The shit has hit the fan...in the middle of nowhere.

Day 34
Distance traveled: 5.2 miles (Yes I know...me too)
Time in saddle: 24 mins
Overall distance: 3031 miles

I slept in the wood last night, about twenty metres from the roadway. It was pretty hot all night and I was restless. I was worried about my tyres. I suspect that I will have to get some new ones once I get to a large town which has a bike shop.
I woke up at the crack of Dawn and got things organised. I put away my tent and changed the inner tube in my tyre. Everything is always wet in the morning because of the morning dew. I will have to dry my tent out the first chance I get. I never know when I might need it next.
I thoroughly checked the tyre, inside and out....nothing. The tyre is looking in a terrible state, the sides are fraying and I need to change it quickly.
I started to cycle and it was OK, although I wasn't confident. A few miles down the road it happened again. I stopped and changed the inner tube again...my last one. As I cycled off once more it went flat again. To say I was frustrated is an understatement...I just wanted to ride. To be honest I nearly cried...but what would that do. I used a nearby stream to check where the puncture was and was in the process of changing the tyre once more, I envisaged walking to the next town, twenty miles away, when a car pulled up in front of me. I am not religious but I sometimes think that when you are really out on a limb and in desperate need of help that someone is sent to help. That someone was a guy called Paul Shapiro (Sorry if the surname is incorrectly spelled) A lawyer from Philadelphia and a fellow cyclist. He asked me if I was OK and I nearly hugged him. He offered me a lift to a town with a bike shop. He had a cycle carrier in his boot so I packed all my things and off we went. He had cycled across America twenty years ago so he knew what I was up against. Ironically he had a mechanical problem when he did his trip, a buckled wheel and like me was in the middle of nowhere. Out of the blue a cycle truck, which carried cycles for a local race showed up and he was sorted....maybe it's his way of paying back the favour.
The first town was about twenty five miles away, it was called Lewistown. It had a bike shop but wouldn't be open until Monday afternoon. We decided to travel onto Harrisburgh, the state capital another thirty five miles away. It was a city so the chances of more bike shops was obvious. It was a total of about eighty miles away from where I spent last night. Approximately a days ride away. I was gutted that that I had to get a lift but I had no choice. I was stuck in the middle of nowhere and it would have taken me days to walk the distance to the next bike shop. The only saving grace is that I will have to cycle to Gibraltar from the airport in Malaga, Spain. The exact distance I travelled today. That is not officaially part of my ride, it was just a way of getting there. Now it will be an opportunity to make amends.
Once I get the two new tyres and inner tubes I will be able to cycle once more with confidence. To be honest I have cycled over three thousand miles and I am surprised it has gone so well. I feel like that guy in the film 'The Perfect Storm' when they decide to eventually go home a massive wave appears on the horizon. The guy says "It doesn't want to let us go home" I understand how he feels.
Harrisburgh is the state capital and a lovely city but on Sunday everything closes. Just my luck to have this problem on a Sunday. I can't find a shop open anywhere in the centre of town. I went to a bar and ordered some food, which was lovely. A guy obviously worse for wear was shouting across the street. Why is it only cities have these people. They are entertaining but very sad.
I'm going to take my bike to the shop tomorrow morning and get everything fixed. I wonder what will happen next?