Day one of the Tour De Cure is done. It’s been an interesting one, to say the least. It’s been a long day, and I’m not even riding a bike!

I began the adventure late last night with all the preparation that goes into programming my radios and GPS for the course route. I turned out the light close to midnight. Today began at o’dark thirty. I awoke at 5:30 and messed around before racing out the door at 6:30.

Whoa. It’s now 7:30 PM and I just saw the sun for the first time today. Wild.

Ok, where was I? Oh, yeah! I jumped in my car and was at Campbell University with plenty of time to spare. Anyone visibly out of shape there was probably another ham volunteer, so we met for a quick meeting to go over assignments and last-minute details.

My role today was as a SAG wagon. That’s “support-and-gear.” I spent the day driving back and forth along the course, providing transportation to riders who needed a lift. Along with my friend Janell Lovelace, who was here with Tanner and son Bram, I was told to station myself way down the course. This was to keep all the SAGs from bunching up at the start of the race.

The course is lined with directional signs which guide the riders. Due to the constant rain, these paper signs had basically dissolved, giving us some confusion as to where we were going. Janell and I picked our way up the course until we were sure we were at our assigned spot.

Only the directional signs were missing. The “century loop” which lets more hardcore riders tack on extra mileage, was completely unmarked. After circling around a few times, we confirmed that the signs were missing, not our common sense! I bought a magic marker from the corner convenience store and Janell took off along the loop, taping up signs to keep the race going.

About that time, I got handed a hammer from the other sign-posting team (not the ones who forgot to mark the loop). This was to be given to the loop guys, if they ever arrived.

Finally, they did get there, but were totally clueless about what to do. As they were volunteers like myself, I shrugged it off with a laugh and took on the task of showing them what to do. Only a handful of riders had gone by before the first signs were planted.

Having gotten that ball rolling, I took off down the loop in search of Janell. Not seeing her at the first turn, I parked myself there and made sure the first riders didn’t miss the sign she had taped up at the corner. With them safely on their way, I continued down the course.

Soon I encountered a large 2×6 board lying on the edge of the road inthe middle of a curve. It screamed “accident” to me, so I slammed on the brakes, causing the Clueless Signposters to nearly plow into me. The curve was tight there, so I knew I had to pull all the way off the road in order to clear that board safely.

I waved the Signposters on and backed into position. A split second later, I felt the right tires slip into the ditch.

Oops. I was stranded.

I sat there for a little while, feeding the mosquitoes and wondering how I could free myself without broadcasting my stupidity to the whole course using my ham radio. The board was almost perfect for jamming under the wheel for traction, but the right side was so low that it was impossible to get under the wheel. I sat and thought some more.

The net control on the radio to dispatch me to a rest stop. At that point, I swallowed my pride and cheerfully requested a tow rope. A long silence killed the radio chatter, as twenty hams laughed at my folly. Some help was promised, so I waited.

A group of 6-8 riders stopped to help push me. Try as they may, their only reward was to be coated in mud from my spinning tires. I thanked them profusely and sent them on. No luck, still stuck, as the children’s book says.

A deputy sheriff drove past, then returned and helpfully blocked traffic for me. At the same time, an older gentleman who looked to be a mechanic of some sort, went back home to grab a chain. It seemed I was free at last!

The older man returned and wasted no time in crawling under my car in search of a place to tow me. His chain wouldn’t fit in the bracket normally used for towing, so he tied it up on my left wheel strut. Big mistake! It got me out of the ditch, but my car wasn’t right after that.

I was driving the mile or so to the next rest stop when I noticed my car wasn’t steering right. The steering wheel was in left turn while the car was going relatively straight. It was also fishtailing a bit, which wasn’t good on the slick, wet roads. I also heard the tires chirping a bit as I pulled in. Thus, a few minutes after I declared myself back in commission, I was having doubts about that status.

I limped back along the course, looking for a garage. Before I found one, I came across a rider flagging me down. His riding partner was a few miles back with a flat tire and would need a lift to the rest stop. I couldn’t leave his buddy stranded, so I rode until I found him and then gave him an exciting ride back to the rest stop.

Then it was time to backtrack again in search of a garage. I got back to the store that sold me the magic marker and went through their phone book in search of towing companies and garages. The storekeeper thought to ask a customer to recommend a garage.

“Follow me,” he said. “I just came from one a quarter mile away!”

Sure enough, he did. We stopped at this nondescript garage tucked off the side of the road. A man named Bubbles VanCannon looked the car up and down. He’s a part-time mechanic who works on weekends to keep the neighborhood cars running. I was afraid I’d get taken to the cleaners by a local mechanic, but this guy proved me wrong in a big way.

It didn’t take long for him to see the problem. The strut used to pull my car out was nicely bent, causing my left rear wheel to point left. After a half hour of jacking, hammering, measuring, hammering, and measuring again, I was on my way. As for the price of his work, he suggested $20 but I gave him the $40 in my wallet, and I still owe him. I intend to get his name and number into the ham club’s newsletter as another way of saying thanks.

By now almost 90 minutes had gone by. After catching up to the crowd at Rest Stop Three, I checked back in and was sent back to the Century Loop Rest Stop to pick up gear. Thus, I got to drive by my favorite ditch a few more times before moving on. Yay.

It continued raining and riders were having some trouble keeping upright. I heard a call that some riders at a rest stop needed a lift to the finish line. I volunteered to take as many as I could. Since my car was loaded down with water cooler bottles and other stuff, I couldn’t promise many seats, but I’d do what I could.

A woman and her daughter took me up on my ride offer. I believe her name was Kathy, and her daughter’s name was Autumn. Thirteen-year-old Autumn had injured her knee on the course and was out for the day. I hauled their bikes onto the car and we set off for the finish line.

Along the way, we talked about the race and other things as we went. Kathy was kind enough to point out every ditch as we went, which we all got a kick out of. I enjoyed chatting with them, even if my attention was split between them, the road, and the radio chatter. As we arrived at the finish line, Kathy thanked me and laughed that she never wanted to need me again. Which was nice. 🙂 I saw her later this evening and said hello.

Once at the finish line, the organization that marked the communications all day broke down as people headed for dinner. Many were off the air when the last few riders made it to the FFA campgrounds at White Lake. Being one of the last hams to show up, I almost missed out on the spaghetti dinner.

I sat with my new ham buddies, Eric KE4OCN, Bill KC4CXY, and Al the Medic. I explained my ditch story a few times and we critiqued the day’s operations a bit. Unlike the last tour I worked, I took advantage of my opportunities to meet these people whose voices I’d known for so long. I’m glad I did because we got along great!

I’m now in my motel room blogging. It’s nearly nine o’clock. I have no room phone, but gentle waves are lapping ten feet away from me. And earlier I saw a beautiful sunset out my window. I hope to get some good sleep and be raring to go for the second leg of this event. It will be good to say hello to the ocean again, too: the first time in a long while that I’ve been there.

Its off to Buies Creek early tomorrow morning for the start of the Tour De Cure. I’ll be incommunicado for most of this weekend.

Y’all have fun. See you Sunday night.

Kelly had an agent bring a woman over to see the house yesterday. They spent well over an hour looking the house over! Did the crawlspace, the workshop. The whole bit. The woman asked right off the bat if there had been lots of interest. And when she saw Kelly again, she said she was taking so long because she was figuring out where to put her furniture!

Later, we went to see a house we’ve been interested in. Until today, we didn’t know it was already under contract with another buyer. Still, we spent some good time walking around and checking it out. Hallie seemed to love climbing up and down the stairs. Its a shame that we’ll probably not get a shot at buying it, though.

I’m thinking there will probably be a gap between when we sell our home and when we buy our new one. Kelly and I are kicking around what we might do if this happens. Hopefully, it won’t be an issue, but if it is, I suppose we’ll be living in an apartment for a time.

It’s tough having so many things open-ended, but we’ve got to be flexible in the near future.

Well, I finally got fed up with finding my office birdfeeder in pieces when I come in in the morning. Thus, I led a team of commandos (me, Vann, and Greg) to booby-trap the feeder. Taking a can of shortening with me, I improvised a crude spatula out of a paper plate and lathered the top of the feeder with a thick layer of shortening.

The trap was set. All that was left to do was wait.

First thing this morning, I saw signs of success! The feeder was still intact on the window, but all around the window were splotches of flung shortening! The feeder top has nice squirrelly skid marks down the sides, indicating a squirrel or two went skiing when it decided to attack my feeder.

I’m not close to declaring the war won, but I won a nice battle here. It’ll be interesting to see how the squirrels choose to escalate the conflict now. Stay tuned!

So I was chasing the Kid around the house tonight when I spied two pickup trucks parked outside. Their owners were standing behind one of the trucks, looking across the street at our house.

I thought “hmm, wonder what they’re doing there.” Then I felt pretty thick when I realized that the younger man was the one who brought his family over to see the house last night. He had told us he might bring his father over to look at the house.

Turns out that’s what he did. He and his old man stood and gawked at the house a full ten minutes or more, all from the street. I didn’t stare back, but every time I checked on them I saw big grins on their faces.

This house is soooo sold.
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We had two seperate buyers tour the home tonight. The first was a family who currently lives a 1/4 mile away. They were looking for a single-floor house since they were in their 40’s and (gasp!) “getting old.” They brought their two kids with them.

Literally within ten minutes, they were back outside, gushing and smiling. The man asked us about the closing process: surely a good sign! I think it shows that we’ve already sold the home to them on the emotional level, now we’ve got to iron out the details and sell it to them financially. Very encouraging!

The next buyer had quite a different approach. He brought a friend along and both of them spent a good twenty minutes or more going over all of the house. It was obvious he was carefully checking everything out, though he was careful not to let his enthusiasm show. Kelly had learned earlier that he recently had to bow out of a house he was building because the builder’s price had risen steeply. Thus, he had reason to be a bit more cautious.

Afterward, he remarked at how beautiful the back yard is. He’s got a point! It has never looked better, with the azaleas in full bloom and the grass neatly cut. Since he lives in an apartment now, I’m sure he has an even greater appreciation for a nice yard. It’s one feature of our house that has to be seen to appreciate, I think.

He definitely has interest. As he stated, he wouldn’t have spent so much time on it if he didn’t like what he saw. After he had gone outside, we saw him standing in the front yard looking admiringly at the house from the outside. A few minutes later, Kelly saw him drive by the house again, giving it one more look.

Both of these buyers seem quite interested. I’m really not sure which one (if any) might make an offer first. Kelly and I agree that the family seems more likely to jump. But, since they have a home they own already that they’d have to sell, they might not have the money readily available. We’ll see what happens.

Our home showed beautifully both times. It has never looked better. Kelly and I made the home look so welcoming that you would have thought we’d done this hundreds of times before.

Then there’s the fact that the house is just attractive to begin with. It’s got a big-ass helping of curb appeal that makes people want to stop and check it out. When they see the inside, I think that just seals the deal.

We’re certainly having fun with this, and – up to this point at least – things are going extremely well. The tricky part will come during the “closing dance,” where price negotiations and paperwork will play a big role. With that part, we’ll go with professionals, either through a closing lawyer or one of the a-la-carte packages some realtors offer. This will boost the price we’ve paid to sell it, but so far we’re out $20 for signs and fliers. Not too shabby!

Kelly just called and told me that another potential buyer wants to look at the house this evening! That’s two in one evening. Woot!

This process could take months. Or we could be homeless by the end of April. Who knows? The good news is that this process is going much easier than either of us expected.

So why is it that tomato always follows lettuce when you’re ordering a sandwich? When the preparer asks you “lettuce?,” you can bet that next out of her mouth will be “tomato?”

Why is that? Why does the tomato, the most incredible of vegetable-like fruits, that which bursts with Southern summertime savoryness, have to follow the lowly lettuce? I mean, its enough to give tomatoes a serious inferiority complex, one so mightily undeserved.

To help right this wrong, next time try ordering tomato and then lettuce when you buy your next sandwich. You may confuse the lady behind the counter, but you’ll be giving top billing to its rightful owner: the tomato!

My coworker Greg and I were discussing his upcoming “cross country” flight to the Outer Banks. He mentioned flying near a CIA base in the area. It took me a while, but I eventually recalled reading about such a base on Paul Freeman’s Abandonded and Little-Known Airfields page.

Its funny how CIA bases which “don’t officially exist” can have such publicity on the web. For instance, The Independent Weekly did a cover story on Harvey Point two years ago. As did the New York Times in 1998. Freeman has a nice picture of the 4,000 foot airstrip which doesn’t exist, not appearing on any sectional chart or map. That runway is in great shape for not existing, don’t you think?

Apparently, the base is used as “terrorism school” for foreign and domestic intelligence operatives. It chills me to think what might be taught there. As you can see by this recounting by the Independent Weekly, the base isn’t exactly used for Boy Scout summer camp. It isn’t a stretch to imagine Osama Bin Laden being trained there in the early 80’s, back when he was Our Man In Afghanistan.