(South of) Frenchtown, New Jersey to Horsham, Pennsylvania – July 13, 2017

Infiltrating Fred's Place - New Hope, Pennsylvania

It’s heating up in Pennsylvania. I put in mileage early to avoid the ninety degree temperature, and high humidity, that comes later in the day.

I rode for about fifteen miles, crossed the Delaware into Pennsylvania and into the funky little town of New Hope. Using Google, I found “Fred’s Breakfast”, a members only eating club. Cycling up, there were no signs indicating that I had arrived at the right spot. I observed people using key cards to gain access the interior of the establishment. After locking my bike, I waited for a couple to enter, slipping in before the door closed.

Menu Confirmation

Inside, I found free coffee and noticed the Thursday special, an assortment of quiches. I sat at the U-shaped counter and ordered the artichoke (excellent). Happy Birthday was sung to two different people while I was seated. A resident dog was in the habit of howling along with the tune. This exclusive “breakfast” club is an interesting idea. They mustn’t be too tight with the rules.

I moved on, without any major stops, to a park just outside of Warrington. Finding two trees that met the golden distance for my hammock, I ate, napped and spent time writing. I will be most direct in saying that a hammock has become, for me, a bicycle touring necessity. It’s beyond luxurious, it is a way of life on the road.

The Usual Set Up

After packing my things, I cycled a short distance. To my left, I saw a sign for the Horsham Township Library. I felt a strong pull, not understood at the time, to enter; I followed my instinct.

It wasn’t but twenty minutes later, and half a Sprite, that the sky opened up in a torrential downpour. Thunder and lightning lit the sky. Faces in the library came out of books and turned toward windows. I could clearly see myself, in an alternate universe, huddling under a tree as I struggled to put on rain gear, head ducked with an expression of heightened attention and concern.

Warning Message

Glancing at the weather forecast confirmed my fears, thirty-six hours of rain, flash flooding and lightning storms. My finger swept left then touched the Kayak application to search for a cheap hotel in the area. Extended Stay America fit the bill and was a mere three-and-a-half miles away; I booked it.

Timing is everything. The library was open until nine o’clock, so the pressure was off to leave in a rush for the hotel. I waited patiently for a break in the rain; if it held, once I commenced pedaling, I would be in my room in about twenty minutes. I was optimistically confident my luck would continue.

The rain and lightning stopped; I flew outside to my bike, neglecting to don my wind breaker, waterproof shorts and shoe covers. I had this.

Flying down the streets, five minutes  from my destination, my karma was depleted. The rain came so hard and fast, I wondered if Noah had experienced worse. Fifteen seconds of this downpour was like diving into a river. Thunder boomed; lightning danced overhead. A man dropped his passenger window and hollered a warning. Nodding in affirmation, I wondered if the EMT’s would be able to restart my heart when they found me shoeless on the pavement.

Minutes later, I stumbled through the doors of the hotel. The look of a woman waiting at the reception desk could be interpreted, correctly, in two ways “fool” or “idiot.”