Our Day From Hell
The one consistent bit of advice I got for the eastern half of the country was to avoid riding on the highways in western Pennsylvania. Especially US-40. But after a particularly good day yesterday, we decided to go ahead and US-40 a try. How bad could it be, anyway?
By the end of the day we’d been assaulted with empty beer bottles from a passing pickup truck, ridden 118 miles, and climbed nearly 12,000 feet. I was bruised, battered, and bone tired as we finished the day well after dark, riding steep and hilly roads while the temperature plummeted to below 40 degrees F.
One large pizza (covered with every kind of meat available) and a hot shower fixed me right up. But it’s a day I won’t ever forget. Probably the hardest (and worst) day of riding between the Pacific and the Atlantic, sandwiched between two wonderful days.