Day 6 : Kennett Square, PA to Manchester, CT
246 miles
I slept well, but am still miserably sleep-deprived. That’s just the nature of this record. Highway 1 into Philadelphia during the pre-dawn rush hour traffic is not a good place to be riding under the prohibitive influence of sleep deprivation. The speeding cars quickly bring me to attention, by necessity. On the North side of Philly ,I am treated to a 14-lane road along which the traffic flows at a perfect 25-35mph between stoplights. I lane split, weave, dodge, sprint, and only occasionally am forced to a stop at lights. It is easily the most fun, although dangerous, riding of this trip.
Philly bleeds into New Jersey, which means I have the unfortunate experience of riding the Brunswick Turnpike. It’s wickedly fast with smooth pavement, few stoplights, and lots of tailwind, but it’s downright ugly. To me, Jersey is just New York City sprawl. Orange, Elizabeth, Newark, all blend into one mess of fading industrial cities, run-down blocks, and marathon strip malls. Whenever possible, I ride on the freeway because there are no traffic lights, but as I near New York City, the road becomes too dangerous for bikes. Riding between exits is safe since there is a wide shoulder, but crossing through the merging traffic at interchanges is nerve-racking. Nobody is looking for a bike on these roads.
The George Washington Bridge takes me into the city, straight to the Bronx. I used to hate New York City, but there is an undeniable energy in the streets that I cannot help but love. The rules of traffic are essentially nonexistent to cyclists of NYC. When in Rome, I do as the Romans do, and have a lot of fun in the process.
The City seems to go forever. The Connecticut border is but a line in the sand; buildings keep going and going. Stamford, Bridgeport, and finally New Haven. For hours, I sit in traffic, growing frustrated with my lack of efficient progress. Congestion is, unfortunately, a–if not THE–defining feature of this route.
I ride with a dirt bike gang through New Haven. My speed surprises them, and they give me nods of respect as we deftly move through the traffic as one unit. I’m thrilled to be in New Haven, not at all because I actually want to be in New Haven, but rather because it marks the end of the development that has swamped me since Richmond, Virginia.
Northwest Connecticut surprises me with its rolling hills, quaint towns, and carefree vibe. A place shaped by generations of wealth and prestige, the New York City Effect is still on full display over a hundred miles away. But it’s impossible to deny that the large houses nestled between amicable forests and undulating fields are attractive. The road is an enjoyable ride for the first time since leaving Key West.
I plan on pushing through the night tomorrow to ride the last 560 miles in one large push, so I think it prudent to sleep in a hotel room and, for the first time on this trip, enjoy a solid night of sleep. My Achilles gives me immense pain the last several hours of my ride. The prospect of sleeping straight on the ground without a pad is not enticing.
