14th March 2012 Chicago - New York (Day 4 in the saddle)

We wake early and BFGUL advises that he's not going to overdo it at the breakfast counter this morning as he's still digesting his Hoaggie and the half of my family size calzone or (Joe Calzagi in a pasty as its referred to). He comes back to the table with 6 egg mini omelettes and a mountain of sausage patties all dripping in a mix of ketchup and yellow mustard so as to provide a gravy of sorts. He piles through it at pace in between hasty phone calls back to his agent in Pencoed who's Birthday it is.

We are all ready to go by 6.30am leaving Pittsburgh in the RV to get to some quieter roads.

Teddy and I are on our bikes and at first it feels a bit chilly particularly on the decent's. The joy of downhill riding is all too soon forgotten and the first long slow climb of the day begins. During the first leg near a town called Portage I call the support team to advise them on directions. I get a load of yeahh, yeahh, yeahhs from Munchkin Mono Brow Jones. After 10 or so hot climbing miles  up towards the crest of the Great Eastern Continental Divide Teddy is asking "where are the boys then", then the mobile in my jersey starts ringing. "Uhhuhhh, uhhhhuhh we've taken a wrong turn but we think we're on the right road now and we'll come find you".

We take a break and then it's back on it. It's sweltering but we have a downhill section and then more hills... We're both in pain and suffering.

We climb through some hillbilly areas with some real oddballs looking on at us and me wearing a pink TFC jersey. The big man try's to read a sign in a window of a shack but can only read the first part which says TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. "what does the second part say he asks". "SURVIVORS WILL BE SODOMISED" I Reply. I then add that I have visions of F troop getting in to trouble in a place like this that we passed through earlier and the pair of them having to reason their way out of a situation with BFGUL nervously hrrggh, hrrgghing and avoiding all eye contact and NIK NAK whittering on nonsensical yeah yeah yeah's to some big nasty mountain dude and his hound which has him wetting himself nearly while trying to cycle up a killer hill.

We do another few 10 mile legs and meet shaggy and scooby in the time machine near an old property in New Grenada where we have 10 mins break and take some photos.

We're back on again and our second climb of the day. The name of the road should have been an early warning "Broad Top Mountain Rd". It was hell.

We stopped for some food at a gas station and did another couple of legs towards Gettysburg but not before BFGUL decided we should call Aunty Fran and do an impromptu 4 part harmonising acapella Happy Birthday on load speaker. Not sure again what the locals made of us but at least Lyndon refrained from giving it the jazz hands and a big finish.

We then hit a busy road and had to jump into the van for a few miles. Uncle Lyndon was at the helm and seemed to have morphed in to Mr Sulu from Star Trek and seemed to insist on driving our lumbering wobbling RV at warp speed through all the twisty turns he could find, it was truly terrifying.

We cycled into Gettysburg to the area and memorial where the first artillery was fired from it was quite spectacular.

Then it was onto Harrisburg for the night. We followed the un-trustworthy Sat Nav that Chris had given to us. The Geth had programmed it and we followed all the way into another 'hod'. What appeared to be 'business ladies' hanging on street corners and more dodgy fellas looking at us in our still shinny RV with smiley kids on the side...no sign of any comfort inns. We pulled over and tried ringing but no luck, we were starting to sweat...

We decided to drive back pass the ladies and fellas and ask at somewhere safe. We found a cop and he gave us some directions which thankfully got us home safely.

Not sure what we're doing for food but there's no pool or jacuzzi so it's queue time for the shower and listen to the various grunts and groans from behind the door while you wait your turn.

Pork Pie