Failure To Communicate

So Tired Tired Of Waiting Tired Of Waiting For You


South Dakota Laundry Room
May 22, `72

I lost Mike and Denny yesterday. Late in the afternoon, I broke
three more spokes in my rear wheel. There was no place in front of
me to get my wheel repaired, so I decided to backtrack and take the
junction north to Mitchell S.D. I ran into a person at a rest area
who told me he had passed two bikers about twenty miles behind me,
but that information was about three hours old. The junction was
some thirty miles behind me, so that meant I should pass Denny and
Mike coming toward me. I had no such luck. When I reached the
junction, I didn't know what to think. Either they had bike trouble
and were stuck somewhere behind me or, more likely, they had bike
trouble and were doing the same thing that I was; that is, changing
direction and going to the only large city that could fix bikes. I
needed the repair, so off I went to Mitchell. Including the thirty
miles that I had to backtrack that day, I logged 126 miles.

Last night, I slept in the Parkston, S.D. park. When I finally got
to Mitchell the next day, it was raining, and after I got every
fuckin spoke in my rear wheel replaced at a local bike shop, it was
still raining. This is a breakdown (best I can remember) of my
repairs so far. Madison, Wisconsin—2 spokes--$5. Mason City, Iowa—5
spokes--$6. Algona, Iowa—2 spokes--$2. Mitchell, S.D.—every spoke in
the rear wheel--$6 (they took pity on me). What is not mentioned
here are all of the stops to adjust breaks, adjust derailleur,
rearrange luggage, or just plain check out one of the many foreign
noises that popped up ten or more times a day.

I am presently sitting with a towel wrapped around my waist in a
Wesleyan University dormitory, waiting for my clean clothes to get
dry in the dryer. There's an inquisitive old maid upstairs (I'm in
the basement) who keeps checking on me. I guess she wants to make
sure I don't steal the washing machine. My plans are changing as I
write. I think, rather than backtrack again and look for Denny and
Mike, I'm going to continue west on Highway 16 instead of on Highway
18, which (if they aren't somewhere up here in Mitchell) is the
highway that Denny and Mike are traveling on right now. I'll just be
a little north of where they are peddling. Once we get to the Black
Hills we ought to run into each other again.

As soon as I took a shower and put on clean clothes, I left
Mitchell. Things were looking up; my bike was fixed and the rain had
stopped. I was very thankful, and then, ten miles down the road, the
rain clouds came back. I was so sick of stopping, I decided to ride
out the storm. I started to rethink my decision when, on the
horizon, the gray sky turned black. When the rains came, I regretted
my decision.