Actually, the American rail system isn't even old fashioned. It's worse. I'm sure that trains have never been managed so badly in the past either. Look at it this way: I've taken trains on four of the seven continents and I have honestly never hated a system so much as Amtrak.
I just want to rant about this for another couple of lines and then I'll get it out of my system: the trains are uncomfortable, have no litter bins, have no bike space, go at about 30kmh and are hugely bloated so they don't fit onto their small rails properly; the stations are poorly run, poorly deigned and poorly managed while also being made to look like roman temples (or at least Philly is); And the staff schizophrenate between gleefully helpful to maliciously stubborn like bloody pulsars.
Ok, I'm done. Anyhow. As you can guess, I had a pretty hideous train journey to Charlottesville, but I'm here now and have crept into the UVA library to post this.
So, I was going to tell you about the cycling? It was epic. I loved it. I'd got to hitching to Waverly right? Good. From there Tom and Dixie (the folks that picked me up) looked after me and took me (and Charles and Ashton) to a bike shop. Fixed my spoke (drive side, back wheel or I would have done it myself) and got me back on the road.
Managed another 20 miles and stayed behind an abandoned school in Towanda. Got up early, started riding again and managed to make it down past Canton before...punngggg! Another drive side back spoke. Come on! Seriously. And then just as I'd started pushing it: Punnggg! Another one, which pushed the rim onto the brake. So that I had to push a bike with the brake on about 4 miles before I go picked up and offered a lift to Williamsport. Which left me with a 6 mile push to get to a bike shop (which I found out about from a bored lady with Google on her shop till) that...you'll love this...turned out to be closed.
o m F g
Closed on Mondays.
So I thought sod it, I'm going to sling my hammock right here and wait for it to open tomorrow. Luckily I started asking the surrounding gardeners whether they minded that and one of them turned out to be the father of the guy who runs the shop.
So, he opened up the shop and offers to fix my bike. Er...right, I have no idea of this guy knows anything about bikes. He doddering about like the 75 yo he is and I'm worried that he's going to seriously damage either himself or my bike. But what the hell...
Anyhow, this old guy, Dan Devito (seriously), turns out to be a mechanical genius and strong as a bloody elm. It transpires that he was the third of four generations to work the shop and it's been open, like, 100 years. So. That was cool.
So, hit the road again. Up a massive, massive hill. Whipping down the other side (which I got on film, so I'll put it in the video when I do it) and camping in a little old lady's riverside garden on the Susquehanna. With permission (3 rules: no loud music, no litter and be safe in the river). Much to the chagrin of the annoying old bloke who said we should feck off because the lady didn't like to be bothered and would never let people stay there.
Score: Greg's diplomacy 1 : Annoying old bloke 0.
So, aside from swimming in the river, some cool photos and falling asleep watching fireflies there was the large "thing" that was splashing around in the water and turning over rocks (the size that go clunk instead of clatter) looking for crayfish at about 03:00. Which was fun.
Ok. Once again, I grow weary of this story, I'll finish later.
G
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