Sorry, it's a long one.

So, I got an email from a Sarah Royal, someone I don’t know personally, who thought I had some things to hear over on LinkedIn. It was Wednesday. “OK, sure. What could go wrong?” I thought to myself. I replied. Shortly thereafter, she put me in touch with another Sara, but this time without the H. Sara, in turn, put me in touch with Kati, who invited me to Paris with 32 other people I don’t know. Sound odd or fun yet?

As it would turn out, Sarah is a member of the Bike & Build Alumni Council, and Kati is one of the leaders on this year’s P2C route (Providence to California, formerly P2SF, Providence to San Francisco, the route I took in 2010). Sara was the soon-to-be host in Goshen, Kentucky, where the riders had a day off. I was invited for dinner. I offered, as well, my skills as a mechanic, and those of my friend Nathan’s.

So, I made plans to ride with the group from Paris to Goshen, a 90-ish mile ride. But, given that they were riding out Friday morning, and by the time I was able to leave it was Thursday night, I couldn’t find transport. I waited until they were in Goshen, borrowed Mom’s Corolla, and headed to an address that proved to be a tree farm with a 2 mile driveway. I was literally giggling to myself with glee as I saw chalked directions on the final stretch. The nostalgia made me so happy that I couldn’t stop smiling. I called Sara when I arrived at the house.

“I’m at the hospital, so go ahead and make yourself comfortable, and introduce yourself to Steve, my husband,” she said. “Why are you at the hospital? Is everything alright?”

“No, one of the riders got hit by a truck today. He’s in the trauma center right now, but he should be out either tonight or tomorrow. He’s stable.” Words like these take the fun right out of your plans.

I proceeded to walk up to the trailer, help unload, and introduce myself as it became necessary. From the viewpoint of a rider, it’s a little odd to see someone not in your group wearing a build shirt (the shirt worn when on a build site over the course of a Bike & Build trip) with a Camel Bak on. I introduced myself to Steve, a rather outgoing man, tall, and with a belly. He was getting a handle on dinner shortly, and I made myself useful by setting up a bicycle stand to start working on bikes.

Stuart was up first. A few days prior, he had fallen off of his bicycle, and his front wheel needed to be trued. With his interest and propensity for it, I taught him how. Shortly after that, I started a line to get other cycles fixed and tuned. As riders showed up, they showered, hauled gear inside, and walked about the massive home that was their host for the next two nights.

Lobster. If I had told any of the hungry cyclists that they were having lobster for dinner, they would have either called me a liar, or a savior. I wasn’t lying. Beer. If I had told any dehydrated and tired young cyclist that he or she would have beer in both bottle and keg form available before dinner, he or she would have either called me a liar, or a savior. I wasn’t lying. And ice cream. The hosts managed to reserve an ice cream van’s time solely to the P2C group, free of charge to the riders. I can’t make this stuff up.

After fixing a few bicycles, I headed inside to see a 20 foot table filled with lobsters and coleslaw. The group was giddy, and eager to beat their hungers down with buttery goodness and southern hospitality. A demonstration on how to eat a whole lobster and a few words by Steve, and then the group was off. I’ve never seen such enthusiastic consumers of food, but I suppose I was the same way after long days in the saddle.

It got dark, and the log cabin came alive. An old neon “MOTEL” sign hung in the living room and covered the place in a shade of blue. The letters were blocky, and about six feet tall apiece. The ceiling was easily 30 feet in spots, and the second floor, almost entirely visible from the first, had pathways connecting a few mock cottages, complete with thatch roofs. It was like a resort, and outside, fireworks were being set off.

Nathan arrived, late from being held over hours at work as a bicycle mechanic. He was recovering from a recent incident where a driver had flung a two-pound piece of automobile trim at him going the other way at 70 miles per hour. Some people never bother to run the numbers on that kind of impact, but he’s lucky he ducked his head in time to miss his left eye. His helmet was shattered. He couldn’t stay long, but managed to help me figure out a derailleur problem and fix two bicycles.

Noah arrived after Nathan left. He was barely able to stand, covered in bandages, and looked like Hell. He told us all the story of what happened as others tried to lighten the mood by trying to feed him like a kid in a high chair. I can still see Sean saying, “Here comes the air plane!” while making circles and sounds with a fork full of lobster. There really isn’t much else to say, other than the comments about the careless actions of a driver that almost took a life. Noah went to bed early.

I stayed up until 3:00 that morning talking about the trip they were on and my trip last year. I fell asleep on the porch. The next morning, I awoke at 7:00, and immediately began working on more bicycles. A few hours later, others arose and meandered around, looking for food. If there’s one thing people in Kentucky know how to do, it’s eat. Thick, hand-cut bacon, farm fresh eggs, and all kinds of breakfast-friendly vegetables were at our disposal, not to mention cereal while you cooked or waited. What a vacation, not for me (one who was already on vacation), but for the riders who had put down over 1,000 miles straight.

After a few more bicycles tuned up and fixed, the group headed out for Churchill Downs, the famous location of the Kentucky Derby, to see a few races and have a good time. Steve and Sara had clearly done this before, and had all sorts of ties, shirts, dresses, and especially hats, at the ready for the riders. Worse and more amusing combinations of clothing and camaraderie have seldom been seen. There are pictures to prove as much. So, off they went in a school bus. I stayed back at the host and worked some more on the remaining three bicycles whose owners had requested help. In total, I finished 13 bicycles (plus or minus one, since I lost count), which isn’t bad considering the level of detail put in.

I went for a hike in the woods with two riders, and we hiked about 20 minutes to a waterfall. In hind sight, doing so through knee-high poison ivy in shorts and sandals wasn’t the greatest idea, but I’m not allergic (ha ha!). Shortly after that, it was dinner time, and after making sure I was invited (I’m not a rider on their trip, after all), I scurried to a pool and nicely served hamburger dinner by the river. The scene was picturesque, and Noah was mobile enough to join us for dinner. His movements were becoming more fluid by the hour, and his attitude was very positive and humorous.

Sadly, I had to leave. If I wanted to ride out with the group the next morning (and I did), I would have to find a way to get myself to the host with just a bicycle, and not a car. By 23:00, I had done just that. I showed up, brushed my teeth, donated a new tube of Chamois Butt’r to the group, and passed out between two riders on a queen-sized bed.

The next morning was all too familiar. The hustling of people to get their things packed occurring simultaneously with people still sleeping. The endless wait for a bathroom to change clothing in. Chore groups picking up, cleaning, packing, loading, and serving breakfast. And then the most reminiscent thing happened: I had a cinnamon bagel with peanut butter on it. Few memories get better than that.

After a short route meeting, we set off. It was nearly 19 miles to the border with Indiana, and after that, I cycled a few more miles (maybe five) before I had to turn around. I had a family obligation, and couldn’t ride the whole day. Sadly, I had to let my new friends go. I wished everyone safety as I passed going back home. I haven’t had that much fun in ages.

Now, a word on quality: poor. The bicycles these guys were outfitted with (the Giant Defy 3), and even the upgrade (Defy 2), are assembled with sub-par calipers that stick with the slightest hint of road grime. This was a problem on almost every bicycle I worked on. Also, most bicycles had poorly-installed bar tape, and poorly-tuned front derailleurs. I would inquire.

Last bit: here’s an excerpt from a conversation I had with Tal, one of the riders.
Tal: Our trip is more awesome because of this host.
Me: Yea, but ours was more hardcore.
Tal: Why?
Me: Because we did Cumberland Gap in one day, not two.