Last night the group decided to take different routes to Charlottesville. John needs to make it to a bike shop with time to work on his bike, Mike needs a shorter day to recover a little and I decided to keep an eye on him. We took the 22 and 250. Busy with no shoulder. Whatever.
The other four went the AC route through Palmyra, which is much longer. They may visit Monticell, Thomas Jefferson's home.
In the morning, John and I asked two men at a Napa auto parts store about a breakfast place and they could think of nothing except McDonalds or Harveys. Two blocks later we found a coffee shop. John told a story about a woman who knew nothing about a town 2 miles down the road from the house she had lived in for 17 yrs.
When we got into the city, we talked to the people at the hostel, but it was too pricey for us. $200 for six of us and we would have to share beds. Instead the woman from the hostel referred us to her friend Chelly, who would host us in her yard. John arranged for free showers at a local gym (ACAC). It takes a city to support a cycling group.
We hung out on the mall until 3:30, when massive thunder storm came through. I had just started talking on the phone with the other half of the group and told them to seek shelter. So glad we didn't set up our tents.
We met two separate men (Jim and then Topher) who had Bike Fridays (Pocket Rockets, I think).
We met Chelly and her son Emerson at around 5 pm. Sweet, sweet woman; one of those people who walks the walk in a truer direction than I. We picked from her strawberry and raspberry patches, met her chickens and camped out in her yard.
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