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Day 39: Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

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When there is a thunderstorm at night, and I’m camping, it’s kind of fun. When there is a thunderstorm during the day, it’s not quite the same kind of fun. But I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make me feel alive.

I’ve put another one in the books. Even though each day has it’s highs and lows, on a relative scale, the lows are nothing to write home about.

It was a quick 20 miles to Saratoga for breakfast. I’m not sure if they do this in other countries but, I had a fountain Pepsi, a hot dog, and a hot pocket from the Conoco. The main event in Saratoga is the natural hot spring, playfully nicknamed, “The Hobo Hot Tub”. It was just off main street; the signs took me there. Unfortunately for the public, the “Hobo Hot Tub”, was closed. Normally it’s open 24/7 (for free), however the high waters of the Platte River put visitors in some kind of danger.

Fortunately for me, I don’t normally play by the same rule book as the general public (“Good people don’t need rules to tell them how to act responsibly.” – Plato). I stepped over their two foot homemade levee, through the orange fencing, and around the corner of their local pool (which was also closed), and I was there.

The water was painfully hot; the heat source seemed to generate from within the rounded off stone area. The hot tub expanded into more of a larger concrete pool, complete with benches. I felt like I was in Pompeii for a public bath. I spent ten or so minutes in the water; it was all I could handle (online it said the water can get up to 120 degrees).

In the blink of an eye, I had added another bullet point to my sightseeing resume, and I was off. The ride was smooth until I got to I-80. I was confronted with a crippling headwind that turned 10 flat miles into a 2 hour tour de force.

I split the 20 miles I spent on that stretch of highway with pancakes at a truck stop. It was a relief to get a break from the wind; but all the while, a storm was brewing. Within ten minutes of getting back on the road, the rains came. They were hard, biting, drops of water (and a brief moment of nerd candy size hale). I was only in the rain for 20 minutes, just enough time to switch into ride for wellbeing mode and get the shoes wet.

It was actually the first time I’d ridden on the Interstate with a bicycle. And also the first time in six years I’d been in the driver’s seat and not broken the speed limit on the Interstate.

A good time was had by all (me). To steal a line from a Tim McGraw song, “Someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying.”

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