Done is a four letter word. The four of us have four days here in Quito before our flight, but as for the biking, for the most part, we are done.
After celebrating with only products containing only sugar from a gas station and then changing in front of that gas station in to our, off the bike clothing; a firemans one piece jump suit, a summer dress that your grandma wouldn´t be caught dead in...acompanied in appropriate weather conditions by a sun umbrella, a punk rock pink mini skirt, and a david bowie haircut, we have had a little time to reflect on what our last week of biking has held.
So lets just say. Cats helmet was both stolen off of a table in front of a gas station by young men who fled the scene on a motorcycle, and returned to her by the more sympathetic young gentlemen who chased the culprites down on his motorcycle, after observing the crime, but with not a word from us. But how did you get them to give it back? Cat asked with tears in here eyes. I just told them that you needed it. That was all he ever said to us before or after, he just went and got it without a word and brought it back handing it to Cat punctuated with that simple explanation. Unfortunately no one has stolen the ringer , the name by which Cat has come to call her decoy theft mechanism which is a broken cell phone she found on the side of the road wrapped in a fraudulent hundred dollar bill she found on the floor of the bus. We dread, with such little time left, that no one will try rob us before we leave and thus give us the opportunity to deploy the ringer.
And lets just say that we slept in a pool.
And that after being interviewed by a local television reporter, who convinced us to sing Living on A Prayer on camera, his camera man asked if he could join us for the next days ride. And he and three of his biking friends dawning full gear and aluminum frames did the next morning, along with some locals on cruisers and two firefighters on a motorcycle, in the marvaled upon parade of two wheels that headed out of the small city that morning. They now have our spoke cards in there wheel sticks and we have a big place for them in our hearts, as so many other things mentioned about this trip, we made the necessary room for them there. It was as pleasing as cycling moments get, after being warned so much specifically of this particular stretch of road as very dangerous, to be accompanied on one of our most enjoyable rides by this group of bikers, from the oldest whom was in his fifties, to the youngest, fifteen who, refusing to be passed by girls with twenty pounds of crap on the back of their bikes, beat us up every hill, and beat Kate in a race more than once.
And lets just say there has been kareoke, and medical care, and meals, and beds, and music videos galore, and card games in which Rachel won all the money without understanding precisely what the peramiters of the game actually were, from firefighters in the midst of all this. The firefighters in Ecuador have been extra special.
We can leave it, emphasizing there presence in this last week of ours, at the morning of the day we arrived here, where, upon departing from the firestation rec room we slept in the night before, Rachel was gifted a red firemans one piece uniform due to her complimenting of it that previous night. It fits with room to grow. She wears it like there is official business to be had, riding her red bicycle around.
And she will be seen in it for these next four days, caught out of the corners of the eyes of the passers by, as we furiously have this city, take what there is for the taking for us four here, make the best there is to make for the forclosure of our months of fortitude, and try to make sure the ringer is the only thing available for the taking throughout our perils of constant forwarned danger and theft, for what it is worth.
