Miles to date: 3,749.2
We got a text from friend Tim Lenning today, wishing us well on our final days and complimenting our new jerseys. Thanks again Dr. Pink for the flashy new garb! After a brief discussion about the jerseys, Geeto quoted his favorite philosopher, George Carlin: “Somewhere in the world is the worst doctor, and he’s seeing patients tomorrow.”
We left the Pleasant Valley Motel shortly after sunrise today, happy to find ourselves free of bed bugs. And though the mattresses bounced like a clown house, we slept pretty well. We were greeted by gray skies, temperature of 56 degrees, a damp feeling air, and a 1-mile hill with 6% uphill grade to start the day.
We left the motel on an empty stomach with a short 4 miles to Stockbridge Massachusetts. I want tell you about the town of Stockbridge, Massachusets, where this happened here, they got three stop signs, two police officers, and one police car… Stockbridge is home to Arlo Guthrie’s famous crime. Arlo’s music was a mainstay in our household in my early years and I’ve seen Arlo perform 4 times: every time he played a version of Alice’s Restaurant. So, being close on our location, I diverted us from the suggested route to pass through Stockbridge.
Alice’s Restaurant is now the Stockbridge Cafe, which looked friendly and inviting, but we were looking for a quick coffee and breakfast so we could get on with our 72 miles. So, we rolled past the cafe and I said, “What about breakfast at Tiffany’s?” We had coffee and French toast, and as I recall, we both kinda liked it.
Fueled by bread and syrup, we were ready to tackle what proved to be a hilly, challenging, gorgeous and fun day. We periodically marveled aloud at the beauty and great biking experience. Though we were on roads instead of trails all day, they were quiet and scenic. The miles seemed to fly by; even the difficult climbs (one 4 miles long) were exhilarating with beautiful surroundings. We felt truly blessed to have this experience with only two days left in our journey. I expect things will get more urban and mundane as we move toward Providence Rhode Island; in fact the last 15 miles today were depressing as we traveled north of Hartford Connecticut and rode adjacent to the interstate and it’s drone of trucks and commuters. But our memories of the day will be of crisp autumn air and a canopy and carpet of colorful foliage complemented by the sounds of birdsong and rushing waters. The ride today ranks very high on the list of our 52 days on the road.
Early in the day we also crossed the Appalachian Trail; it was not obviously marked, and we might’ve missed it altogether if a single female hiker with a large backpack hadn’t crossed the road right in front of Geeto. We would’ve liked to have a conversation about our journeys, but she seemed to be on a mission and despite her neon wardrobe quickly disappeared in the dense forest.
Halfway through our day, we stopped in historic Riverton Connecticut. It was here that we realized, Massachusetts had come and gone; we spent less than 24 hours in the state. I’ve been to Boston and Cape Cod, but western MASS left a very positive impression; I may never return to the area, but I would be happy to have reason to do so. Western Connecticut left the same impression, until we got to the dumps of northern Hartford; the area has a lot of natural beauty and outdoor recreation that was impressive.
And then… we ended our day at the Manchester Motel in its namesake town in Connecticut. We pulled into the parking lot at 2:30, just in time to witness a gray haired overweight Uber Eats delivery driver preparing to square off against a much younger shirtless Uber Eats customer who was a motel resident. There were several profanities exchanged (which I can’t repeat here); fists were raised against one another with commands of, “You take the first swing!” “No, YOU take the first swing!” “Go ahead %*#£&, just try me!” Etc, etc, etc… I thought about walking up to the second floor landing to attempt some peace-keeping, but it seemed that our mere presence was enough to throw some water on their fire; without any punches thrown they walked in opposite directions.
We had to wait in the parking lot for 15 minutes before the owner (?) showed up to check us in. As we waited, we had a shorty recovery drink that we picked up coming into town; then another customer pulled up to check in, we’ll call him “John”. We told John we called the owner and he should be here in 5 minutes; so John went back to wait in his SUV with tinted windows and a passenger we couldn’t quite see. In this time an old man slowly traversed through the parking lot and then took to leaning against the wall outside of room 122; we couldn’t tell if he was a resident or passing vagrant/junkie, but he fit right in to the sketchy human tapestry.
As we waited to check in, we were certain this place was on the podium of worst places we’ve stayed. Le Petit Dragon in Belle River Ontario was the early leader, but the Pleasant Valley Inn last night overtook the top spot; the Manchester Inn looked like a bronze medalist from the outside, but the sign welcoming “Day Sleepers” in distinctive red lettering suggested a possible new champion.
When we got into room 119, it was clear we had a new champion: When we walked in, it was clear that “Non-smoking rooms” must’ve meant the rooms wouldn’t be on fire, or smoldering when we arrived; it seemed cigarette smoking was more of a requirement in this room rather than a distasteful option. There were cigarette burns on both bedspreads, the tub, and even the shower curtain. Cigarette burns on the shower curtain! There appeared to be a bullet hole next to what will be Geeto’s bed. There were no bedside lamps, let alone a clock, and no chance of a convenient power supply for phone chargers. There wasn’t a trash receptacle anywhere… not in the main room or the bathroom… apparently we’re expected to leave our garbage out, or stuff it into the hole in the wall where there once seemed to be a closet. No coffees maker, no ice bucket, not even a plastic cup to get some water from the rusty faucet. Le pièce de résistance… when Geeto went into the shower, the deteriorating and moldy wall by the shower head elicited his patented cackle… several cackles actually. If you know Geeto, you know his cackle, and this cackle was prolonged and unabashed. And, after showering as we prepared to depart our separate ways, Geeto to do laundry and me to put my right thumb to work describing the motel, we found two police cars, a fire truck and EMTs loading the old man from outside room 122 into an ambulance. Now, John’s SUV with tinted windows was parked in front of room 122. It seems the John didn’t care for the drunken old man lurking outside their “day sleeper” room.
Tomorrow we have reservations at the Hampton Inn in Providence; there’s little chance that property will knock any of these motels off the dumpiest motel podium. We have 77 miles to ride, and it looks to have some challenges again with hills, but the wind and weather look favorable, and we’ll be high on adrenaline being our penultimate ride. Day 53: Manchester to Providence
For Spotify playlist addition tonight…
I always enjoy Alice’s Restaurant; Andy Beck played this two days ago, much to my surprise and delight. But, I’m going to put a different Arlo song on the list (as suggested by my mom!) Massachusetts.
Also, sticking with a recent theme and keeping it in the family… my sister Ellen introduced me to Southern Comfort on the Skids. I’ve enjoyed seeing them twice at small Chicago area venues: once where my daughter Caroline got on stage to sing along and dance while throwing fried chicken legs to the adoring crowd. They’re a fun band with fun songs like: Cheap Motels
Two days remain. I think any doubters about our ability to complete this journey are now expecting to be proven wrong. Geeto and I certainly have little doubt; even after we absorb residual nicotine from our bedding tonight, we’ll be raring to go at sunrise tomorrow.
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