I Miss The Small Towns

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 - Day 19

Distance Traveled - 20 miles

Giff and I got out of the motel room just after 11. The lady at the front desk would not give us an extension to check out, even though we didn't get in until after midnight. In Lompoc they said I could stick around until 1pm. Of course I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of there. We drove around for at least an hour looking for a place to eat breakfast. For some reason we couldn't find any of the 30 diners that we passed last night as we weaved aroudn the city to the motel. We ended up in All-Star game traffic, which sucked. Got some food at a Chipotle. I bought Giff's food in retribution for the motel room. I got the better end of the deal, I'd say.

Then we drove across the city to Golden Gate Park. Giff dropped me off there. I wanted to check out my bike, clean it up a little bit, then find a good place in the park to relax. After saying bye to Giff I examined the bike. I needed to put my bags back on the side, but I had a broken rack mount screw. 'No matter,' I thought. I'll just get this screw out and I picked up some extra nuts and bolts in Cambria. Here's the problem: The rack mounts on the rear dropout are threaded. The screws go through the hole in the rack, which is not threaded, and screw into the bike frame. The screw broke, leaving half the screw still threaded in the frame. I thought at first that I might be able to get it out with some pliers and maybe a screwdriver. That was not the case. So I asked some gardeners if they had a drill, thinking that there must be some kind of utility storage somewhere within the park that contains a drill that possibly they would let me use. They said they didn't have one, and they didn't know anyone that did. One guy told me about some bike shops just down the street, outside the park. That could be good. The only shitty part was that I had to carry all of my bags with my hands. So I managed to find a way to carry everything towards the park exit, which was probably just over a half mile. Along the way the gardener who told me about the shops came up walking next to me. He offered to help me carry some of my load, at least to the end of the park. He was going off to some other part to do some work. He was friendly, and we talked as we walked, mostly about how the park services were getting screwed over because the city was selling their contract to some private company. The workers would get the shit end of the deal, but the mayor would make some good friends and please campaign contributors. Fuck politics!

At the end of the park I took over the full load again. The bike shops weren't far, though. I made it first to some auto repair place. I don't know why I thought they would help me. I told them my situation, and the guy basically just pointed to the bike shop down the street. Said he couldn't do anything. Whatever. Dragged my stuff down the block to the first bike shop. Closed on Tuesdays. Suck. Scooted on to the next one, about a block down. The guy running the service department was foreign, I don't know what ethnicity. It doesn't really matter. He wasn't nice. A girl working there was very sympathetic and would have loved to help, but it wasn't up to her. The guy in charge just gave me a bunch of bullshit about how hard it is to do, that it would cost me $60 in labor. He said I couldn't use his drill myself, said he didn't have a bit small enough. He didn't even really look. Fuck that guy. On to the next shop. The next one was at least 2 blocks down. Dragged my shit into there. The guy there was nice, but not especially compassionate or sympathetic at first. He said it would cost $25, and again, I couldn't use their tools myself. I wasn't sure what to do. It was now after 3pm. There is a bike co-op downtown, but they don't open until 6:30, and I would have to get down there. The closest BART station is not close at all, which means I would have to lug my shit pretty far, probably up hills. I sat an thought about it for a while. Finally I decided that I didn't have any other choice. I would just have to spend a little bit of money. At least the guys here were somewhat friendly. So I told the guy I wanted them to do it. He said the service line was pretty backed up, but he would try to work me in there. After I gave them my bike, the guy was much nicer. He started talking to me about my trip and living in San Fran and around Seattle. I decided I would head out and go to the park for a while, thinking it would be at least an hour before the work as done. So I asked him if I could set my bags behind the counter. He said that was fine. I set my two panniers behind the counter. We went into the back for something. When he came back out I was putting the rack behind the counter. He told me I could just give it to him. They were working on my bike already, nearly done, and they would put the rack back on for me. It must have been only 15 minutes since I gave them my bike. Hour's work, my ass.

So I waited in the shop for everything to be done. I think I got out of there around 4 or so, maybe a bit later. I don't really remember. Went back to the park to mount my bags and repack them. Now I had hoped to stay with a friend there in the city. She is the sister of my old roommate P.D.'s ex-girlfriend. She hung out with us quite a bit down in Orange and crashed on our couch a few times, so I figured it would be no big deal. I didn't have her phone number and neither did P.D. anymore, but I got her email. So I sent her an email yesterday. She sent me a reply yesterday, saying she would call me later. She never called and didn't give her number in the email. Well, at this point I was over the city and over relying on other people. I just wanted to stay the night and move on. Since I got into the city people have not been friendly or accomodating. Fuck that, why would I want to stick around that shit when there is so much nice scenery and hospitality elsewhere. So I had been told that you can camp in the Prisidio, the park around the Golden Gate bridge. I needed to get some food for the night then just head over and set up camp.

Went to a Trader Joe's down the road a few miles. Got some food to cook and whatnot. Then I headed toward the park and found a cafe to get on the internet to try to figure out where to go. I found very little info, but I did find one site that said you just go down highway 1 into the park. Okay, that should be easy, and then I'll be able to find someone to ask or find some info inside there. Headed to highway 1 and turned down there. At this point, however, it's a freeway for some reason. Bikes are not allowed. Fuck it, I thought, I'm going for it. As I headed up the hill into the park, the shoulder gradually diminished from about 5 feet wide to nothing. Then came the tunnel right when the shoulder ended. About a quarter mile tunnel, no shoulder, no sidewalk. What now? I gotta go for it, can't go back now. So that's what I did, I went for it. I waited for a break in the traffic and toook off. Luckily there wasn't too much traffic and two lanes. People were all able to go around me in the left lane. It was still scary. With such a small gear ratio, I can't exactly go terribly fast, and I just have to pedal as quickly as I can. I made it through the tunnel, but there was nothing but more freeway leading to the bridge or an offshoot going toward the city. I got going the other way, hoping to get off the freeway and find my way into the Prisidio, which at this point was 150 feet below me.

I finally found my way into the park, but there were no signs about the campground, no information booth. I started heading in, hoping I would see something. No luck, so I called my goto man for directions and help with that kind of stuff, P.D. That wasn't much of a help because there aren't many good maps online of the Prisidio, and it was confusing to coordinate just where I was. I stopped in a sporting goods store that happened to be inside the park. There was a little map in there that I could look at, and one of the employees helped me figure out the way to get over to the campgrounds. No one there knew anything about camping there, however. So out I went, battling the wind and going uphill toward the campground. Finally found it, the campground. It didn't look promising. There was no one there at all. No signs that anyone had been there anytime recently. I looked around and figured out that this was not just a public campground for individuals or families. This was a group campground, the kind of place that your 8th grade class would come to on a nature trip, or that the local church youth group would come to for some kind of revival camp or something. There were bathrooms, but they were locked. I didn't see any open water sources; otherwise I was tempted to just set up there. At least it would be quiet. But I was completely out of water, and to go back into the city and come back up there would have been absurd. So it was time to figure something else out. I called P.D. back and tried to figure out how I could get the friend's number whom I was hoping to stay with before. No promising leads there. Joey gave me the name and number of a friend of my friend Max, who was in the area. I also remembered that my friend Frank had given me the number of one of her friends out here. I called the friend of Max first. No answer. Left a message, but I didn't expect anything. Called Frank's friend Matt, and bingo! So very nice of him. At this point it was pretty much dark, it was looking like rain, as well. Now I just had to make my way all the way across the city because I was at the northwestern tip and he lives at the southeastern part of the city.

I sat for a minute and ate a salad that I had bought from Trader Joe's earlier. Spinach and bacon and egg; it was tasty. I was sitting on the corner of a neighborhood street, a nice area. Got back on my bike and started pedalling and quickly realized I had a flat tire. Motherfucker! So I pulled onto the sidewalk, flipped my bike over and went to work. It was about 9:30 and completely dark by this point. I had to do the repair holding a flashlight in my mouth. I had two spare tubes, and rather than messing with patching the one I blew, I decided to just put a new one on there and patch it later. Tried the first tube, but for some reason it was way too big. I have 700c wheels, which are about 27". This tube looked like it was for a 29" wheel, even though it said 700c on it, and I know the box said the same. I knew it wouldn't work. Pulled out the second spare. Put a little air in it and seated it in the tire. It seemed a bit big, as well. Not as big as the other one, but it didn't look like it was going to fit. I tried it anyway. Got it in there and got the tire back on the rim. Went to pump it up and just before I got it to 100psi, the damn thing busted. I guess it was too big. Son of a bitch. So I ended up patching the original one anyway. It wasn't too bad, and it worked. The whole ordeal took me about a half hour, I'd say. And so here I am, on the sidewalk in a nice neighborhood, fixing a flat tire by flashlight. There are plenty of people walking by on their nightly walks or coming back from a shop. Did any one person stop and ask if I was alright, inquire anything about my problem, say anything to me at all? Not a single person. One lady even went off the sidewalk and walked into the street to go around me! Alright, I understand that I am in a big city, and people just aren't as friendly as small towns, but come on! It was an alright neighborhood, and I don't really look too suspicious or unfriendly, I think. I mean, I am on a bicycle. I was fixing a flat tire. What would these people be worried about? I guess they just want to stay in their bubble, and I happened to be invading their bubble, and they didn't like that, or they weren't comfortable enough with my presence to even say 'hi' or be friendly at all. Fuck places like that! I don't want to be in a place like that, where everyone is so scared or caught up in their own bullshit to say hi to a fucking traveler. Why would anyone want to live in a place like that?

This city really hasn't treated me well on this journey. Tomorrow I leave and head north to hopefully more friendly areas. Should be. No big cities for quite a while. I look forward to camping again. Oh, and just to spit in my face on top of everything else, it started raining as I rode across town to the southern Mission district.

Later, San Francisco. Maybe next time we'll meet on better terms.


Giff dropped me off at Golden Gate Park. See ya, buddy.

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