6/9/00
Apache Junction
Mileage 90 miles
Max. 25.3 mph
Avg. 14.09 mph
Flats #8

Since Phoenix was only 50 miles or so from Tonopah, I thought the day would be an easy one. As part of the evolving plan, a low mileage day after the back to back centuries of the previous two days seemed appropriate. That was not to be.

As with the previous four mornings I was eager to get up and on my way (6:00 am). I decided not to wait for Tonopah's post office to open so I could mail the Palm Pilot to my office for rejuvenation. Instead, I rode a dozen miles to the next exit and shipped the Palm via FEDEX along with several items I had brought along but didn't need. As I remarked earlier, no sense hauling dead weight!

The ride to Phoenix was delightful for the most part. The terrain was downhill with a slight tailwind. Arizona's bicycle map showed that 99th street was the exit I would be required to leave the freeway. In calling around the area for a bike shop, I learned of one in Goodyear, a few miles west of that exit.

Jim, the shop owner, was a retired engineer with Boeing before buying the enterprise. He said his fantasy was that once the shop was his he would need to drop by each day to count receipts and little else. Instead, he discovered that both he and his wife were required to work full days. Jim served as a bike mechanic while his wife worked out front with customers and handled the financial side of the business. It seemed to me that both of them were disappointed with their choice but trying to make the best of it.

Jim drilled the rims so I could use both Schrader and Presta tubes. We looked over the inside of the tires carefully for wire barbs and found three that had not yet worked their way into the tube causing a slow leak. I trashed my patched tubes and bought spares.

I rode east on a street that paralleled I10 and stopped for lunch at the Big M. I was looking over the street map and calling motels when a man seated along side commented between bites on his Big Mac that there was no motel at the exit I was asking the operator about.

He mentioned he was an undertaker. I had just lost my father and had spent a lot of time recently with members of his profession so it was easy to talk with him. He offered to give me a ride out of the city but agreed it would be inappropriate after I explained the trek. I noted a red scaly rash on his hands. His black suit was shiny, and his shoes worn down at the heel. Perhaps his clientele were poor. He a he was a nice guy maybe a little down on his luck.

The dilemma I faced had to do with where to stay given that Tucson was over 100 miles away. I would need to ride on back roads with no motels and through the desert--bikes are not allowed on I10 from Phoenix to Tucson. If I stayed on in Phoenix I would need one very short day and another century day. A better option was to ride to the edge of the city before ending the day. That would set up the Phoenix to Tucson ride in one day.

I reserved a room in Apache Junction, east of Phoenix about 30 miles away on one of the several routes to Tucson. I decided to take a day off in Tucson rather than stay in the Phoenix area. Recently I had visited Phoenix but never had spent time in Tucson.

To ride to Apache Junction, the undertaker said to go south to Base Line Road. Based on my map, I assumed it was two miles away at most. After three miles, I asked directions from two young guys standing on a corner. "No speak English," one said. I was taken aback for a moment then reworked my question into Spanish. They responded immediately with pointed fingers and stated the distance to Base Line Road. I was surprised because the context alone should have communicated what I needed to know. I did mention the road I was looking for and based on their ages and appearance I thought surely they would have known some English. Maybe they were just playing with me. On the other hand perhaps they were Mexican tourists or college students from Spain. My guess though is that they were part of a growing sub-culture in the Southwest made up of Spanish-only speakers.

The ride to Apache Junction took four hours. Only the last 10 miles were free of stop lights and cross streets so it was slow going. Not having planned on such a long afternoon, I did not drink enough liquid or eat enough. I arrived at the motel well spent. No restaurants were nearby so I ordered pizza delivered but couldn't finish it. I got to bed late because I needed the time to patch tubes, both tires were flat again despite checking them both and installing new tubes at the bike shop in Goodyear.