Traveled 3,467 miles

Not to be misleading, a few chunks of that were not on the bicycle. I had a 60-mile four-hour ferry ride across Lake Michigan to Wisconsin.
I also had a few rides: when I ran into a lightning/thunderstorm, and it was already dark and late, a fully loaded moving van stopped and managed to get all my gear in the 2-level cabin behind the driver. Remarkable, because his wife and one grown daughter were already ensconced in the space, as were some of the customer's possessions that did not fit into the van. It was carrying 28,000 pounds!
I was cold and tired and I dozed off. He was going to unload in Albuquerque and go on to LA, so he said he'd take me all the way, if I wanted. I got out in Albuquerque about 10pm. It is amazing how easily a truck that big moves at 75 mph, and how comfortable it was. I felt guilty about the extended ride, and had I not dozed off, I would have gotten off sooner, but: the thunder, lightning and heavy rain continued much of the way to Albuquerque and was supposed to continue through the next day as well.
The last hitch I made was in the desert. I was on Interstate 40 and heading from Needles, CA to Ludlow, 83 miles away, where there was supposed to be a motel available. I got about 40 miles, after battling strong headwinds, and many hills. I never knew I would be going up and down so much. I actually gained about 2,700 feet in elevation. That's why they call it "high desert."
At about that 40-mile point, around 2:15 in the afternoon, there was a sign saying bikes must exit. Usually bikes are not allowed when there is an alternate route. But when I got to the end of the off-ramp, there was only a sign pointing me to Old Route 66 and Amboy, 46 miles away, as opposed to the truck stop less than 2 miles further on the Interstate. I was tired and did not have enough water to go another 46 miles where there might, or might not be services available.
By the way, the state highway department had closed the only rest area for almost 200 miles (for repairs that would not be complete before December). It was unconscionable to do that in the desert! Tell Arnold I will NOT be back.
Fortunately, I never saw one highway patroller in all of California until within LA County, and I was illegal on more occasions as well.
I got back on I40, illegal now, and was delighted to down a cold beer in what seemed like one swallow at the truck stop. I was beat. I can handle the temperature, meaning 112 was not the issue. I did not sweat much (8% humidity), I drank often (but water hotter than my body temperature is not pleasant), and did not feel uncomfortable, but: it saps your energy fuel tank quickly and I needed the rest. After downing a hot dog, then a snow cone, I fell asleep in a chair, for a while, at least. Many tour buses came through, always with Korean passengers. I thought I would wait for my batteries to recharge and for a later-in-the-day restart when it might be cooling a little. Then the owner/manager and his wife told me the signs were wrong and Ludlow was another 58 miles, so I set out at 4:30.
I got maybe 10 miles further and realized that I was not going at a fast enough pace, and the hills were killing me, so macho went by the wayside and I used my head instead and hitched. Fortunately, I found an overpass to stand under, which had to be 15 degrees cooler. It was 98 in the shade at the truck stop.
All the pickup trucks roared past me, but a lone man in a PT Cruiser stopped and my gear fit in, once I removed the front wheel. He is a courier making one or two round-trips a week to collect water samples from the Colorado River at Needles and bring them to LA for testing. Name: Marion Bowles. Although he wasn't using air conditioning, it was way better than being "out there." After just under 50 miles, we saw no motels at Ludlow, so continued to Barstow, another 50 miles (and only 38 minutes at highway speeds). We stopped for gas at Barstow and I found a Motel 6 in the yellow pages, a few miles down Main Street. Marion wanted to eat dinner first, at a Flying J truck stop that has an all-you-can-eat buffet for $10.95, so there we went. I paid for dinner, but Marion did not want to go back the few miles, saying there was another Motel 6 ahead, near Victorville, as if I knew where that was. It was 20 miles further!! I felt hoodwinked because he still kept pushing me to go all the way to LA.
Marion, you were extremely nice to pick me up, but you did not do me a favor by forcing me 2o miles downroad.
From Barstow, it was 14 miles to the Cajon Pass, a 12-mile downhill ride, from an elevation of around 4,900 feet. It took me 2 hours to go just under 13 miles due to the 20+mph headwinds. At one point I could barely keep the bike balanced, on level ground, and fighting to hold 5.3 mph!! The shoulder was the white stripe and the road surface resembled a jigsaw puzzle or the parched chunks of land you see in drought country. Rough and uncomfortable.
The frontage road I was on ended abruptly, leaving I40 the only option. I was not going to get cheated, after over 3,000 miles, from having the greatest downhill ride of the country, so onto I40 I went. The 1st 4 miles were a 6% grade, and I started to fly, but the expansion joints were so bumped up that I could not go more than around 18mph and maintain control, not to mention tolerate the rough ride. And neither could the tires. I had a flat on the rear after 2 miles. I had to take off all the gear. Just maintaining my own balance, standing on a steep grade, bent over the wheel in open sun was a challenge. Then too, I was using a new super thick super burr-resisting tube, which I had great difficulty in stuffing into the tire and getting the tire on the rim. The tube was so thick and heavy that the box it comes in is the size of a full carton of cigarettes!
It took maybe 45 minutes to complete the chore. I went another 2 miles and took a break at a truck stop, then set out again. The grade was maybe 4% now, and the pavement better, but still not really good. I held my speed back to 27 or 28 and an occasional 30, whereas with a good surface I would have been close to 40, if I dared. It is not nice to have a flat at speed when the tire and bike go squiggly. You worry about being able to stop in time before destroying the rim, or worse: crashing at speed. I felt a little cheated out of a great ride, but then, it was still pretty damned good to go for 8 miles without pedaling.
I15 was heading southwest, so I continued to I210, which runs east-west, also illegal. It took over 4.5 miles to get to the first exit, when I headed south looking for the parallel local road I had seen on the map, found it, called daughter Leila, and set the rendezvous point. This was San Bernadino County. 14 miles later, at 8:05, I sat and waited for Leila to arrive shortly thereafter.
Then we stuffed the bike in her car and went on to her place.
I used the waiting time to call all the members of my family.
Today, the first day after, feels odd. I feel no euphoria, and also never doubted I would finish the trip. It just feels a little anticlimactic. But it did get me a bargain today.
I went to buy a pair of jeans and found a store selling Bullhead jeans @ 2 for $55. Although a small shop, they had a great size selection and I found a good-fitting pair (for now, until I gain back the weight). While I was in the try-on room, my friend Gene told the salesgirl I had just arrived the night before from NJ by bicycle. She immediately offered a $25 coupon they give to sports people, usable immediately. But it was not off the single $39.95 pair. I had to buy 2 pair. So the 2 pair for $55 minus the coupon, came to $30, whereas the single pair came to $39.95!!!
Duh!
So I asked her how much money SHE would give ME if I bought 4 pair.
I wore them home, but first I had to contort my leg onto the counter to get the magnetic alarm tag off. It was easier than mounting the bike over my panniers.
I will need more time to gain perspective and make pithy remarks about the trip. I will also be posting some fuller and better-considered advice to the Marine amputee who is going x-country next year with 4 other wounded marines. Ditto re: the man from Costa Mesa (with the very handsome young son) who thinks they might go x-country too (sorry, but the boy must have gotten his good looks from his mother).
Leila took some pics of me when I arrived. Now to get them via e-mail and choose one to post.
Bob