Yesterday I went on a 200K ride. Around mile 93 or so I became nauseous and had to stop to throw up. Now there are times when an occasional upchuck is good for you. This was not one of those times. A cycle started: stop, retch, rinse, repeat. I thought a banana might settle my stomach. Nope, I just wasted a good banana. Riding on I contemplated courses of action. The return to the start was pretty straight forward. Any shortcuts would, at best, yield me sever or eight miles. None the less, even after a long descent, I could feel the bonk and decided to take whatever shortcuts I could find and get back to the start.
The route had a section on Highway 26. A busy road, but at this point one with wide shoulders. Cruising along I felt the familiar bounce and noted my rear tire had flatted. Thankfully the shoulder of 26 is really wide at that point. Got off the bike and got to work on the repair. All went smoothly until I started to pump up the tire. A Subaru pulls up behind me.
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I just got a flat. Almost done here.”
“Well, we’ll stay here so you have our headlights to help you see what you’re doing.”
Wow! This is nice. I finish up. Get everything back on the bike and lay it down. Walk back to the car and let them know I’m ready to go and give my thanks. They ask if I need anything, food, water?, they have plenty. I assure them my supplies are fine.
Hop on the bike and take off. Less than a quarter mile later they pull up next to me. Not taking no for an answer, they offer a ride to my destination. From what they observed I was in no condition to be riding. We pop the front wheel off and load the bike into a car with newly rearranged interior. A little bit of chit chat during this time during which I indicate, “I’ll tell you the truth of the matter when we’re going.”
In the car, with the sweat evaporating from my wool fogging up with windshield, I explain about the ride, the sickness, abandoning the route and heading back to Forest Grove through a shortcut.
Marilyn and Peter introduce themselves. They’re recreational bike riders and think 200K is way too much for this early in the season. Peter tells of how they say me doing my repair while on their way home from the beach and doing a U turn on 26 to came back to help me. He’s newly relocated to the area from New Orleans. Marilyn lives in West Linn and likes to ride in the Monmouth, Dallas area. We chat. We note 47 from Banks to FG is not a great night time route.
Back at the Grand Lodge they help me load the bike into my truck and quickly leave, accepting only verbal thanks for their help.
What a pair of angels!
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