"Get in the car fast or we're all gonna die!" yelled the cabby. Ed obliged. He had spent two of the seven miles of the Seven Mile Bridge walking his bike, and as the sun set over the Atlantic, the alternative - continuing to walk a bridge out of a place called Marathon - was less appealing.
Before today, we had six flat tires. We nearly tied that mark today, tallying five, including two by Charlie within five minutes of each other; we await the Guiness Book response. The day also saw the following let downs: shredded tire (Charlie), arrival at Dolphin Research Center fifteen minutes too late, and plans to snorkle, the air from which slowly hissed out with each piece of shard metal sucked in like a vacuum by our tires.
Still, there were positives: watching iquanas scamper away from our bikes, watching Ed eat a fountain-sized bowl of beef stroganof, and the prospect of snorkeling tomorrow morning before we finish the final 30 miles to Key West. Before we depart tomorrow, however, Ed needs a new tube, and my bike needs to stop chirping like a nest of newborn robins. I guess it's only fitting that the last 100 miles be particularly sweaty.
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