Crestview, FL to Pensacola, FL (48 miles)

Wednesday May 7, 2007: Ride #10

Left Crestview at 6:51am. I was up by 5am and took time to get everything back in place in my bags and relax before heading out. Ate breakfast in the room and then split.

Not an hour on the road, I came to the town of Holt and Bowman's gas station. This place was a classic and I had no idea when I rolled up. As Ed Hobbs, the first guy to talk to me, put it: "If you don't get the newspaper, you come here. All the town's news can be heard right here." Once she saw us talking, the 24-hour gas station/bait shop attendant on a smoke break outside said to me "I see you met our local target practice" laughing as she referred to Ed and his bicycle.

Ed is a 62 year old man from Mississppi. College educated and retired, he buys bikes at flea markets and sees if he can fix them up. Today he had parked outside Bowman's his favorite of the three bikes he owns. It is turquoise blue and with the easy-rider look to it I understand why he insists it has the feel of a recumbant bike in an upright form factor. With an occasional EAA-Oshkosh sticker he had affixed to his bike, it was a beauty. He shared a tip: to keep his butt from sweating, he wraps plastic grocery bags over the seat. He also has a shoulder rocket launcher canister strapped to the rack on the back in which he keeps his tools, airpump, etc. With wire racks on the back, and 5 America Online CD's stacked at the front handlebars to act as a reflector, this rig was a classic. I was as amazed at his ride as he was at mine, marveling at my disc brakes, spoke holder, etc.

Ed tells me he is training for a longer distance ride on the Natchez Trace in Tennessee. At 62, he rides 20 miles each Sunday, though this last weekend he rode "two marathons" (as he put it): 27 miles out and 27 miles back, just to see if he could do it.

Ed shared with me that he wants to build a house out of those huge steel shipping containers you see on ships and trains sometimes. He has purchased two at $2,000 each. "Real nice ones, hardly any dents." He has a couple acres and intends to build a home there with these containers, insulating it, etc. He also wants to be free of all utilities by relying on solar power, etc. Amazing dreams shared so freely with just some San Diego guy like me riding by.

He said he gets by on about $5,500 a year, partly because he only rides his bike everywhere. A bicycle enthusiast and unaffected by gas prices, he hopes that the rising price of gas causes America to find another direction than petroleum. I hadn't thought I would be gathering opinions about gas prices from Americans along this ride, but it seems like it stems from any biking conversation, and appropriate for Presidential candidates. I wonder if I would get a large vote with a hand-shaking baby-kissing effort like that.

As Ed Hobbs was heading off with his orange safety vest tied on but no helmet, I met Hugh Adams who said "I heard you say you were from San Diego". Yessir, I said, almost feeling proud of my attempt to slide in to my surroundings. Hugh was proud to share with me that he spent one year studying in San diego at the Navy Prep school (later moved to Pensacola) to dodge the draft for the Korean conflict. After asking me what was left of Navy buildings here and there, I pedaled on down Highway 90.


Back on Highway 90, a road crew seemed to mock me with their SLOW signs. As I snapped the photo, the other crew members started laughing, seeing my loaded bike and knowing why I had pulled the camera out.


East of Milton, along Highway 90, I picked up the original State Road SR1 originally opened in 1921. It was a mishmash of brick, concrete, soft sand, and multiple asphalt patches put in place over the years, but it felt historic being on it. Before I even got on the path, I was just riding parallel to it on the shoulder of Highway 90 going west, and I heard a shout from someone on the path clear as a bell "Way to go, son. Keep pedaling!!!" Realizing that was for me, the sudden and temporary quickening of my pedaling took place. I shouted "thanks, man" as I rode on but never saw the face from where the encouragement came.

In Milton, I met a couple motorcyclists as I pulled into a BP station. Mary and Dennis had two very nice motorcycles parked in the shade as they were preparing to get back on and head off. Dennis flat out laughed at me when I responded "San Diego" to his inquiry as to where I was heading. "On that thing?" he said, as if I was riding the bike Ed Hobbs in Holt had. After a few more questions for me, I think they saw I was for real and both congratulated me on the quest, and rode off on their motorized and also GPS-enabled versions of what I was riding.

After a one-hour stop at the Milton library to update the blog, I got started again toward Pensacola. Foolish mistake. The wind had picked up, with headwinds at 10-20 mph. Getting out of Milton wasn't easy with the traffic I was convinced had no respect for bikes despite the "share the roadway" signs I think only I was seeing. Once to the bay, the shoulder deteriorated periodically, but knowing I was only a few miles now from my evening destination, I kept pedaling wth my face in the wind. Up on over the bridge over Escambia Bay followed by some nice rollers on Scenic Highway 90, and finally into residential sideroads where I will stay tonight with my friend Ashley Patrick and his wife. I hadn't seen Ashley in over 8 years when I worked with him in Mobile. Laughs have started already.