Pueblo and beyond

Tuesday afternoon, we all headed in different directions to scout out various businesses for the next day. We agreed to meet in the hotel lobby to go to dinner. We needed to find the bike shop that would pack and ship our bike and trailer, we wanted to find a place to rent a car, we all decided to scout places to have dinner and for some reason, Chris and I had fixated on having a pedicure the next day to celebrate reaching Pueblo.

Pueblo is actually the halfway point on the TransAm route, so the three we would be leaving had actually reached quite a milestone, too. Rick was meeting his brother who was going to be attending his wife's family reunion and we had finished our trip. Needless to say, there were lots of emotions flying around and all of us were trying to avoid thinking about separating on Thursday morning. We were successful on all counts in terms of finding the necessary businesses for the next day. Dinner took place at the Shamrock Pub, about two blocks from the hotel. We were pretty much the only patrons in the place, so the bartender was happy to set a couple of the tv screens to pick up the Tour stage. They even provided us with the remote so that we could turn up the sound and mute the commercials.

We lingered over dinner and wine, and then Roger, Chris, Bob and I returned to Roger and Chris's room which was on the right side of the hotel to view some fireworks. Roger and Chris were quite excited about their first July 4 in "the Colonies" and we all chatted and laughed while we had a large-screen view out of their hotel window. Eventually, we wound down and headed off to bed with plans for errands and time to meet the next day. (Note: on a bike trip, a really late night is 10:00 p.m. This was no exception.)

Bob and I savored our breakfast buffet at the hotel. After the past three weeks, even the littlest things seemed like an amazing luxury. Our conversation mostly centered around how much we would miss our companions, who were family by then. We mused over how, at the beginning of the trip, we considered changing our flight because we had begun to doubt that we would be able to make Pueblo in time. We definitely enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment when we realized that the second half of the trip really showed us how much stronger we had become.

The bike shop was great: competent help, wonderful merchandise (yes, we shopped!). We made the arrangements for the shipping; Roger, Chris and Rick left their bikes for some halfway-point maintenance and then we all went on our way. Chris promised to contact me if she found a nail salon that had appointments, and we headed off to pick up our rental car. Bob had offered to find a U-Haul box for the trailer, which we knew would make it easier for them to pack and raise our chances of getting everything back to Pittsburgh promptly.

It was while we were on that trek that I got the opportunity to do my first text message. Chris had figured out that somehow, it didn't cost extra for her to use texting on her British cell phone, but making voice calls was expensive. She texted me that we had nail appointments at "1530," so my excitement grew as we finished our errands. After lunch at a local landmark, Redtop Burger, I set off with Roger and Chris and Bob went back to the hotel to relax.

Roger accompanied us because the Post Office and University were close to the salon, and he had posting and internet tasks to accomplish. We tried in vain to get him to join us in the indulgence of a pedicure, but he would have none of it. When we entered the salon, the nail tech asked Chris and me if we were sisters. Upon reflection, it wouldn't be hard to believe; we're about the same size, short hair, bike tans, quick wits, sparkly personalities, etc. It was the first pedicure for both of us and we were given the royal treatment: foot massage, a massage chair in which to sit during the process, the works! Chris also had a manicure and when we left, we felt glamorous indeed. Roger provided the requisite positive reinforcement, waxing eloquent about the beauty of our toenails all the way back to the hotel.

The day had flown by; Rick of course found some other cyclists to join us at the Shamrock for dinner: Tim, a young man from Yorkshire, and three American guys who had just graduated college. They were all going east to west. The three Americans were travelling by alternating one driving a van to the day's destination, then riding back to join the others. Therefore, we were quick to point out, though they were less than half our ages they were riding with no weight while we oldsters were riding totally unsupported. So there.

The evening came to an end too quickly. We had to make the drive to Denver to be ready to fly out on Thursday morning. Roger and Chris walked back to the hotel with us, and we had a teary good-bye with promises to email daily and to visit them in London soon. Chris and I had exchanged helmets on arrival in Pueblo, since mine had a sun visor and hers did not. (The sun would probably be brutal through the Great Plains of Kansas.) So, we had mementoes of each other to help us out until we met again.