Chapter 13

The last day of the coast to coast bicycle tour was shocking and anti-climatic at the same time. It was anti-climatic because everything seemed so ordinary. The whole way from the motel, twenty five miles from the ocean, right to the parking lot of the public beach where Marty wanted to make the photograph to officially end the trip was so routine. There was a lot more traffic, but the GPS routed us through the least traveled streets. It took three hours to go 25 miles, but that was to be expected, we were in California and driving in beach traffic all the way.

The day began with what was to be our final breakfast of the trip. Marty wanted to go to the fancy pancake house for breakfast. I didn't have nearly as much pain as I expected to have, so I agreed. My ribs were the only thing that I actually noticed. The scrapes were irritated by my clothing now and then, but mostly they were benign,

I pulled the car into the parking lot behind Marty. He found a spot big enough for the bike near the door, but I had to park the car several yards away. I locked the three year old Ford before I walked to the entrance of the nationally advertised pancake house. Marty was waiting at the door for me. He opened it and I walked through just like I had at all the other breakfast restaurants across the country. The fancy pancake house was the first of its kind for the trip though. Generally we stayed where it was more likely a cafe or local diner for breakfast.

"Welcome to IHOP," the just past high school age girl said in greeting. "Two in your party?"

"Yes two," Marty replied.

"There is a ten minute wait for a table. Just have a seat and I'll come get you." she added, smiling as though she had just done us a huge favor.

I turned to Marty expecting him to say let's move on. Instead he shrugged and moved to the padded bench. I tried to smile, even though sitting around waiting to give my money to someone for food really galled me, even on special occasions. To wait around for fucking pancakes seemed ridiculous, but it was Marty's money, not mine, so I sat down beside him. Since I had taken my pills, it didn't hurt much at all to sit.

It was also the second day after my accident. The first day I slept late and we covered only 60 miles, me in the car and Marty on his bike. Marty pulled into the generic motel parking lot around 4 PM then spent a lot of time running big secret errands in the car. I was in some pain, but not a lot, since I was taking my meds religiously. I had been injured enough times in my life to understand the value of staying on schedule with painkillers. Consequently, I slept a great deal that evening.

I had spent enough time sleeping the evening before, so that I was very hungry that last morning. I was way past ready to eat when the teenager came for us. I was ready to suggest that we get up and leave. During the twenty minute wait, Marty stayed on his fancy phone, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I was losing my good mood during that wait.

"What the hell are you doing?" I finally asked.

"Just telling some friends from the forum that we made it."

"Are they going to meet us for lunch or something?" I asked.

"I think they might come to the park to greet us."

"That's cool," I said.

After we finally got seated, the service proved to be just as slow. It took us 90 minutes total to get out of the restaurant. I'm sorry the strawberry pancake syrup was not worth the time and money spent in that bright, clean restaurant. It just didn't appeal to me enough to ever go back.

After breakfast, I followed Marty on his winding journey to the ocean. It took us three hours, as I said earlier. Marty got to thirty miles an hour once or twice, but it was mostly twenty or twenty five miles an hour for a few hundred yards then stop and wait for traffic to clear at an intersection. It had to be miserable for Marty; it sure as hell was for me.

It was after noon when we pulled into the parking lot of the public beach. I was surprised that the parking lot was full on a weekday. I supposed it was because of the time of day. Marty pulled the bike to the front of the parking lot. Again, I had to park several yards away.

I was more than a little surprised to find Marty surrounded when I finally made my way to the beachfront side of the parking lot. Some of the people were obviously reporters, though I had no idea why they would be waiting for us. I stood back watching and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

An older man with long white hair and a long beard came toward me. If he had approached me at night in a bar, my hand would have gone to the .38. As it was, I just shifted my weight. My mind moved into the fight or flight response mode.

"You must be Max?" he said, smiling at me.