Dog Day

October 21, 2007: Day 2.

Riding Stats: Distance today 35.5 miles. I do not have the other statistics as the cycling computer went crazy when placed near the battery of the MP-3 Player once saying I was averaging 78 miles an hour, when I wasn’t! I had forgotten the computer runs wireless from the wheel sensor to the computer on the handlebar and I guess the MP-3 player interfered. But why I didn’t have this problem yesterday, I don’t know. But when I moved the MP-3 away, the computer seemed to function normally.

After a great nights sleep in the motel and watching Cimarron’s favorites, the Red Sox, win we slept soundly. When I awakened this morning he was still in bed. He always gets up for the day at 4 or 5 AM. So I went back to sleep only to awaken at 9:15 AM! As my mother used to say, we must have been tired! We ate the “Big Breakfast” at MacDonald’s and then drove back to the route.

Today’s Route: It turns out in our mistake yesterday we missed the Murphy’s Ford cutoff four miles back! I can’t believe about 20% of yesterdays mileage was off route so we did just 22 official miles. So we lost that mileage and started where we should have turned off onto a very poor country lane for about 3 miles. This was a shortcut down a stream valley over Murphy’s Ford (now a small bridge) from one county road to another. There was a paved driveway at a sharp left turn and I learned later that Cimarron was confused here for about 30 minutes. On hiking and biking trails sometimes you just have to decide which “looks” like the right way and take it. Johnny Carson used to say, “When you come to the fork in the road, take it!” And that’s often what we do on these adventures. Of course, after the mistake yesterday, he was sensitive to any mistake so he drove in both directions to look for me. However, he went the wrong way first onto someone’s private property. Because of flat terrain I made 10 miles in the first hour so it took him almost two hours to find me.

The first ten miles were not indicative of the terrain today. At ten miles we came to a significant hill and I had to walk about a mile for the first time. Then two miles later I walked another mile of steepness. Later I walked two half-mile sections. Thank goodness no one builds a home on the steep sections as I could never out walk or out run the dogs pushing uphill! But, when you walk uphill, you know you’ll soon be going down and I had a great two mile 35 mph downhill to follow. Cimarron said he couldn’t hold back the van and wondered how I held back the stallion (our name for the bike). So, we were only able to do 35.5 miles today, with about 3 miles of it pushing the bike up hills.

For an hour or two we anticipated arrival in the town of Vincent In hopes of getting a cup of Cappuccino. The population of Vincent is said to be 144 and there was to be a store there. Cimarron came by and shouted out the window, “I’ll see you at the store and buy you a cup of Cappuccino. It’s only two miles.” I was somewhat rejuvenated and pedaled hard for the store. On arrival he was sitting in the van next to a closed ice cream stand with a sign, “Open 6 AM to 9 PM, Monday to Friday, and sometimes Sunday,” but apparently not this Sunday. I drank a diet cola and ate a pack of crackers and headed out the 6.5 miles for Booneville, KY, population 4000, looking for the Cappuccino.

Dogs: Today was the biggest “dog day” of my life. I was attacked 15 times (actual count) today. I define a dog attack if it meets ALL of the following criteria: the dog is unrestrained, growls and barks and acts aggressive, leaves the property and infringes onto the road surface, and pursues the bike or me closing to within 5 feet. That’s an attack! I will repeat, I was attacked 15 times today and only one was one of those dreaded Australian Dogs. On the first attack as I accelerated to about 15 mph I reached back for my Pepper Spray Water Pistol and it got stuck on a bungee on my rear rack bag. Under stress, I pulled it lose and broke off the storage tank and dumped three ounces of pepper sauce all over me, the bike, and my rack bag! The toothy dog, which was reaching for my right heel from about two feet away, abandoned the attack.

Twice later I had to fire my spray. The first occasion I was passing an idyllic home on a lake when I noted a women sitting in the grass by the shore. Suddenly her mutt charged out of the yard meeting all the criteria of an attack. In her Hillbilly accent she said, “Oh, Fido, come, come.” Well, he didn’t come. He chased me fifty yards down the road as I pedaled as fast as I could all the while nipping at my right heel from as close as six inches. Well, I sprayed bright orange pepper spray all over his face until he looked like Bozo the Clown. And Fido went home! I looked over my shoulder for an hour expecting Hillbilly husband in a pickup truck with a rifle, but he never showed. I even planned my speech. I figured he’d say, “You spray my dog, boy?” And I would say, “I don’t know, sir, did your dog attack me on the public road?”

On the second spraying episode two mutts charged out of the yard and one got within two feet as he sprinted beside me for fifty yards. I shouted, “Go home, mutt.” And with building confidence I swayed the bike over toward him and he swerved off the road. He must have been sprayed before, as he was wary in his attack. But he made the mistake of coming back at me a second time so I sprayed him orange faced and he also went on home losing interest in the attack.

For you mutt lovers, let me emphasize that my spray shoots all of five feet. If I hit a mutt at that distance he was too close.

My good crewman, Cimarron the Trail Boss, stopped at a Family Dollar store and bought me two new squirt guns (for 13 cents each at an end of year sale). Now we are looking for a holster to put on the handlebars. I want to shoot them from a little further distance. Fifteen attacks in one day are way too many. Recall my blog entry of last summer when I met two girls traveling eastbound on the Trans-Am as I was going west. They told me they skipped several hundred miles of Kentucky, as the dogs were far too aggressive. And they rode the whole country from the Pacific to the Atlantic and Kentucky’s dogs were the worst. I believe it.

The people of Kentucky: The folks have been marvelous. They have all been friendly and respectful and helpful. But today I finally met the stereotype in Booneville when I bought my Cappuccino from a female clerk in the gas station. It cost 1.23 and two Reese Cups cost 1.20 for a total of 2.43. I handed her 5.00 and she gave me 2.02 change. I said, “Don’t I get 2.57, and she said, “I don’t know, here’s 55 cents. My register is broke or something.”

Everyone seems to smoke cigarettes. We have seen falling down tobacco barns and very little tobacco growing or hanging to dry. It looks like over all business is not good, but local business seems to be booming. There are discount tobacco stores in every village. All the cars going by have smokers aboard. Customers are even smoking in restaurants and at the gas pumps. As I sat sipping my Cappuccino in front of the gas station in Booneville I saw three drivers throw lighted butts out amongst the pumps.

We asked a nice woman in Booneville (population 4000) about a motel. She said, “there are none in this county but up in Beattyville 15 miles north there is a motel I’d recommend.” She was about the only person who wasn’t smoking and wore a Myrtle Beach T-shirt. And she wore it rather nicely, I must say (Oh, that’s wrong, I shouldn’t have said that!). And then Cimarron, the 85 year old said, “If she didn’t look like that you wouldn’t have asked her.” When we arrived in Beattyville the motel clerk/owner arrived at the smoke filled lobby desk with a long fag hanging from his lips saying, “Need a room boys?” And in unison we said, “Do you have any nonsmoking rooms?” He said (and I swear this is true), “We have one, and no one wanted it, so you are in luck.” I asked if my bike might be safe on the back of the van and he said, “There’s a black dog roving around here and he keeps the place safe.” I said, “Dogs don’t like me, am I safe?” He said, “The son-of-a-bitch won’t bite you, he’ll just scare the hell out of you.” Then he said, “By the way boys, I gave you the old people’s discount.”

We are in for the night to see the Steelers and Red Sox. Maybe we’ll camp sometime in the future, but don’t bet on it!

What a great country