Day Sixty-Five: Aiken - St. George

We were half-asleep when we showed up to continental breakfast with 15 minutes left before it was to be cleared out and cleaned up. There was practically nothing left except for dry powdered donuts and waffle mix, and the syrup container was empty, so I walked across the room to the desk, where the attendant stared blankly at the screen in front of her, then drowsily looked up a few seconds after I arrived, and I asked politely if they might be willing to refill the syrup. “Nah, honey, that’s it.” she responded. Seriously? I know for a fact that there were at least three bulk-sized syrup containers in the cupboard below the waffle iron, but she was just too lazy to do it. I was pissed. Ain’t nobody wanna eat a dry waffle. Neither Slater nor I wanted to eat what was left, so we decided we’d drive to IHOP instead, since we still had the car for another few hours.

IHOP was delicious, and it had syrup, so all was good in the world. We scarfed down breakfast in order to return the car to Enterprise in time, but when we showed up to the location, we realized it wasn’t exactly your average Enterprise, but rather a branch that was contracted with an auto body shop in case their customers needed a replacement vehicle for a short time. That meant there was only one agent available, and enough impatient customers to make the experience a lengthy one. They promised us a ride back to the hotel after our drop-off, but by that time, they were so caught up in other business that we had been put on the back burner. We had a strict checkout time at the motel, so we reluctantly left the shop and began to walk back slowly but surely in the beating sun. Before we knew it, the agent came speeding up next to us and screeched to a hault, then said bitterly, “Come on” and waved us in the car. It was awkward.

We drove in silence back to the motel, refusing to acknowledge how uncomfortable the situation was since we left Enterprise in a huff, and then we eagerly stepped out of the car once we reached the front entrance and thanked the agent for his help, though we were still a little irritated. In a rush, we packed up our bikes and left for what would be our longest ride yet: 90 miles. The kicker, however, is that we had no idea it was a 90-mile ride, and actually we figured it would be more like 70, so we were unpleasantly surprised when the ride seemed to drag on painfully as we inched forward, mile by mile. It was also one of the hottest days yet, at a whopping 105 degrees and upwards of 80% humidity, and we found ourselves stopping every 10 miles just to breathe in air conditioning wherever we could. By 5:30, we still had 40 miles to ride, and we thought, No way in Hell. We sat at a gas station in Blacksville, SC to rest, where two old men chatted our ears off, one riding a lawn mower because he had lost his license due to driving under the influence, and the other with his bottom teeth covered in a tar-like black sludge from years of chewing tobacco. It was a scene straight from the “Just Say No” campaign videos in elementary school—seriously. We eventually became tired of nodding and laughing half-heartedly, after all we were exhausted and not havin’ it, so we sucked it up and hopped on the bikes for another grueling 40 miles.

It took forever to get to St. George, and for the first time, we rode in the dark. It was surprisingly pleasant despite the fear factor of being on the highway at night; but the wind was cooler than usual, and despite our aches and pains, we knew the end was near. We arrived at 9:30 p.m. and checked into another motel (no way were we going to camp in that humidity), and that was when we checked our GPS to find out that we had ridden 90 miles—no wonder we could hardly walk. I jaunted across the street to pick up dinner, which unfortunately was McDonald’s, and brought it back just in time to catch Slater awake, and he promptly passed out as if he was drugged just minutes later. We slept anxiously, knowing in the backs of our minds that the next day would be our last ride of the entire trip.