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Somewhere in Maine

I finished writing that last post at about 1 o’clock, had some lunch and then started cycling, heading North up Route 1, a long and sometimes quite hilly road. Got to the junction with route 6 just as it was getting dark and thunder clouds were gathering, but there was a sign saying 8 miles to a campsite so I thought I can do that, and headed off with my waterproofs and my lights on.

After about 6 miles I got a puncture, which I wasn’t going to fix in the dark and rain so carried on slowly for the next 2 miles, eventually reaching the campsite entrance, where there was a sign telling me the campsite was actually another 3 miles down a rough track. So they lied in the first sign. People tend to do that where distances are concerned here. A mile or so down the road can easily mean 10 miles. Doesn’t make much difference when you’re in a car, which pretty much everyone around here is. Drive in banks, drive in fast food, drive in rest rooms. When I check into places I always have to fill out a form asking for my vehicle make (for which I put GediBike) and model (Rush Hour) and licence plate (which I leave blank). Even then it takes some of them a while to figure out I don’t have a car.