Day 71 – Tucson, AZ to Casa Grande, AZ – 72 miles

While I was still asleep, Mr. Chile had noticed the slow leak in my rear tire. I was pretty sure I had a slow leak, but the previous day it seemed fine, so I thought I was being paranoid. He patched it. There was also still a slow leak in my sleeping mat, which he checked for as well without luck. Boo. I will have to deal with it for now.

I ate a hearty bowl of oatmeal for breakfast and some tea. I got everything packed up and ready, and had been given good directions to get to the road that parallels I 10. I was on my way.

I followed my directions to the dead end of the road to get on the river path, but it was unclear where to access it. There was a park under construction. I turned around to see if I missed something, and saw three bikers headed toward me. I asked them if they knew where the path was, and they were headed to it, so I followed the friendly Europeans. We had to walk our bikes across some sand to get to it. That’s better!

I  moved a bit slow, enjoying my surroundings and soaking up the bike lanes while they lasted. I made it to where the road I needed to get to was supposed to be, but I felt like I had gone too far south. I made a right onto Silverbell Avenue and followed it. I saw a bunch of bikers heading in the opposite direction I was moving, and was really happy. Bikers in droves appeared as I continued, and then I figured it was the people training for the big Arizona ride that the Chile’s had been talking about. But then it seemed like they were maybe racing, and I saw signs that read, “GABA,” and I put two and two together that this was an actual race. Awesome!

Once the road winded and narrowed and the bike path disintegrated, when riders in packs went by me, they cheered at me. I cheered back. I waved to many, many people today. I finally took out my GPS to see where I could find my way back and wound my way to where I needed to be. I was now in Marana, which I supposed was a suburb of Tucson.

I found Frontage road and stopped to replenish my water at a gas station. I talked with a clerk on her smoke break while I ate my lunch, who was very friendly and did not ask me anything about my bike. She just wanted to talk about other stuff. Then the owner of a red motorcycle, John, came to talk to me. He was excited as people tend to be for me, and has done a lot of traveling on his cycle. He was a super nice guy.

I hopped on Frontage Road, and about a mile down the way a white truck driven by a guy in mis mid-thirties who had been talking to the store clerk at the gas station pulled alongside me. He talked to me as I rode, and was nice at first, and told me that if I intended to ride Frontage road west, I needed to be on the other Frontage road on the other side of the interstate, so I would need to turn around, as this road would end. Thank you! Why not call it a different road, people? But then was persistent that we “hang out” for the remainder of the day. “I’m busy.” He annoyed me for a bit and said some crude things as I tried to turn around, insisting that he could drop me off in Casa Grande. “My boyfriend is meeting me there.” I said, as short as possible, in an attempt to shake him. He had the nerve to then say, “Well you don’t have to tell him anything.” What is wrong with guys?

I was happy as a clam in the deep abyss of the sea when I got on Frontage road finally. I had gone an extra five miles out of my way, but it was worth it to see that race! And then, one of my day fantasies came true. I saw a roadrunner! It was running alongside me and I was out-biking him. Plus, the Flaming Lips song Race for the Prize was playing. It was so cool! I stopped to see if I could take a picture, but then he went north and I couldn’t get him. Still, I was giddy about this for miles. I am such a dork.

The road turned into another road that looked like it might take me in the wrong direction, so just in case, I jumped back on the interstate. I saw no signs that said I couldn’t. Even though the traffic was noticeable heavier at this time than I have experienced, I figured it was fine once I saw highway patrol cars passing me by. That is, until I came to the exit I needed to take t get into Casa Grande. Spinning lights that were waiting for me. Drats. The officer got out of his vehicle and I played dumb. I really did not see signs, so I didn’t have to lie. I was polite and let him know that I was on the side road but was not sure where it would take me, and he dropped his authoritative guard. He basically admitted he pulled me over because he wanted to know where I was traveling to and wanted to talk to me. He still gave me a written warning, but then commenced trying to have a conversation with me. I was a bit annoyed, even though he was nice. The sun was setting, and I was going into a city, so finding camping was not going to be a quick thing.

Officer Martin also told me “You’re not allowed,” (wink wink), “to ride your bike,” (wink wink), “on I 8, either.” I stared at him. “So I can or can’t?” I asked him. He winked “You can’t, but no one will give you a hard time. If they do, just tell them Officer Martin cleared you.” Yeah, sure man. Whatever you say. I will ride on I 8, as there is no alternative. So when I get close to cities, I will get off at exits, and feel like I will be fine. As long as I have a reasonable explanation, I feel like I will not get in trouble.

He pulled me over once more to give me lengthy directions to take a road to I 8 I was already planning on taking, and then I really was annoyed. He was trying to continue to converse, and the sun was fading over the horizon. I broke free and rode fast. I rode for quite awhile before I found the perfect spot. Basically, it was a patch of desert near some cotton fields. First time I really was camping in the desert, even though it was in a city. I pitched my tent away from the snake holes and cooked some cornmeal soup and started getting in to my new book, Jailbird, that I picked up in Benson. The prologue was really boring, but the book is peaking my interest. I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Mr. Vonnegut.

Cactus mountain

The tall cactus I know you have all been waiting for

First sign that I’m nearing the end

Desert camping

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