Friends are so alarming
My lovers never charming
Lifes just a cocktail party on the street
Big apple
People dressed in plastic bags
Directing traffic
Some kind of fashion
Shattered

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At 3:30 on Sunday morning at Mass Maritime, it sounded like someone was standing outside the dorm heaving  buckets of water at our window.  The rain was relentless.  Oh well, so much for a 4:30 am  start. We closed our eyes for another half hour and then packed it up, resigning ourselves to a day of riding in the rain. We’d get to P-town no doubt about that, but at a much slower pace than the day before.

After taking my broken luggage to the medic to be wrapped in Saran Wrap for transport, getting some breakfast, and searching in vain for a cup of tea, we set off over the Bourne bridge.  It’s tough going up the Bourne bridge as it is a very steep climb and we are only given 1/2 a lane to ride in, so it’s difficult to pass the slower riders whose gears are getting jammed from the incline.  But to me that wasn’t as scary as riding down the other side with slick roads and squeaky breaks–which I clamped tightly until the ground leveled out.  Once that was done, though, we pretty much stayed ahead of the rain throughout the cape, riding with a comfortably overcast sky and occasional drizzle. The hills in Barnstable and again in Truro were tough but completely manageable. The roads were quite slick though as was the white line on the shoulder.  Many riders hit that line, and went down, their tires slipping right out from under them.  Susan and I were lucky to not be involved in any of  these accidents, but we saw quite a few and heard stories of many more…like Doug Lyons’ excursion as he road over some woman who went down and then flipped over his handlebars (he was fine), or the pediatric surgeon who wiped out and needed an ambulance but was also able to diagnose his own injuries.

We reached P-town with much hoopla from the fans, showered in the horrific tent made from tarps and cold piped in water, ate some food and drank some Harpoon. And the skies opened up again.  It was then I promised Susan we would not be late for the  3 o’clock party boat to Boston (like last year) and that we would leave in plenty of time to get a dry seat on the lower deck of the ship, preferably near the bar.

“But first let’s have one more beer.”

At some point, the people we were talking to, who had a reservation on the 4 o’clock ferry, asked, “Ummm, why are you still here?”

It seemed everyone else was gone.  So we donned garbage bags and matching hats (Susan’s gift to me on Friday was a hat that I had admired on her) and we ran, through the rain and puddles, through the streets of P-Town.  At one point taking off our shoes, thinking it was easier to run barefoot (it wasn’t).

The whole time Susan was saying things like,”You promised me…..”  and  “I’m too old for this…..” and “Why did you say we could have another beer?”

To which I answered…..”Why did you listen to me?   Don’t ever, ever listen to me when it comes to anything regarding being responsible….ever.”

But we made it to the boat with 2 whole minutes to spare and Susan asked this guy to take our picture and as he did told us that looking at us reminded him of the Rolling Stones….and so we danced…happy to be dry, and done.