I'm not in a hurry.

Baby steps. Takin' it easy. My mottos.

I'm still in Charleston. I got caught up in a rip-roaring game of trivia pursuit that lasted into the night. The question of "how many feet long is the pitch for a game of horseshoes?", started a debate that lasted a good twenty-five minutes. The faction that wanted three-feet won. It's forty-feet.

I was pretty slow getting out of bed, and missed my planned departure time of 6 am. I repacked and boxed a couple things to send ahead. The "fifteen minute" walk to the post office took about an hour each way. And by the time I got back it was about 1:00pm. I planned the route, repack my bags, and ate some food, and it was 3:00pm. I got on the bike, but in the end thought it was a little too late to start. I'm camping out tonight behind the hostel, which is my baby step. It's good to get the hammock broken in, before I'm on the road

There are three other travelers staying at the hostel. Brice, another cyclist, who is on day 150 of a 10 year trip. He has got a personality, no denying it; he holds court like no-others. When I switched up my tube the tire, my replacement tube was oversized. It rode okay, but I was concerned about the longevity of it, and stressing my expensive tire. So, I got the right tube and was switching it up during the game of trivia pursuit. Once again the tire was tough to get off. Brice gave me the simple advice that it was cold and tighter to the rim. Waiting for it to warm and soften up and it wasn't as tough. Still the process was about 45 minutes to an hour. With my other rims and older tire, I can switch up a tube in about a minute. Anyways, he related a story about the only flat he's had on his trip, and not being able to get the tire off his wheel. I felt a little better about myself, especially give the cold. "Shaking off the fuzz" is what Brice told me to do, about two dozen times. Good advice; words just cryptic enough.

Brice spent the whole evening pining over the clerk at the local corner store. A women named Connie, who had more gold teeth than teeth made of tooth material. My imagination also gave her prom-style hair-do. With Brice's description of his conversations with her, it's hard to tell whether it was playful flirting or a game of highstakes roshambo. He had her number, but thought a date would delay his departure. He'd been sucked into Charleston, and had been here two weeks already.

Max, a temporary Luddite, was doing the United States by greyhound. He had a been in town for three weeks, and had a gig dressed as a statue-liberty (photo courtesy of Brice - used without permission). Waving at cars, and then dancing at them, once his shoulder got too fatigued from waving. It was for a local tax-filing company, who paid him under the table. In their enlighten position - taxes are a hassle.

Tomorrow is the day. I'll hit the road for sure. I'm concerned about my wheels. They're the originals, so they're about as old as me. I was thinking about switching them up, but I like the cog-set it's got a great granny gear on. The hub is a screw on, not a cassette (if I've got my lingo right.)