I awoke to rain and wet roads. Another late start wouldn’t get me where I needed to be down the road by the end of the day.

So for that reason and others, I decided that the bike ride was over. I had enough of bad roads, bad food, bad TV, and cheap whiskey. I didn’t see one interesting or remarkable thing in the 2 weeks or 800 miles. The Mackinaw Bridge was shrouded in fog so I was denied even that.

I rented a car, loaded up my bike and drove the remaining 300 miles in 6 hours.

Regrets? Sure. It is sometimes hard to quit but maybe the lesson is that sometimes you’re further ahead when you do.

And for a fool’s distinction, I am probably the only person who stuck with Ohio’s Hwy. 23 and biked it from beginning to end.

The only upside was that for a few brief shining days I found my monster biking self which emerged to propel me effortlessly down the highway. And out of anyone it could have been, it was that self that I most wanted to meet again.

And for that I will always be grateful for having done this trip.