I am getting worse and worse at starting at a fitting hour in the morning. When we hook ourselves with Cynthia up to coffee and chatter, we are at it for hours… I leave *some* time before 1pm which, yes, will still get me to Pueblo but not necessarily in a dry state. The peculiarity of weather in this corner of America are afternoon monsoons. Therefore, I better ride fast or get wet.
The road itself is just an assembly of roller coasters reminiscent of the Rockies I am leaving behind. A sought-after break for my tired quads…
I hit Pueblo the moment it starts to rain. Someone suggests I look up the pastor of a local church. Well, he’s not around but his neighbour, Dave, turns out to be a pastor too: at a Mennonite congregation. He offers to put me up for the night and says I’m a good excuse to order pizza (sounds good to me!). Brenda, his wife, pops out to get some groceries and brings home my favourite ice-cream (caramel).
I’m in heaven.