Well that’s convenient.
I needed a break. I stopped at a convenience store for a drink. There were two guys inside, both Hispanic, one behind the counter, leaning on it, and one in front. We talked about the day’s heat and how they had been seeing cyclists since the racers came through.
“Yeah man, where is the rest of your group?”
“Oh it’s just me. I’m riding solo.” The two raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other. The guy behind the counter stood up. My brow furrowed in response to their movement. “What?”
“Well, it’s just that this isn’t the best road for bicycles. Not a lot of people around here care enough to share the road, you know? And on top of that you’re alone. This isn’t the best road for a white boy to be alone. You know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, I hear you. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Yeah, when you get back on your bike I wouldn’t stop until you get to Cuba. That’s another 40 miles down the road.”
“What’s the road like? Flat at all?”
The clerk’s friend spoke up while he shook his head. “No, it’s all up and down. It’s not even the best road to drive because of all the hills. It’s probably worse on a bike.”
I was riding a prejudice, non-cyclist friendly road. Great detour. I finished my snack and grabbed another sports drink.
“Good luck out their, man.”
“Hey, thanks guys. I appreciate it.”