G.A.S.P.

I left Lynchburg in beautiful weather (4-8), but knew that it was supposed to get real ugly by afternoon.  Real ugly came to get me while I was having lunch at the Lovingston Café (recommended by Bill and Laurie and now by me).  When I came out, it was sprinkling, then it rained hard, then let up a bit.  I decided I couldn’t stay there all day under their porch roof, so I headed for Charlottesville, still 32 miles away.  It rained hard all the way to Charlottesville.  By the time I got there, the miserability index was at least as high as that awful day I rode into Traverse City, Michigan last May.  My hands were so cold that I couldn’t even open my pannier (for you non-bicyclists, that’s a saddlebag, not fancy French biking underwear) to see if I had a discount coupon for the Super 8 Motel.  My feet were so cold that it took five minutes in the bathtub before they began to tingle.  Yuck – that’s all I’m going to say about today.  Yuck, yuck, yuck!