First two days of kneebutt pain.

Strathmore to Brooks, 137km.

I left my glasses at a stop along the highway. I cycled through 4 hours of rain. I opened beans with a can opener I didn't know still existed. After a couple of hours, I got used to the 65lbs load and could guide John Galt down the shoulders of highway 1.
Knees: without pain.
Ass: pretty tender.
Mental efforts towards loss of sunnies: 8 minutes.

Brooks to Medicine Hat, 112km.

I slept just off the highway last night, hidden in tall damp grass. Semis woke me up before the sun, and I began an early start. 2 km later, I leaned my bike next to some guard rails and sat along side the road in my sleeping bag until the sun started working harder. Almost continuous headwinds, one menthol cigarette and approaching 80km/h fully loaded, I made it to Starbucks to plan tonight's campout.
Knees: need new bearings.
Ass: less painful than yesterday.

Calgary to Montreal: Clipped in a clipless pedal.

I'm cycling to Montreal.

Let us break up this sentence into a bit more detail:

I, me, myself, neatly wrapped in a sack of skin, have been uncomfortable sinking into my black hole of a bed. I have been rather uncomfortable waiting for a new mental diagnoses each time my doctor decided to stop by the psych ward*. I have been slightly uncomfortable being with people who blame what they do on love, with a twisted definition I don't use.

Cycling, with two wheels holding up what was named a Trek 520. Along with my 190lb dainty frame, John Galt will be sporting a rear and front rack each supporting two panniers, one handlebar bag, and all that I have deemed necessary for the 4000km journey. Photos to come after John Galt is dressed.

To is just a preposition.

Montreal: A place I will dive into head-first, from learning the tongue to mapping the best minds in the city.

I used to think a trillion trillion was the biggest number in the world. Do you have the brain space for this number?

http://waitbutwhy.com/2014/11/1000000-grahams-number.html

ps. I'm open to challenge propositions for the cycle.

Taking a Deeper Look

*Thoughts related to the last three posts, and my experiences last night/early morning.

Looking back as to why I was held responsible for covering the fee of 7000 Indian Rupees to the police can be easily traced back to what seems to be an openly corrupt state. While I nor my soon to be attackers were in no way harming anyone by being on the streets at midnight, the police saw an often practiced opportunity to, through the use of force, extract some paper. After attaining human connection with one of the officers beyond who he becomes wearing his tan attire, I was told to go home, and up the road I managed to hitch a ride the full 4kms.

Whether or not this officer had the foresight, these mid-twenties boys could not afford to pay the fee to release the impounded scooter; they could not ask their families assumedly for financial reasons, fear, and probably both; they did not want to "steal" the money as humans are moral creatures; the easiest step they saw was to convince themselves I was the demon who caused these problems (I'm sure there is already an evil god in Hinduism named Jayden). They acted simply as they had been taught: it is moral to use force to achieve an end. They were prepared to beat me with stones, and threaten the family that was hosting me. If I were to continually resist, they were capable of going through all the motions eventually reaching murder (and at a much faster rate in their intoxicated state). If sadism can be quantified, I wouldn't label them as extremists, as I noticed many times morality and reason would cross their minds, to the point even through poor communication, they would begin to walk away but shortly after a cognitive dissonance would arise, and the crazed look of desperation took over their brutalized psyches.

I could have easily fled Kochi, but that thought instantly brings up the threatened family I mistakenly dragged into the problem. I went to an atm, and paid the fine.

"That India is a dangerous country" you say, "I'm so glad I live in country x, this would never happen in MY country." Following a longer set of steps, what happens if you don't pay your taxes?

A Few More Important Details

The man who lives here, and who is trying to calm the assailants down, is going to the hospital in 24 hours to pass a kidney stone, has two sons in their young teens, and doesn't have the energy at 5:30am to shoo away the ruffians. I will have to pay Baksheesh to these gents, for they will only cause more issues. Right now they are discussing the bribe.

Part 3

The family came and knocked on my door, and after 5 hesitant minutes decided to answer. They have told me to stay in the room tomorrow for the full day, and would go to the police station and sort this out.

I still went out to find my cord.

Fists of Fury and his sidekick are still outside.

I have my cord,

Updated, LIVE!

They are at my door now knocking away. This might cost me some money. I still want my cord, and will have to leave Fort Kochi very very soon. It's 5am. How long can I outlast them?

The 5 D's of Dodgeball, and Why You Shouldn't Visit India Without Them

After finishing lonely Canelloni in Fort Kochi's Art Cafe, I took off to the beach to have an ice cream and a coconut. A random opportunity approached to go for a spin on a random gent's scooter. He owns a clothing shop in the tourist section of Fort Kochi, but apparently didn't own the scooter. We went out, I purchased some off-sale beers on a promise we were great friends, and he would of course return the deed Stopping off at many large groups that after a couple minutes of banter became J's "best friends". After rolling about 10 cigarettes to give our large group of friends, it was time to head back to the homestay. 5 minutes too late. The police arrived with many questions, and failed to recognize my driver's license as a valid ID in India. This is important for the police to believe, as they can now confiscate the scooter, following some made up law (all laws are made up) that those types of scooters are not allowed after a certain time, or something as equally ridiculous.

A bit more communication leads to one of the men in a sandy brown suit telling me to go home, so I started to walk what was going to be a 4km run/jog/hide back to my homestay. A man on a 150cc sport bike drives past me slowly, stopping 50m ahead to take a better look. I asked for a lift, and we raced through the empty streets, managing to stay ahead of bright jeep lights. Safe and sound at the homestay, lucky me.

Unfortunately for me, J and I left on his scooter after the beach to drop off some of my valuables at the homestay, and his memory still served him after he had claimed many times it was failing him because he drank so much. I popped out of my room still high on adrenaline to cool down, and heard some loud voices walking down the driveway to mi casa. I tried to calm them down so we could discuss what had happened, and found that they wanted me to come to the police station with them to get back the scooter. After I had left, the police drove their scooter to the station. I was in no mood to leave with the loose cannons who both stumblingly threw a few punches my way, only hitting my chest. His English wasn't great, and my Hindi/Malayalam isn't that great either, so his next step after changing from "friends" to "fists of fury" was to pick up a rather large rock, at which point I decided to sprint up the stairs to my room, dropping my headphone cord on the way.

I've been in here for a couple of hours, and the yelling subsided perhaps 20 minutes ago.

I really want to get my cord.