The first three hours of my Labor Day ride were foggy and cool. Not cold enough for a jacket, but cool and damp enough to be a little uncomfortable, so I didn’t stop much.
The roads had pretty narrow shoulders at times, but drivers were very courteous and safe. I am on the ACA Pacific Coast trail, and people are used to seeing bicyclists. However, on one straight stretch of road, without a solid no-passing line, and no oncoming traffic, a very shiny red Mustang passed me really closely. I didn’t yell or make an obscene gesture — I just threw up my left arm in an exasperated “What the heck?” shrug. Brake lights. The driver stopped in the middle of the road and got out. It was a woman and she was already yelling at me. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but when I got closer she was yelling about how “you guys” are rude. I asked, “Who are ‘you guys?’” and she said “you people” need to share the road. I was riding on the edge of the road, so I asked her where she expected me to ride and she changed the subject to taxes and licenses. I pointed out that I pay taxes. She got in her car and sped off, and I just shook my head.
A little while later, I heard a couple dogs barking, then they came charging out of their driveway. They were chocolate labs, and one only had three legs. There is no way a chocolate lab is going to bite me, so I stopped and talked soothingly to them. The three-legged one backed away with his hair standing on end, but the other one clearly wanted to be friends. He got really wiggly and started to pick up a stick. I think he wanted to play. The other one was still barking and trying to look scary, so I decided not to wake up his family on Labor Day and kept going.
When I got to Shelton, I stopped at Safeway (FRESH FRUIT!!!!!) before heading to my motel, a block away. There were a couple panhandlers sitting twenty feet from the bike rack, so I was a little nervous about leaving my bags there. I took all the visible gadgets in the store with me. When I got back out, another person had joined them, and I was relieved to be on my way. When I got to the motel, I reached for my wallet. IT WAS GONE!!!! I dumped all my stuff out on the sidewalk to confirm it was missing, then poked my head into the motel office to tell her I’d be right back. I zoomed back to the grocery store, wondering where my wallet was. When I pulled up to the bike rack, there it was — still sitting in the cart!!!! Relief washed over me. If you lose your wallet once on a bike tour, you’re unlucky. If you do it twice, you might have a problem!
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