do not take this for granted.

The car is okay too, but not unscathed. I’m waiting for my phone to ring…

The bigger issue after this booboo is that my front wheel would no longer spin. This made getting to our next stop a real challenge. The wheel was jammed back into the frame of my bike, and totally stuck. The fork had bent. The gentleman at REI confirmed my fear. Since it had buckled, it would be dangerous to bend back into place. It could not be fixed today. I’d have to find another bike to finish the trip with.

But I’ll back up and tell you how I got to REI….

We wheeled the bike via the back wheel only to a bike store we weren’t sure really existed. If it did exist, according to Google Maps, it shared a parking lot with a funeral parlor. This is both odd and symbolic. The bike shop didn’t exist, so we phoned our favorite local mom. Thankfully, we do not have too much pride to hold off on calling a mom, and we definitely made the right call here. I was a little shaken up, but I could swear her car had a siren on top. Kelly’s mom scooped me and my sad bike up and away to REI we went. The rest pedaled on to our friend Anya and her boyfriend Chris.

Sadly, I missed this visit. But from what I hear, there was fruit salad, seltzer, and smiles.

As the rest continued on to the next stop, Kelly’s mom and I brought my bike pieces back to Kelly’s home. I regrouped and hopped onto her dad’s old mountain bike. It needed a little air in the tires, but did the job to make the 7 miles to Kelly’s boyfriend, Colin’s house in Greenwich.

I’ve grown comfortable with the synergy of being part of a team, so biking solo felt lonely. I arrived swiftly to Colin’s and was able to fill in the others on my solo adventures.

We’ve been hearing a lot about Colin on this trip, so to meet him was a long time coming. He and his family cooled us off with popsicles and Gatorade, and a yummy fruit salad. Thanks, Barefoots!

We then left to get back on track with our day as scheduled. I was getting used to riding a mountain bike and MK remarked on how loud the tires were humming. When I looked back to check it out, joke was on us. I was riding on a pancake. Another bike down. The bike was exhausted, and so was I.

Another moment for a mom in a shining Subaru. Kelly’s mom once again was on her way to pick me and a broken bike. As we waited, the people at our next stop decided to bring their visit to us! Gazal, an incoming UCONN med student, and Molly, a brilliant nursing school graduate, had a lovely UConn undergrad reunion with Talia and met us on patch of grass. We were sad we couldn’t see the decorations they had set up, but we turned lemons into lemonade.

I made it back to the Jones home, I was exhausted but not defeated. Because I had a glimmer of hope: another bike was on its way, via my parents.

My mom and dad were glad they didn’t have to meet me in the emergency room, so they, too, rose to the occasion of being bike AAA. They hauled away my bike chunks and left me with my old commuter bike. I’m ready to hit the road now! THANKS parents.

Now, we are well fed and tired, which is a theme for these posts. A little bike drama, but our families showed up for us. We laugh often about what we would do if we were actually going cross country this summer. I know that Moms and Dads would not be driving out to the Dakotas to make sure we can hit the road again the next day. I’m happy we’re so close to home.

After a day of bike drama, we’re now being treated to another bike drama— a movie that Mr. Jones is setting up projected on a sheet outside. Breaking Away. It’s about biking. I hope no one crashes in it. I’m just happy I’m not breaking away from this team. Or broken.

Sarah