7. Momentary lapse of reason

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Just over a week has past and everything has already become routine, for instance waking up in the bushes alongside the road in a large city. This morning is strangely peaceful because I have slept to 8am. A rare luxury on this kind of journey. It is my intention to reach London by night and a flat tire is my only current hinderance. I retrieve my bike and once again buy a single tire tube, having the utmost faith that surely this one will not go flat.
The simplest route appears to once again be the A5 and I take it despite the fact that it is impossible to bike. After a few hours of struggling to make headway I give up with it and this 2 lane highway catches my eye. Why not take this road? In fact it has a large lane on the left hand side that is completely unused. So I soon find myself hesitantly merging on the M1 highway on my bike. To me it is just another road, but it is the equivelant of biking down the side of the 401 in Ontario. It doesn't take long for me to realize how utterly stupid I'm being as driver after driver honks his horn at me. Since going back would be even worse I decide to get off at the absolute closest exit. Within a few minutes I hear a horn but this time from close behind, and it is none other than the police. "What the hell are you doing on Motorway!" the officer yells, " I'm terribly sorry sir, It was an accident and i'm desperately trying to get off". He calms down a bit and assumes I'm not from around here as no local would be this stupid. He instructs me to climb over the fence at the next overpass. Obliging without question I bike as fast as i can to the next overpass while they follow closely behind and continue watching me until I throw my bike over the fence. The relief is undescribeable and I feel like I'm flying the millenium falcon out of the exploding deathstar. If there was someone else with me this would almost be funny, but by myself it's just depressing.
The backroads are almost pointless and it is nearly midnight before St. Albans is reached. Although not London, St Albans is close enough for me. Immediately upon entering town I pick my sleeping spot for the night, once again right near a traffic circle. This spot is much closer to the road than before, however the beauty of the spot is that it is a grove of thistle bushes. Most people wouldn't be caught dead near that many thistles but that is the allure, complete privacy. I slide myself almost right into the middle with the protection of my sleeping bag and feel much safer than anyone should sleeping this close to the road. Falling asleep I convince myself that once in London there will cheap hostels a plenty and this will be the last time I sleep outside.

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Comments

[I hate Ronaldo]

Your blog is very Interesting reading. Look forward to reading the next stage.