Day 22: Springfield, Illinois to Tuscola, Illinois

Distance: 83 miles
Average Speed: 19.6 mph
Terrain: 900 feet of climbing. Sometimes pancakes have a lump of butter. This didn’t even have that.
Weather: Light tail to quartering tail most of the way.

Remember me whinging about the day after the last rest day when we did 135 miles of climbing into Las Vegas, New Mexico? Yeah, this wasn’t that. This was either a rolling rest day or a wind sprint. I took it as a wind sprint.

That 19.6 mph average is motel to motel and includes an 8 mile leisurely rollout from Springfield. Then we pulled together a paceline of 5 or 6 guys and ripped off the next 30 at an average of maybe 21 mph. Then Sexybike pooped a rear wheel bearing, and I had to wait for the mechanic’s van. Mike (Ride Leader/Mechanic) pulls up in the van, gives it a look and tells me I’m going to have to SAG the rest of the way in today. In the time it took me to gather my strength for a lunge at his throat, he’s got my cogset on a replacement loaner wheel that is getting slapped into my dropouts and is having a hearty laugh at my expense. F------ sadist.

I time trialed my way into the lunch stop in hopes of hooking into the group before they pulled out from lunch and managed to do that. I really felt good soloing into that stop so when we rolled out of lunch I rode off the front of the paceline when my turn came up. Pretty much I just kicked it up from 21 to 23 mph and looked back to see who was going to go with it. Well, nobody did. A quick left, a quick right, me drilling it out of each turn to try to keep myself out of their sights, and when the road straightened back out they were maybe a quarter mile back. I had pretty much resolved that I was going to sit up if they pulled any closer, but they never did. I held that gap for about 4 miles and then it started stretching out and then they were out of sight on the straight roads, too. The last 25 miles I must have averaged a high 22 mph / low 23 mph. God, it was fun. I love that kind of riding.

Sexybike seems pretty nonplussed by her mechanical issue. It won’t keep me from riding for the next few days, but it will take some work to get a new rear hub axle together out here. She likes it when I scurry, the little drama queen.

Now, I would like to issue a challenge to you. Please explain in 100 words or less the road numbering system of rural Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio. Extra credit will be given to any entrant that can also offer an explication of the perverse logic that would lead to such a system.

Another thing about the roads in this part of the world: There are many four way intersections of county roads at which no traffic signs are presented—no Yields, no Stops. To a certain extent I really enjoy the acceptance of mayhem that this entails. It’s kind of libertarian, right? I mean, the locals know. They don’t need to be confined with a bunch of silly rules. They can work it out amongst themselves. But if you’re not from here, watch out. Just because you don’t have a stop sign, doesn’t mean the other guy does.

Hannah had a good time at prom. She also did well on her AP History exam on Friday. I’m happier she enjoyed prom. It seems the harder task.

Here's a picture of me doing what I do, moments ago: