I Tried Not To Cry. Michael Beattie
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along with pizzas. The place is not busy this time of the day, and a gentleman who claims to be the owner waits on me as I order a large pasta meal and a beer. After talking with the gentleman who questions me of my ride, he serves me another beer and says it’s on the house. A veteran himself, he thanks me for my efforts and wishes me well. This is what drives me to continue as my body says, “No more.” As I eat my food, I’m entertained by the owner as he masters the various dishes and pizzas that are rotated in place with a long-handle wooden paddle. We chat as he seems to know just when to pull an item from the oven, never looking at any clock or timer. The food is fantastic, and the microbrewed beer is even better, as I finish and bid farewell, but not before asking how to cross over the river. There are two bridges that seem to cross over the large river, and one has a highway which I can’t be on. He points toward the proper bridge to cross, and soon I’m crossing over the waterway within sight of my Quality Inn motel. The motel is located right around the corner from the Crayola Crayon Factory, and will be my home for the night. The room is clean and in my budget range, so I’m happy. I consume my daily bag of nuts, which I picked up at a small general store along the way, then head for the hot shower. The temperature reached as high as fifty-eight degrees today, which made for a nice ride after the cold start. My smelly clothes come off fast, as I head for the hot shower. When I can just wheel my bike into the room and live out of the side bags, it’s an easy task. I’m praying I don’t get any second-floor rooms without an elevator. But right now, I really could care less. I just want to soak in a shower as my butt has developed sores along today’s ride, and I want to dress them with bacitracin ointment. My knees, especially my right one, are really killing me, and I’m not sure how far I should try to push along tomorrow. Once again, I get ice from the machine down the hallway and apply it to both knees. My research shows no motels along my route for nearly eighty-two miles tomorrow, and I’m not sure I can make it that far feeling this way. I’m unable to book a room, so I’ll try to make it to Conshohocken, Pennsylvania, tomorrow in hopes of finding a room. It’s too cold to camp just yet, and I need to have ice for my knees as well as a good night’s sleep. I don’t like the unknown, but I’ll continue on and see what develops. I met some wonderful people today on the road and handed out many of my cards. My body craves all the sleep it can get, so after I post my blog to Facebook for the people who are following me, I hit the bed.
There are not many bodies stirring about this early, as I head to the small breakfast buffet which is offered by the motel. It’s another thirty-degree morning as I eat alongside a few construction workers who are staying at the motel. I consume more food than any one person should, in order to help provide me with the energy I’ll need today to ride another eighty-plus miles. My knees feel fairly good this morning as I believe the icing helped some, but they haven’t been tested yet. The cold air hits my face as I exit the motel and mount the seat with my sore butt. Heading to the bridge I crossed last evening, daylight is just beginning. After the bridge crossing, I stop to recheck my map and my Google Maps in order to properly get back onto my route without getting lost, not wanting to add any extra distance to the already long ride I have today. I’ve stopped at two veteran clubs prior to today along my route to explain to them of my journey, and also to offer the food pantry assistance to any veterans in need. No one seems to really care about what I’m doing, which is very disappointing to me, but I’ll continue to stop at all veteran clubs and organizations that are along my route. I sort of get the feeling that these people think I’m a nutcase and incapable of doing what I tell them about. I also have a feeling that many of these people don’t believe there’s really a veteran hunger problem in the country. Something I never thought of myself until I got to witness the problem firsthand, as I interacted with many affected veterans.
The backstreets I’m riding on this morning are filled with trash cans at the roadside, as it must be trash pickup day. This looks like a mill town area, or once was a mill town, as the streets are filled with multifamily-looking housing. The traffic is getting heavy just before I’m once again dropped onto the river road, which again takes me alongside the Delaware River. I’m able to stop after a cool morning ride in the town of Milford for a coffee and snack before pushing on. My knees are doing well up till now as I continue to wear my knee support braces. I ride through the towns of Frenchtown, Byram, and Lambertville to name a few before my route once again takes me over a bridge to the Pennsylvania side of the river. I stop here for a lunch break and remove a layer of clothing as the sun is slowly warming the air. It’s fifty-nine degrees now as I consume my lunch, and the warmth feels so nice. I’m trying a thin layer of diaper rash cream on my butt sores in hopes that it will help my situation, or possibly keep it from getting any worse. I have had several people stop me on the roadside to offer their assistance to me today, as well as to donate money. This makes me feel better, as not getting any offer of assistance from the veterans clubs disturbs me to no end. My plan prior to leaving was to stop at any veterans clubs along my route, and I will continue to do this no matter what. Someone needs to tell everyone about the situation that so many of our veterans face daily. My mind wanders about my meetings with homeless veterans as I move along the secluded back roads today, helping to erase the pains I’m having with not only my butt, but also my knees, hands, and elbows as well. I keep telling myself it’ll get better as I advance along. The hills in Pennsylvania are proving to be tough today, making it harder as I move along as my leg muscles ache. It’s up one side, down the other, only to be repeated again. The only room I could find along my route last evening was double my daily budget, so I opted not to book it. If I can find a room within a short distance from my route, I will try that option. My day wears on as each mile is getting longer and harder for me, as I finally reach the outskirts of Conshohocken, Pennsylvania. I try to locate another motel to ride to, but they’re too far for me to attempt to get to, as I’m too exhausted to ride any further. I reach the front of the high-priced hotel and decide to go inside to see if I can negotiate a lower rate.
Inside, I speak to a fellow at the front desk and explain to him my mission, then ask if he can offer a better price for me. He asks me if I’m a member of their loyalty club, in a prim and proper way, to which I answer no. This hotel looks like something I can never afford to stay at, yet, I’m hurting, and I think the desk attendant can see it. He offers me his best price, which is still way too much for my pockets. I tell him all I want is a bed and a shower, not a fancy suite. He takes me to the side so the other attendant can’t hear our conversation. He tells me that if I check in he would pull some strings to get me a better deal. Being as tired as I am, and not wanting to even look elsewhere, I say okay. After the paperwork is tended to, the attendant offers to help me to the room with my gear. He’s a nice young man who keeps thanking me over and over again for what I’m doing for our veterans. I’m so exhausted, I let him push my bike and gear to the room. When he opens the door to the suite, I immediately realize why the cost is so high. I have never stayed in such a beautiful place! It has a full kitchen with a dining room area, a study area with all the electronic connections a businessman would ever need. There’s a separate sleeping room with a huge walk-in closet. The bathroom itself is like a suite area with a soaking tub separate from the huge walk-in shower. The attendant tells me before he departs that he will take care of me regarding the cost. I can’t thank him enough. I strip off my clothes and head to fill the tub with hot water. I shower before soaking in the tub as my butt sores are getting worse and I fear infection. I stopped today at a pharmacy to purchase a small hand mirror so I can keep an eye on them. They don’t look good, and seem to be open and sore. All I can do is either stop riding, or keep applying antibiotic ointment. I apply more ointment.
After cleaning up, I walk down the hall to the bar area and have a cold beer and some nuts. I order a flatbread pizza along with toppings at a high cost, but I’m just happy I don’t have to walk anywhere to eat. Several patrons at the bar area engage me in a conversation about my journey, as I hand out my cards to them. I’m thanked for my efforts as the food tastes so wonderful. I wonder if this is how the upper-income population lives while traveling and working. Although I have had to travel for my business at times, I always tried to find the least costly places to bed down. Part of my growing up in a poor mill village I guess, but this place is something I could get used to, and I can see how people get spoiled. As I’m having a second beer, the attendant that checked me in pulls me aside and states that he got me a good deal. After telling me the cost, I couldn’t thank him enough. He said, “No, thank you for what you’re doing