Day 37 - Burlington, CO

I looked forward to the short day ahead, just 67 miles to Burlington, Colorado. We would enter our 11th state and second time zone of the trip.

The morning was cloudy and cool and I started the day in a strong headwind, finding it difficult to keep a comfortable pace. I wanted to move faster but had to push hard to make 13 mph. The roads were long and flat and I kept my head down for miles at a time, watching my shadow brush up against the white line on the side of the road.




I grabbed lunch in a town with an immense reproduction of a van Gough painting. There have been so many strange and interesting oddities along this trip. I visited a prarie musem afterward, seeing pictures from the dustbowl years of the plains and reading about the sandstorms that would pass through -- black clouds of death.

A click came from my drive train, which I ignored for a few miles. As I shifted gears the cranks locked momentarily then released. This seemed odd but I continued for another handful of miles. The clicking remained and it bothered me just enough to take a look. One of the links of my chain had come unhinged.

I pulled off onto the grass at the side of the long vacant road, took my bags off and rested my bike upside down. I've never worked on a chain before, but had a chain breaker on a multi-tool I carry. I pulled it out and began to try driving he pin back into place. I mishandled the tool and managed to bend the link instead of reconnecting it. I fudged it
a bit into position and hoped for the best as I got back on the bike.

10 feet later my crank spun free and I saw my chain broken, dragging, off the rear cog. I thought for a moment about where I was, on a low traffic road 15 miles from the next town. I again set my bike upside down with the plan of removing the broken link. I drove a pin out with the chain breaker until it fell out and into my hand. I then attemtped to position the pin to go back into the chain one link over. I fiddled with the pin, trying to set it up perfectly under the driver, and after 15 minutes my hands were sore from trying to hold the tool, the pin and the chain. It occured to me that this would never work. I broke another link this time leaving the pin engaged on one side, lined up the link and drove it back through. The connection looked solid and felt smooth when I began riding again.

The crash course in chain repair gave me a much needed boost of energy to power through the last 15 miles.




Later that evening while at a bar and grill I met Phil Rhoades, a 74 year old Cowboy as real as the come. He road his first bull at the age of 12 and proceeded to make a living at it for 34 years. At his peak he was riding 400 bulls a year. "it get's in your blood" he told me. "It doesnt make sense because you're going to get fucked up, but you keep riding." He is tall and slender with a gaunt face, exposing leathery wrinkles along his temples. He and his friend Terry bought me a couple rounds of beers and entertained me with stories about the plains and Colorado, some I'm sure were true.

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