99 Bottles of Piss On The Road

First, let me apologize for not blogging every night. It's not like I haven't wanted to, but circumstances sometimes conspire against plans. In addition to spotty Internet access, the weather has been somewhat uncooperative -- leaving me with little time and energy to blog. 25 mph headwinds, 35 mph crosswinds, 8-10 hour days, aches and pains, days of climbing mountain passes, 7500 ft elevations, etc. But you don't want to hear about any of that. That's just the monotonous backdrop to the real excitement.

Secondly, let me apologize for today's topic. Ok, I'm not really apologizing, but over the past few days, I had made mental notes for a variety of more mainstream stories. On Friday, for example, while riding from Kingman to Seligman, I had a lunch at the Canyon Restaurant that inspired a story called "A Tale of Two Pastries". Then, on Saturday, a mouthful of dirt gave birth to "Uncomplicated Wisdom: They Say You Eat A Peck of Dirt Before You Die".

I also had a few high-brow educational stories queued up about Roy's Cafe, the Amboy Crater, and Hackberry Automotive. And, after eating dinner tonight at the Butterfield Steakhouse, I almost bumped today's headline for "Holbrook: The Gayest Place in Arizona".

But, alas, I can only tell one story at a time. If anyone really wants to hear those stories let me know. I'm not holding my breath.

So anyway... Today we rode from Seligman to Holbrook, AZ. Little of the old road remains along the route, so most of the mileage was on I-40. Today was not the first day that we rode on I-40, but it was the longest. Of the 88 miles to Holbrook, 74 of them were on I-40. On previous jaunts down I-40, I could not help but notice the abundance of bottles laying along the side of the road -- filled with piss. Today, they seemed to be in greater abundance.

There were bottles of all denomination. Coke, Pepsi, various brands of bottled water, Gatorade, etc. I spent a few seconds wondering about why it is that the truckers feel compelled to fling their caged urine out into the wild. Couldn't they just wait for a proper dumpster? Or at least leave the lids off to facilitate evaporation? And just how many bottles are out here? That last question took hold. I started counting.

When spending 8+ hours a day on a bicycle, a person needs to find ways to keep their mind busy. Sometimes this time can be very productive. There have been many times when I have worked out some difficult problems, both technical and social, while on the bike. However, with so much time on the bike, one cannot always be focused on solving the world's problems.

It only took about 30 minutes to get too bored to continue counting, although I was still somewhat curious about the number. I decided to estimate. I had counted 12 bottles in the last 9 miles. That works out to 1 1/3 bottles per mile. At first, I was not entirely comfortable with that estimate, given the fact that the Gatorade bottles were sometimes tough to call. Was that piss or Gatorade in the bottle? I had neither the time nor the stomach to stop and check, so I decided that all Gatorade bottles were actually piss bottles. Hey, it's not like I'm publishing in a scientific journal.

After lunch, I scanned the route card and estimated that about 74 miles of today's ride was on I-40. Using my 1 1/3 bottle per mile estimate, and rounding up to the nearest whole number, that worked out to 99 bottles of piss that I would pass on I-40 today. I wondered if any of the truckers were singing that old road song, "99 bottles of beer" as they filled and tossed their bottles.

Unfortunately, variations on that song occupied my thoughts for the next several miles. No, I would not be solving any of the world's problems this afternoon.

Ride Summary

Friday: 91 miles from Kingman, AZ to Seligman, AZ
Saturday: 80 miles from Seligman, AZ to Flagstaff, AZ
Sunday: 88 miles from Flagstaff, AZ to Holbrook, AZ

The miles are starting to pile up -- now that we are riding over 600 a week. By Monday night we will be in New Mexico.

Miles this Year: 2540