I wake early having decided that I will continue. I leave Scott
to deal with his numb hands, he is despondent and I don't think he will
continue. My knee seems to be over the worst but I take the Ibrobrufen
as a precaution. The day starts with a ride out of town and then long
climbs and descents. On one descent I see a rider in the distance, with
my 28" wheels, suspension forks and saddle I soon catch up with the
tortoise that is Kent Peterson. We ride together on and off for the rest
of the day, the wind blows hard in our faces and my prized White
Brothers suspension fork gets stuck in lockout, Kent has no sympathy at
all, he silently invites me to his rigid world. We share a room at the
Grasshopper Inn late that evening and we talk. Kent is very purposeful,
he is unphased by the arduousness of the event. The wind outside is
howling, the rain clatters on the boardwalk and the sky explodes with
thunder and lightning. I lie in bed with a bag of ice strapped to my
knee. I prod the palm of my left hand for some sign of sensation.
Kent's BB falls out!
Kent's BB falls out!