Atlantic Coast Bicycle Trip
May, ’77
Well here I am again, writing in my journal twenty-four hours after
being interrupted by the two girls who had also stopped at the Dairy
Queen for a respite from the afternoon sun. The girls asked if I
needed a lift and I accepted. I put my journal in my bicycle bag, the
bicycle in the back of their pick-up, and we were off to the
Chesapeake Bay Bridge. It was already late, and without that
thirty-mile ride I wouldn't have made it to the bridge. The bridge was
mammoth. It connected South Virginia's coastline with the peninsula
reaching down from Maryland. The bridge was sixteen miles long with
two of those miles tunneling under the Chesapeake Bay. I stood for two
hours hitchhiking before Greg picked me up (no pedestrians or bicycles
were allowed on the bridge). I was offered a beer and shared a joint
with him. As we crossed the bridge we listened to good music on his
stereo. It was a nice ride, indeed!
As it turned out, Greg was vacationing with friends and he suggested
I spend the evening at their campsite. I accepted. After a ten-minute
ride, we pulled into a Virginia camping park, and I met Gary and Ray.
That evening I enjoyed good company, beer, and smoke dope. I was the
first to call it a night, though. In the morning, the fellows wanted
me to stay on. It was Memorial Day weekend and they said it wouldn't
be safe biking anyway. At first I thought that was a good idea, but
after a couple hours of drinking, smoking, and girl watching (most
weren't even weaned yet), I decided biking was an even better idea. I
thanked the lads and headed for the open road. I knew I had one full
day of biking ahead of me before the vacationers started migrating
north from Virginia Beach.
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