Metal Scrap Man-Day 9 of my solo bike ride across South America

When I mentioned previously, that the roads I was taking would rattle out the bolts of my bike-I thought I was joking. Alas, as I pedaled through the wide open country this morning, crossing over a 50 mile stretch of just me, the dry fields that cover this area and a good strong headwind, I heard a “KABLAM” and was lurched to a sudden stop. My back rack that holds two panniers, my tent and my chair had sheared free and fallen heavily behind me, like a bike emergency brake.
I hauled myself off the road and assessed the situation. The bolts holding the rack to the bike were gone. Sheared? Unwound? Well-I needed a fix. I unloaded my gear and set about using parachute cord to secure the rack back in place. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself when truck full of scrap metal slowed and stopped beside me. It rolled off the road onto the grassy margin with its front wheel wiggling, its tail end dragging and a terrible looseness to all its joints. It was hard to tell where the scrap metal started and the truck ended.

I inwardly groaned. “Alright,” I thought “Who are going to be these characters.” Out of the truck bounded a man, perhaps a little older than me and presumably his teenage son.
They cheerfully surrounded my bike-which was now fixed-and hemmed and hawed about how to help. In the end they added a wire from their truck to the parachute cord tie-not really necessary.

“Okay,” grinned the father, “a dollar for our help?” I just laughed, because they didn’t really help me at all, and then they laughed. We tried to speak and pantomime to each other, but it was pretty futile. In the end, the father offered me a cigarette, and we took pictures and exchanged Facebook information.

I slogged onward until I reached Valliguay, where I am staying tonight. I went first to the town square to get my bearings. As I sat on a bench, another man approached me with a huge cup of ice and a liter of soda. “For you.” Is all I could understand from him. He was a bit snaggle-toothed and didn’t seem to have much. I couldn’t believe there wasn’t a hitch-but there wasn’t.

Now I am sitting in a plush hotel. Freshly showered. I intend to spend the afternoon going over every link, bolt and spoke of my bicycle and tightening everything I can, then when it cools off, I will go out on the town and see what people get up to in these parts on a Saturday night. My guess is a lot.

Last night my camping neighbors were all up at two, smoking, coughing, throwing up and laughing-good fun.