Bragging Rights, Other Desert Cities, and an Iced Tea

Day: 52 (Austin, NV to Fallon, NV)

Average Speed: 11.8 MPH

Miles Cycled Today: 111.8

Miles Cycled Total: 3, 560

Mood: Sleepy

Decor on a Resident's Fence in Austin

Absolutely.

The sign before hitting town said “What Happens in Austin, You Brag About.”

I have no problem with that. 

I GOT TO SLEEP ON THE BRIDGE IN THE PLAYGROUND!!! 

I GOT TO SLEEP ON THE BRIDGE IN THE PLAYGROUND!!! 

Hope that didn’t come off too cocky. 

Me, Perfectly Content

I was the tiniest bit jealous last night when Jamie laid claim to the bridge and I was forced into the caboose. But then a miracle happened: It rained. And it felt just like sprinklers, which, I have learned, drive British people to the point of madness. 

So he set up his tent. And the rain stopped. And I relocated. TO THE SWINGING BRIDGE! It was wonderful. 

By the way, it rained. 

Thanks to Looney Tunes depictions, I went through 36 years with a skewed picture of what a desert actually is, and there are a few myths that I would like to dispel. And since I have been riding through desert for more than a few days, I am obviously an expert.  

1) It rains. Big heavy, welcome deserty drops.

2) It need not be flat or at a low elevation. I’ve climbed 15 summits since hitting Nevada.  

3) It’s not always hot. In fact, it’s pretty damn cold at night. 

4)  Cactuses (Yeah, I know… it’s Cacti… but that’s dumb. It’s Cactuses to me, okay?) do not need to have three prongs. 

5) Dry Heat vs. Humid Heat is a world of difference. My brother-in-law always rolls his eyes when somebody complaining about New York summers says “It’s not the heat that gets to me… it’s the humidity.” Well… it’s true. I love this heat. I daresay it’s refreshing. I remember wondering how I was going to survive the desert back in Missouri when I was putting away three bottles of water every 15 miles and soaked through in my own sweat. I’ll take 110 degrees in the desert over 85 in Missouri any day. 

6) The chances of an anvil being dropped on your head are slim. And as far as I can tell, there is no company named Acme offering tours of their factory. I’ve been keeping an eye out. 

I’m a bit disappointed that I haven’t passed a scraggly-bearded man in rags crawling on the side of the road hoarsely calling “Water! Water!” to no one in particular. I assumed this would happen several times and I would come to the rescue, sparing a few ounces of my lava-hot liquid gold. But everybody seems pretty well hydrated out here. 

Doesn't that Mountain Look Like a Painting?

Jamie Takes a Selfie. 

Anyway, the partner ride today was… long. Easy, but long. 


After leaving the quirky town of Austin, which unabashedly flies Trump banners throughout (I’m pretty sure Victor- the owner of the dive I went to for dinner last night- charged me double because I looked and smelled like the Bernie supporter that I am), and stopping to chat with the cast of Revenge of the Nerds, who were participating in the hilarious LeMons Rally (it’s worth reading up on), Jamie and I sailed out of town and began the 110 mile trek to Fallon. 

Dave, Participant in LeMons Rally

Today's Route (Heavy Black Line)

We crossed four summits today. But if I’m being honest, only the first one really counted. If your child is ever playing in a sandbox in Nevada and creates a mound, there’s a good chance someone might come along and put a green summit sign at the top. The hills of Illinois (the ones Joop said didn’t exist… if I ever see that guy again, hold me back), were more daunting than the last three of today's climbs. 

But we did four summits. And I have pictures of the signs to prove it. 

In the Road, Waiting for Us

And there was even a big cold can of iced tea waiting for us on the shoulder of the road after crossing the first one.

A Simple Gift

Back in Virginia, an eastbounder was talking about the Western Express route and guaranteed that at some point, a motorist would leave a cold beverage for me on the side of the road. 

Truth. 

Today, a passing car gave us a thumbs up, and in the distance we watched as he pulled over, got out of his car, set something on the shoulder, and continued on his way. 

This small act is a true sign of selflessness. He didn’t even want a “Thank-You” from us. I have no idea what he looks like, what he does for a living, or where he was headed. And he knows just as much about me. 

Simple kindness without the need for recognition. That’s good stuff. 

We rode well into the night tonight and landed in Fallon at about 11 PM, where we are Motel 6-ing it. 

If Fallon had a sign encouraging us to brag, I’d say I GOT TO TAKE A SHOWER! I GOT TO TAKE A SHOWER! 

But Fallon’s not nearly as cool as Austin. 

I'd forego another shower for that bridge any day.

P.S.

How low is this aircraft flying that cars need to be warned?!?

And what the heck are they supposed to do with this knowledge?