Friday, July 1: "Get in touch with your inner tube."

Friday, July 1, 2016: “Get in touch with your inner tube.”

Friday morning was cold and damp, so I walked up to the Inn for some hot oatmeal and a hot cup of tea for breakfast. Then I rode down to a great place just outside of Asheville on the French Broad River. It’s called Zen Tubing, and their motto is “Get in touch with your inner tube.” We tried it last year, but this year was even more fun because the water level was higher. We parked at their downstream headquarters, and they gave us a ride a few miles upstream, where we got our tubes and splashed into the river. It took about three hours to get back to the put-in place. I had stayed largely dry while floating downstream, but when I was getting out, I lost my balance and fell in the river, getting completely soaked. But I was dressed for it and only lost my dignity. The whole morning was lots of fun.
link to Zen Tubing Website

We had lunch as a Sonic Drive-In which is on my must-do list for Asheville. I love their orange cream slush—it’s like drinking a creamsicle. After lunch I stopped at an REI store to replace my REI travel pants, which split at the knees. Then I noticed that the amber lens of my front left turn signal was missing. A fellow biker directed me to the largest motorcycle shop in Asheville, but they didn’t have the part in stock. A helpful clerk there suggested I use amber tape as a temporary fix, and she even directed me to an auto parts store that had it.  It’s not beautiful, but it ought to do the trick until I can get back to Cape Cod.

Back at the campsite, I notices a man in a nearby campsite had a motorcycle in the back of his pickup truck. I watched him survey the surroundings, trying to figure out the best way to get the bike off the truck. After he turned the bike around and set up some ramps, I walked over and offered to help him. He said he just didn't want to end up as one of those You Tube "fails." "Let me get my camera," I joked. Together we rolled his bike down without incident. More bonding over motorcycles.

In the evening I had dinner at the inn again with Brandon and Poppy Kay. The soup of the day was split pea, and it was so good I had two cups of soup and a salad instead of an entrée.

The campground is full for the Fourth of July weekend, but it doesn’t feel crowded. The campsites are separated enough that we each have our separate spaces. Everyone exchanges friendly greetings when we pass. Everyone seems to appreciate the fact that we are celebrating America’s birthday in one of the most beautiful places in the country.  

Pee and Politics Part 2:

Before I forget, three more thoughts about “pee and politics in North Carolina.” (See my earlier rant.) Last night I heard two little girls as they passed by my campsite.

“Comfort station, but where is the bathroom?” asked one.

“Comfort station means bathroom,” explained the other.

“But how can you get comfortable in a bathroom?” ask the first.

Good point.

I was also reminded of the time Beth and I went to see the Dixie Chicks in concert last month at the Xfinity Center near Boston, a huge venue. At the end of the concert there was the typical huge line at the women’s room, but none at the men’s room. When I went into the men’s room I saw a line of men at the urinals on one side of the room, and a line of women using the stalls on the other side of the room. It seemed like a very reasonable solution, and I didn’t see anyone upset by it. And, finally, I saw a political button at Maliprop’s yesterday that summed up many people’s attitude about the bathroom law known as HB2. It said “HB2: Homophobic bullshit.”