Days 18-21 - Boring, bland, blasé, mundane - Relative to other days

So with the journey on pause (due to a legal nightmare in MD), the excitement and sweat was dramatically reduced. However, interesting and intriguing events have occurred.

Thursday AM, I got to the Phoenix airport well in advance of my flight.

On my flight from Phoenix to Houston, I met a very interesting fellow passenger in my row. He told me of a really cool website where I subsequently registered for my bicycling journey. The website is named CouchSurfing.org seems to be a remarkable opportunity. On this website, people from all over the globe open up their homes to travelers/vagabonds (see Tim Swartz). And in a search, I have found many folks on my route that are willing to open their homes and couches for my weary butt and a shower for my stinky armpits (well, not just my pits, I'm hoping for my whole body).

In a manner similar to eBay, guests rate hosts and vice versa. I believe this will make my journey just that much more exciting. It will provide me with interesting networking opportunities and potential fodder for this very blog.

On my evening flight from Houston to Baltimore, I saw some wonderful visions out my tiny window including a lunar display, though it was difficult to photograph the moon well. United Airlines, their windows and I apologize for the poor lunar photography.

Upon landing, I was greeted by my niece and a friend. With a craving for a great plate of nachos, we ended up at High Topps Backstage Grill. Please see the important proof below.

On Friday, after a day spent with some attorneys for giggles alone, I met with my very special friends, who helped me through the one of the most difficult periods of my life, and pulled crazy wheelies in the back yard. Well, lame wheelies on the back yard, but still absolutely invaluable time with my buddies Susan and Matt.

Saturday, I don't remember much other than yapping with a few people, giggling with a foreign-born soul, and  enjoying a gorgeous Saturday. Unfortunately, a friend's cat dander found my nose! Yet another feline and it's satanic skin cells making me miserable.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. Trader Joe's found it's way to my car and I was able to obtain some significant yummers. That's about all I can remember. Boring, boring, boring.

Monday, today, the big day of court to end a 15 year nightmare, came and went, with no time in the halls of justice. After a restless night of sleep, thinking of the court hearing, court date was postponed because of training of three judges along with others from other counties. Booooooo! With all hope and more hope, I beg the madams and sirs in the Baltimore County courthouse to get me into a courtroom tomorrow! I don't want to fly back to MD again until my cycling journey is complete!

On the upside, I had a really funny dream overnight. In the dream, I had a four topic stand-up comedy routine I was doing at a nightclub. I remembered all four topics and the crowd laughed quite a lot. But then I woke up to find out my case was postponed. Boogers, boogers and more boogers!!!

In the afternoon, I grabbed F.G. Superman, Jr (my mountain bike that remained on the east side of the continent when I started my journey) and headed out for a ride with my friends Wes Scantlin, Brian Johnson, and Zach De La Rocha and spun 20 miles.

After sweating buckets, I found my way to a shower and dinner. With my gullet filled, I plopped on the couch and chilled with my parental units and laughed at the funniest show on television - It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

So, now it is time to rest, hope for a great stand-up routine and a prayer for a call to come to join a robed referee to call me to court tomorrow.

I anticipate this blog will soon be playful and visually more stimulating soon!

Peace!

Day 4,342 I think.

Well, before I get to day 17, I must tell you about my conclusion of day 16. I actually showered. I then went to a local cafe and bought some freshly squeezed orange juice. Not as good as Kofa Cafe, but better, by a long shot, than Minute Maid or Tropicana. I heard of the best place in Scottsdale to see the sunset. I mentally geared up myself and my camera for the grand vision.

I made my way there to find out from the hostess that since January when she arrived in Scottsdale that this was only the second time she has worked at the restaurant where there was not an amazing sunset - it was overcast and she was chilly. Ugh. I had a really yummy drink called a Russian Mule, but still didn't make up for a cloudy sunset.

In the mood for Thai food, I found a place that had quite an amazing curried vegetable dish with peanut sauce. I almost wept with joy. The spicy curry made my nose run and sparked some endorphin action! Hooray. I found my way with full belly to bed.

After some additional nagging by those attorney types, I was forced to research more nonsense for the extended dance mix party in the courthouse next week. As a result, my friends at United Airlines get to see me tomorrow when I make a journey eastward...not to worry, I'll be back on F.G. Superman soon and then complete my ride. I'm really excited to complete the journey and overcome the 8,000 ft + section of the Continental Divide in New Mexico.

While out today, faxing documents, hitting hardware stores for missing screws on racks, and a stop at the Scottsdale Public Library (absolutely gorgeous incidentally), I stopped at a pizza bistro (not a pizzeria, a pizza bistro - sounds pretentious). Awesome thin crust pizza. If in Scottsdale, go visit http://www.oreganos.com/index_main.html. I was surprised by the very friendly, almost party, atmosphere at 1:30 in the afternoon. Stanley enjoyed it as well.

Just down the block from Oreganos was the following sign that was strangely disturbing:

The next sign I expected to see immediately thereafter was Hugh Hefner's Day Care Center. But it wasn't to be.

At the library, I scored some more music for my iPod. Chris Cornell, Rancid, Moby and New Found Glory all joined the musical menagerie that is my auditory consumables.

Because tomorrow is a travel day, courtesy of United Airlines, I'm going to pack up F.G. Superman and leave him at my cousin's place for safe keeping. I'll be flying the friendly skies and go play in the Baltimore area for a few days before returning to Scottsdale to complete the journey I'll hopefully be able to impart to grandchildren, if not mine, then someone else's. 

Day 16 (I think) - Part 1 maybe?

I woke from my suburban porch camping to a blue sky (not a real shocker in the Arizona desert). Stepped into the condo and opened up some Trader Joe's eggplant and had a morning feast and finished Day 15's entry on laptop out on the porch away from Satan Kitty and her dander.

Upon completion of my microwave bounty, I headed out for a little ride to Camelback Mountain to for a hike (go ahead an check it out - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camelback_Mountain ) on F.G. Superman. I wore hiking shoes instead of my cycling shoes for the few miles to the trail head. It just felt funny not to be clipped into pedals, almost like getting braces off - it just feels funny but it become the new normal.

At one point, I looked up and saw some beautiful cloud formations (possible cirrus clouds - surely you can't be serious).

As I rode to the mountain, I reflected upon the last time I ascended the mountain approximately 5 years earlier. At the peak of the mountain, I met a gentleman who ascended to the peak following the Echo Canyon Trail. I chose the Cholla Trail. It was late 2005 or early 2006 when we met and began discussing a variety of topics including professions. He was a residential real estate investor (A flipper). I recall telling him that I sold my two residential investment properties in Bethlehem, PA not too long ago because I was certain that people were being stupid and that real estate was the new tech bubble. I will never forget that he assured me that Phoenix was the perfect market and that there was no way real estate was a bubble. He was smug about it too, describing what he would do in his retirement by the age of 40. I was hoping to meet him at the pinnacle of the same mountain to see how far he had fallen financially. Would I hate to say, "I told ya so dude,"? (how the heck do you do this punctuation here????) I most certainly would.

If there is one thing I think I can tell in this world, it is when people are being irrational. I saw the same in the tech bubble. I recall reading about in the Wall Street Journal about 4 guys in a transmission repair shop who would run over to a computer set up in the service area and make day trades for AOL stock. I AM NOT SMART, but even I knew that was stupid!

I hit the trail head for the Cholla Trail. At the trail head, I locked up F.G. Superman to a no parking sign (primarily out of spite). I met a woman at the base of the well-traveled trail and invited her to join me on the hike up. She advised she had just come down (she wasn't even sweating - not fair - I sweat looking at a sunset on television) and was awaiting her friends. Of course Capt. Babbles told her what I was doing on my bike journey, gave her my Vagabond card and discussed what I planned to do to raise money. She was rather excited to see the blog. Right about that time, her 6 or 7 friends returned from the trail. I suddenly became Kenny Kodak and took a photo of the posse. The woman I initially met told the others about my journey. One shook my hand and said, "Mazel tov!" First time I had ever been wished good luck in Hebrew. Maybe she saw my last name on the Vagabond card at a quick glance and thought it said Schwartz...Eh, I'll take it! I'll take luck, good fortune and blessings.

Up the trail I started. I recalled the trail fairly well and was hopeful to get photos of some creeping, crawling, slithering, flying or undulating creatures. I'm still on a mission to photograph the spry desert quail. They are about as elusive as a good family owned pizza shop in Phoenix.

There were a few folks that blew past me, but being in fairly good athletic condition, I was able to head up the mountain fairly easily. However, there were times when I absolutely positively had to stop, suck down some water and suck in some oxygen. The ascent, in parts, was hand grabs and hop ups (new climbing terms I just made up). Ultimately I was able to make it to the top, photograph a few critters and take some pretty photos

A lizard of some sort. Don't have my Audubon book. Oh, that's for birds.

This guy saw me coming and ran up and posed for a nice front shot!

Looking up at the vertical I needed to climb along the way.

Flat Stanley and I at the peak of Camelback Mountain.

Place with a view.

Another place with a view.

Heading back down.

Another view - This is for the golfers like Tara.

Yet another view.

Kind of funny...the dark flat patch is new since the last time I was hiking here. It's on a flat between the peaks for helicopters to land for knuckleheads who forget water and pass out I suppose.

Kind of hard to see, but Stan the Man is hanging on a saguaro cactus. Pretty gutsy call for the flat dude. No injuries were reported.

 And so as I headed down I decided to jog a bit to keep my fitness level high. As I ran, I was listening to Audioslave and the Foo Fighters. Wow! What a kick in the pants to get downhill. Then you throw in some Rage Against the Machine, "Testify" and you have some motivation! I was singing along with the boys and loudly I might add! I don't care who hears me on this mountain. But one thing I noticed when running and hopping up and down and around rocks, obstructions and chaparral  - I grunt a lot! As I proceeded, I paid attention to my utterances. I'm a male version of Monica Seles when running! I quickly looked for some stalker with a knife. (Let's see who gets that reference.)

So I tried my darnedest to photograph a desert quail, but got nothing. Otherwise you'd see a photo of one here.

Tonight is a chillin' evening and just gonna grab some Starbucks coffee perhaps and a light meal. Tomorrow, no plans yet, and I like it that way! Thursday, well, that's a different story.

Peace.

Day 15 - Attorneys - We don't need no stinkin' attorneys, well

I'm on a temporary traveling hiatus. I'm kinda stuck in Scottsdale...I'll explain in about a week.
With great intentions of hiking the Phoenix / Scottsdale AZ famous Camelback mountain immediately upon waking (well after checking emails of course), I received an email from some stinkin' attorneys. They want a bunch of nonsense. TURDS! I did use a few expletives in a joking manner in return to my attorney indicating she was ruining my day. The words were not jerk face just for clarity.

I spent the better part of the day, after I got an abusive massage, digging for statements, reports, account information on the computer.

A quick trip to Trader Joe's (one of the few retail establishments for which I would ever consider working) and Starbucks for a sip that just about accounted for a full day. I did only meet one stranger (at Trader Joe's - she was not a phlebotomist but treated spider veins - cauterizing from the inside, the veins of the vain). I suggested she try something today she has never purchased before. I showed her a few of my personal faves I picked up a new item myself and headed out.

Ultimately, I ended up back at my cousin's place. With an evil cat that produces dander, I sneezed my way through the morning that included snot bubbles (for me and not the cat). Just look how evil the cat looks! SATAN!

I chose to sleep outside on the patio rather than risk another snot bubble. Below is my temporary homestead.

Screw the Embassy Suites! I got to hear a coyote howling last night. What a marvelous sound. Stanley chose to sleep inside. He's been a real fuddy duddy after the Ravens loss to the Patriots on Sunday. All he wants to do is watch the cat play on his scratching post and watch Jerry Springer. I'm going out today to Camelback Mountain for a hike!

Woo hoo!!!

Photos to follow.

Lots of love to you all, except the miserable attorney types!

Day 14 - Slowly, sluggishly, I venture out for the day, but not until

Because it was a Sunday, AKA, the lord's day, I needed to heed the call of a Bloody Mary while watching the lords of the gridiron play at a local sports bar. With my cousin and her posse, we (including Stanley - though he did try to oversleep) headed to the Upper Deck Sports Bar in Old Scottsdale, Arizona. With games on multiple televisions throughout the bar, I was able to secure one to watch my purple lads against New England. Unfortunately, the result was not the same as my visit to Gillette Stadium in January, 2010.

Stanley, the omnipresent tag-along, was certain the Ravens had the game well in hand. But, as you can see, Stanley was more focused on the drinks than the game itself.

Stanley and I were engrossed in the Ravens v Patriots game. Stanley was waaaay too happy throughout the game, always looking like he was doing jumping jacks. Sure that was nice when the Ravens were up by 10 points, but he could have chilled a bit at least when the game went into OT.

Stanley had too much to drink during the game and went face down and pretended to be a chalk outline after the final whistle blew when the Pats won by a field goal.

After a couple of cups of coffee, he was his old chipper self again. 

After coming home to have a delightful lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup (perfect together like PB&J, Bugs and Bunny), I took a ride to see if I could get a massage. (I know I'm riding cross country to raise money for services provided to torture victims, but I have given myself permission to get massages here and there. Plus they are much less expensive here in AZ than at home in MD.) No appointments were available at the time I wanted to go, so I rode to REI to get my bent wheel repaired and purchase some supplies to replace those items which I lost in the Imperial Desert and things I realized I really needed as well.

En route, I came across a business sign that shows just how ridiculous Americans are. This place was nicer than any homes I have ever been to in my life. Give the Fluffy to a neighbor to watch and spend the difference on something less indulgent (like food for Pakistani flood victims, child welfare or environmental issues). Fluffy can hang with the neighbors. Fluffy just cares about food, water and a nuzzle here and there, not that they went to some hoity-toity resort to show off excess wealth! (Yeah, there's my soapbox speech for the day. Whew. That's done.)

Just a sign.

So I finally made it to REI on the directions Mr. Google Maps provided on my Droid. Ooof! It was like an Ozzy Osbourne song - "Over the Mountain," when there was a much easier route of flat easy roadways. Oh well, I got in 15 miles or so finding my way around Scottsdale, Paradise Valley and Phoenix. While at REI, I met a cashier who was originally from Northeast Philly. We did the Phill, chat and discussed why I was walking through the store with my bike and a bunch of goodies. A woman in line behind me overheard and we all started chatting. The woman behind me in line was gearing up to go to Peru for a medical mission. Ooooh and that lucky duck is going to Machu Pichu. That's one of my bucket list items along with Angkor Wat. We all chatted for a bit and parted ways, but my jealousy of a visit to Peru is still eating at me. Blah!

So on my ride back to my cousin's home, I came upon an orange lighted monstrosity that few, other than Clark W. Griswold, could appreciate. I almost puked.

Upon finding the homestead, I pulled out my goodies and began to program my new odometer. Two hours of reading tiny print and I still couldn't get the Cat-Eye brand thingy to work. I passed out with it on my lap.

Day 13 - Waking Up Dancing - Someone should see

I've heard the statement, "You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching" and frankly don't believe it is worthwhile to do so. This neo-egocentrist idea keeps us from sharing joys with others. Why would anyone want to keep joy contained to oneself? That is an idea I don't understand. 


Stifling joyous experiences can only limit happiness in the world. Just think about the last time you saw a video of an international soccer match where a player scores a goal and the player takes forth on a celebratory jaunt. The look of joy sends shivers of joy through me regardless of the team for which he or she plays. Is it possible for you to not feel a sensory and involuntary requirement to turn the corners of your lips upward? I know I cannot. Human responses are universal. A smile spawns another. A laugh spawns another. A dance spawns head bobs, toe taps, and additional dancing (albeit, sometimes not the most elegant). 


So why dance like there's nobody watching?  I see no reason for it. Share. Sharing fosters happiness or excitement, even if it is only temporary. Embarrassment and self-consciousness about our own imperfections is worthless and debilitating. Stepping forth through the door of embarrassment and self-consciousness is one of the most liberating and fulfilling experiences I have found for myself and I truly believe it can be for others as well. 


As the sun crept into the eastern sky this morning, I arose in my tent on the south side of Surprise behind a dirt mound and a bunch of scrub brush. I had a sudden urge to listen to music. I pulled my iTouch out my shoes that I placed in my tent before I went to sleep. I let the Genius "All Metal Mix" play its desired songs. A song by Filter, "Hatred is Contagious" sang out to me. The lyrics spoke to ME specifically and directly. 


hatred is contagious
hatred is contagious

it breaks me
it takes my pride
it breaks me
it's built on lies
it makes me
but I am alive

Generally, I'm not a lyrics kind of dude (Just ask my high school buddy, Scott, with whom I have verbally wrangled over the past 20 years that Robert Zimmerman is not a musician, but rather a poet). I focus more on musical arrangement, vocal power and harmonies and thus the aura created by the combination to determine a perfect song. Amazingly, "Hatred is Contagious" hit me this morning as I danced in the desert in full view of passing motorists on Bell Road, Surprise, AZ as I loaded my bicycle for the day's journey. The lyrics (Hatred, "it makes me, but I am alive") reminded me a bit of my statement from about a week prior. One can be alive with hatred as a core focus, but with hatred, one cannot truly be living.  I'm trying to get to the point of fully living.

I ended up heading back to Starbucks for a little AM caffeine kick and some internet action. I got my usual Venti mocha light frappucino with soy milk. And wallowed in my internet fascination inside the SBX along with a patron who had been there when I arrived. He was almost definitively homeless. He wore a string that was clipped to his buttoned down shirt onto which was tied three small plastic bags, each of which contained multiple other typical American plastic grocery store bags (you know the ones, the kind that fly up along the roadside like butterflies in the wind). As I approached the SBX on F.G. Superman, he was sitting outside at a round table, savoring a cigarette and quietly speaking to himself.

As I walked inside and ordered, I noted he followed me in and sat down on the "comfy" chairs. I was reluctant to sit next to him because sometimes, frankly, I'm uncomfortable speaking with people with mental illnesses, which I suspected he had not yet fully addressed. I stayed at the SBX, charging my cell phone, iTouch, and laptop for until each was fully charged. All the while, this homeless gentleman strode in and out of the store to drink the coffee he purchased and smoke respectively.

In a way, the homeless man and I were of the same breed - just hangers on to the coolness and comfort of a welcoming environment, subject to maintaining a cup of coffee. I thought about the gentleman and what I could potentially offer him to help him sustain himself in some way. When I arrived in Aguila, I stopped at a gas station called Wally's and picked up what looked like the healthiest snack on their limited food supplies. Ultimately, I later noted there was a preponderance of unpronounceable words under the ingredient. I chose not to consume the bag myself earlier. However, I did offer this bag to the SBX gentleman. He eagerly accepted.

Now, you may be saying to yourself, "Hey Tim, if it's not good enough for you because of the nasty chemicals in it, why give it to this guy?" Twas a moral dilemma for me I must admit. However, I justified the presentation in the following manner. Perhaps this man had a chemical imbalance and with the various chemical compounds found in the foodstuffs provided, maybe, just maybe it would be helpful to him. It's a real stretch, I know. Alternatively, it could "pickle" the fella like Keith Richards and he'll keep on ticking and maybe play a mean guitar next week when I'm gone. Finally, the best explanation I can give truthfully is that by giving this man food, he will hopefully feel gastronomically satiated, even if for a short period of time. If I give the man money, perhaps he'd use it for illicit drugs or alcohol. I'd rather have the man die of cancer in 30 years as a result of bad foodstuffs, than die tomorrow because he scored some bad horse, if that was his "poison."

I decided it was time to start spinning on F.G. Superman, so I packed up my multiple cables, devices and computer and headed outside to pack up and spin away. I was approached by a few individuals who where interested in my sweet ride. After a short discussion, I handed each a Vagabond business card. Quite taken by the card they were.

I rode off into the steamy morning.

Now I must tell you, the day's photographic essay is scant. There is a very specific reason for that. It is not that I wasn't looking and that yours truly didn't care. There was nothing worthwhile to photograph! I rode about in hot, dusty suburbia. It was almost as boring as riding through the desert with VERY flat terrain. The few things that excited me were limited. Well, first off Stanley insisted on a photo at the SBX before we left this AM.

Next up, a sign. I just like knowing where I'm headed.

Next up, perhaps a cultural, regional, or plain biologically good - the painting of the orange tree trunks on Thunderbird Road in Surprise. I also saw it sporadically on the remainder of my ride. I think it just looks silly!

Just ridiculous

Another sign...boring.

I could have taken photos along the Arizona Canal. That would have been worthless and visually boring.

Suddenly I realized, I had eaten nothing other than a Kashi bar all day. An insatiable desire for a great slice of pizza overcame me. I went off the map to find the goodness...I asked local folks for a good local pizzeria - Domino's and Papa John's and similar would not suffice. NO ONE IN PHOENIX KNEW OF A PIZZERIA. Finally, in the outskirts of Scottsdale, a woman suggested a pizzeria. I followed her precise directions.  It was the west coast version of Chuckie Cheese's. I entered and almost passed out from the visual overload and pricing. I felt like I was going to get conjunctivitis and strep throat just standing in the entrance.  I high tailed out of there. Two doors down I found a Mongolian restaurant near the Metrocenter - which is near an amusement park and the Arizona Canal path I needed to follow to get to Scottsdale. I loved it FABU! Just highly salted...that goodness I took my blood pressure meds in advance of the meal.

I have a brain that works on 78 RPMs while most others around me work at 33 or 45 RPMs. If I don't write it down, it may not come back for a while. Such examples are here below.

While in Aguila, I saw a woman filling her tank with gas. I noted the AZ license plate "AZSUBVT." I asked her about it. I thought perhaps it was related to the fact that Arizona is below Vermont. Nah, that can't be right, it's southwest, not below - I'd like to that my 7th grade geography teacher Robert Clymer for ingraining that in my brain! Anyway, the woman advised the vehicle is her 85 year old father's. He was a career US Navy submarine crew member - thus, her father was Arizona Submarine Veteran. She went on to explain that he still tells stories of his time in the Pacific, being fired upon and sinking Japanese vessels. She indicated that she found an online resource that she shared with her father regarding the submarine on which he served and the various missions, and sailors with whom he served. Looking at the ships log, he discussed the attacks, near misses, and a fire that occurred in the engine room on one mission. Based upon the report filed by the submarine's captain, the woman's father imparted that the captain apparently downplayed the severity of fire in the engine room!

While in Wickenburg, after a meal at a cafe, I noted that the check was delivered to me upside down by the waitress who wore a bowtie and white shirt. Nothing extraordinary 'bout that. But I got to thinking: Why is a check delivered with the total face down traditionally? Does a server think they could possible add a dozen large garlic pickles and pork rinds to the check and because it is turned over, there is less likelihood I'll notice the pickles? I just have no idea where this practice started.

You and I know today's entry was rather blasé. Tomorrow may be more entertaining as I think I may get a massage and climb Camelback Mountain (http://phoenix.gov/PARKS/hikcmgud.html) , which is just a few miles from where I'm sitting right now. It will be my second visit to the park. I was last on that mountain in either 2005 or 2006. I'm looking forward to showing you the views from atop the mountain. They are spectacular!

Tis fun experiencing this journey with you. I really am enjoying the journey. The destination is superfluous!

Day 12 - Map Reading Techniques Need Improvement

I have no idea how I awoke this morning without having a large bullhorn shoved in my face with Gunnery Sargent Hartman bellowing at me. I dragged my exhausted corpse to the Gold Nugget restaurant across from the Best Western where I stayed in Wickenburg, AZ. The best omelette and service is available there. The Nugget, like the many of the other diners, restaurants and cafes I've patronized to date have a lot of historical value in their atmosphere and look. Old doors, bar fixtures and closets make me yearn for a retro-style house that I don't have to fix up. (I want someone else to do that. I've done two of those already.)

Gold Nugget Cafe

After devouring the protein laced golden delight, I strolled up the street to pass the Desert Caballeros  Museum to get to the nearest bike shop. Although my mother and father visited this museum previously and highly recommended it, I just didn't have the gumption to go in to this museum. I've seen enough westerns (including part of Back to the Future Part III) to know I just wasn't interested on this very day.

Unfortunately, at 9:30ish when I arrived, the bike shop was another retail institution that chose not to work on the same schedule as I. 11:00 AM the sign in the door declared would be the time when the I could visit the store to an open threshold.

I wandered my way back toward the hotel. to relax before checkout. On my way back I saw a building with a sign that intrigued the lexicographer nature in me. Soroptomist International of Wickenburg Thrift Shop. I strolled into the store and wandered through what happened to be the nicest and most organized thrift shop I had ever been inside before today. Now, I've visited thrift stores periodically since I was in college to obtain clothing, dishes, etc. with moderate success. I could have scored big if I were in need of any "stuff" at this location.

As I was departing, a woman working at the check out counter finished a telephone conversation. I asked her about the name of the shop and what was the purpose. I knew from the Latin root word, soro- means sister and assumed it had something to do with a women specific organization. The woman explained that this specific organization uses the profits from the store to pay for scholarships for local girls attending college...cool idea!

After a bit of time back at the hotel, relaxing, I strolled back to the bike shop and picked up a couple of inner tubes. I met the aunt of the the shops owner and we began chatting about a variety things including my bike trip and the fact that her children tuned up a bike she has owned for many years that she hadn't ridden, to encourage her to ride. Sweet kids.

Because of my babbling nature, matters regarding my pending marital dissolution and lack of time with my children emanated past my gums. I got choked up and began crying in front of this complete stranger who was so very maternalistic when I spoke of my children. She encouraged my tears. After recomposing myself and chatting with her again briefly, I advised I had to hustle back to the hotel to check out.

Upon return, I grabbed all of my belongings and my bicycle (Oh, about my bicycle, I gave it a name. It is official. I named it [It is an it, by the way. I like the gender neutrality of the bike for some reason.] F.G. Superman after a skit on Monty Python's Flying Circus. Following is a link for the skit from which the name was derived. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U01xasUtlvw. Friends encouraged a number of names. Some were quite interesting, others timely, and others clever and still others based upon my life's retrospection.])...so I grabbed my other belongings along with my bicycle and tossed them outside the hotel door onto the sidewalk for loading and tie-down. After replacing the inner tube that had multiple patches, I saddled up on F.G. Superman and went to checkout. I met Kathy, a Pennsylvania farm girl transplant, with whom I discussed a variety of topics including nutrition, hunting, and soccer. She was kind enough to pose with Stanley and me before I departed for Surprise.

I again saddled up on F.G. and paused as I pulled through the parking lot noting a printing shop across the street - Kwikprint. I poked my head in the door to inquire if they could make business cards "on the fly" for me so I could hand a business card to individuals who asked about my journey. AWESOME. 15 minutes and I was out the door with 100 basic business cards with the blog address, the email address for ASTT.org, my address and my profession: Vagabond. Pretty sweet if you ask me!

Outside of the Kwikprint, I had another patron take a photo of Stan the Man and me. Stan was clamoring for his own business card, but he didn't have a wallet to pay for the typesetting.

I proceeded east on SR-60 toward Surprise. Along the way, I determined that because the road was fairly quiet and had a huge shoulder, I didn't have much of a problem taking photos while I rode. I believe that the following signs were indicative of my ride. Happy Lane isn't just a quarter-mile away all the time.

Fortunately, it's now right here!

 I realized I never took a photo from this view yet...so I did.

Vision for most of my ride when not avoiding glass, coyotes, trees and cars.

Unfortunately, I had a cognitive hiccup when reading the map. I overlooked the fact that there was an extra 6 mile section for which I hadn't accounted. Without a working odometer, I had no idea why it was taking me so long to get there...I suppose, insufficient sleep definitely affects cerebral function. Finally after some aggressive pedaling I entered Surprise.

No confetti or streamers? What gives?

Sunset just inside Surprise, AZ city lmits

Much to my glee, I was able to secure a massage in Surprise at Massage Envy for 2 hours! I needed a full body massage and boy did I get a good one. Nathan at the Surprise Massage Envy was great. As I was departing from the Massage Envy location, I asked the Argentinian born receptionist, Michelle, if she would mind hanging with Stanley and me for a photo. Well, you know the result as shown below.

Guess who got a copy of by Vagabond card. Go ahead guess.

Immediately after leaving the massage studio, I headed to a Starbucks for some caffeine and Wi-Fi. I got both and now you have the day's story.

To my friends and family, both old and new, I wish you Peace.

Until tomorrow, Tim