Bikes Across Borders is riding a bicycle from Austin to a needier locale and donating it. Our trip this year is to Monterrey, and I'm playing catch-up. The main, 30-odd group left yesterday morning, but I had a football game to pedicab, drive during which I find out my license is suspended to attempt, and court date for an eviction to appear at. All are completed with reasonable success and behind schedule, so it's ~4:30 before Sarah and I are on our way out of Austin.
It's a long ~60 miles, chilly twisting roads mostly in the dark. Panniers are awkward even after cutting my packing list in half twice, making my bike want to zigzag rather than straight-line. Speaking of which, my steed is definitely more plus than minus: the 80s-era Specialized Crossroads I'm piloting came to me via Craigslist hundreds if not 1,000+ miles ago. She's been such a good girl that she'll get to retire to Mexico. If, of course, her warped rims, worn sprockets, damn near dysfunctional derailleurs, and all but foam-free seat stay together in a vaguely-roadworthy fashion.
At least 40 of the 60 miles are pitch-dark. The 4 hours of sleep last night were inadequate, and I nearly cry upon seeing white letters on green "Seguin 13" indicating double-digit more miles than I think I have the patience for.
But, we survive to reach a kind lady's house in downtown Seguin at ~12:30. The barista at a coffee shop, she's kindly crazy enough to have opened her yard to Bikes Across Borders last year and again. Damn near begging, I score a nice warm spot on her living room floor, stretch the adrenaline energy away, mummify myself in synthetic sleeping bag warmth, and drift away.