4/23: Blisters & Piggies & Keith

Oh, my.

Thursday was beautiful. Much warmer than expected, and as Chris pointed out, neither of us were moving very fast before noon. I had come to really enjoy our little spot, and was in no rush to leave it for the smell of US-50.

Finally, around three, we guzzled the 5- Hour Energy drinks and started down the road toward SR 404. We knew it was only a few miles down, and not much else. Sometime, we had decided to go mapless and station- to- station, if you will, deciding our next destination after our current one was reached, with Lewes being the end. After cooking the night before and preparing Oatmeal Surprise in the morning, we were quite low on water. The oatmeal consisted of regular oatmeal, with both apple and peach flavored instant added for flavor. We also added honey, and I even threw in a packet of raisins. I had cooked nothing on last year's trip, so the idea of preparing meals is a bit odd for me. I'll "force" myself to live with hot meals, I suppose. The extra water usage was not factored in the day before, so we filtered water from a little stream that ran thru our spot and were on our way.

After a few miles, we spotted a gas station, and decided that fresh water and coffee (despite still buzzing on the 5- hour stuff) was a good idea. What a source of entertainment we turned out to be. I felt a bit like a rockstar. One guy in particular, Keith, was quite eager to be helpful, and kept reminding us that he saw us as badasses. I had to chuckle, as I gave him a cigarette, and Chris gave him $1 for beer. We knew he was working us a bit, but he was fun to talk to. He suggested we camp right there for the night, and I may have when I was traveling last year. The patrons were friendly, as was the staff, and it seemed likely that we'd snatch a ride- with some patience. Chris, however, was antsy. He feels the need to be "getting somewhere" constantly, and honestly, I wanted to try to break from the "happy hitcher" habit. We left Keith and our other new friends behind, and continued down 50. We didn't get far.

After maybe a couple hundred yards, a Maryland state trooper pulled in front to let us know it's not permitted to walk US-50. There was nothing posted... anywhere... at all... indicating this, and since it's a designated bike route, I suppose it's an easy mistake. Had he just turned us around, all would have been happily going about their afternoon. But, no.

Then came the questions. "What you doin'?", "Walkin'? Why ya walkin'?" Then, of course: the search without probable cause: the ID check. I let Chris do the talking, my blood again boiling, as I answered Inspector Gadget's questions in my head: "It's none of your fucking business what I am doing, and I'm walking because I FEEL like walking."

I cannot for the life of me understand the passive nature in which people accept this arbitrary "demand of papers" to prove you're not a criminal. Simply because you choose to travel in a manner different from the "mainstream"? Innocent until proven otherwise, remember? My ass.

I suspect that, despite my grudging cooperation of these arbitrary ID checks, something may come of this. I'm one who preaches "force water thru the pipe, find the crack." One of these weeks, after being on the road for awhile, a cot and free food will sound good. Perhaps I'll lose my ID, forget my "social security" (ID) number, then tell the guy what I think of the fact that he believes "technicalities" merit ignoring probable cause. Then I thought I'd perhaps publicize it in that "liberal media", until I remembered Liberals suddenly don't give a damn about civil liberties. They're now caught up in the Political Chickenhead Dance to the chant of Hope... Change.. Hope... Change.

Wrong rant... sorry... where was I?

Oh, yeah... piggies.

What's more likely to happen is that I'll write their names down, ask which precinct they're from, then give them a blog- card while I mail another to their supervisor. In the meantime, I'll write, rant, and rave whenever it happens. Then hope they fuck with me after reading it. I'll bet the ACLU would eat this plate of piggie- slop right up. That pesky first amendment, and all.

Amerika, I love ya!

After this, I was obviously perturbed. We quickly found ourselves back at the gas station, looking at another road, which we had considered taking before; a nice quiet country road. I wanted to hang at the gas station for a bit, but this was obviously bothering Chris. The need to get another two miles up the road, NOW, was seemingly paramount. Never mind that it was getting late, and we still may be able to get to Delaware tonight with a bit of luck. He appeared to be most displeased with the body of work which his day had produced. Three miles so far. I won't lie, this bothered me for a few minutes but probably had more to do with the cop than Chris. I had known this particular challenge was coming, too.

In the end, I tried to relied on my ability to remember my pre- pig mindset. I took a deep breath, and conceded that he was right: we had both been intrigued by the country setting before, and ultimately had that decision made for us.

It all worked out for the best. I hated walking 50 anyhow, and this Grange Hall Rd. was sparsely traveled, and quite pretty as it took us through Maryland farm country. After a few more miles, we found a decent place to jump into the woods, and found a spot next to a creek about 100 yards off the road just as the sun was setting.

I'm quickly discovering both how spoiled I was last year, being out west, and how LITTLE I like the east. Since I've moved west, I constantly fail to see any reason, other than family, why a person should EVER re- cross the Mississippi! The people are friendlier, leave you the fuck alone, and there is SPACE, combined with the mentality that not every square inch should be "owned". I was spoiled in that sense last year, and am having a bit of a difficult time adjusting to the property lines/ constant proximity to houses. I was on edge knowing that we were likely on someone's property, and that I could actually see their lights. Again, I knew this was coming, and didn't think it would bother me so much.