Monday, October 28, 1996
Time out: 9:40 AM, temperature 82°.
This one actually beats out the worst of Montana for bad riding conditions. Once again, the problem is lack of shoulders. Where there are no shoulders and the traffic is intense, conflict between bicyclists and motorists is inevitable. I expected just this sort of problem in Florida. I didn't expect rudeness from a professional driver, yet at one point today, a semi driver intentionally swung his trailer to the right to cut me off. I had to hit my brakes for all I was worth just to keep from being sideswiped by the trailer. I was so preoccupied with survival that I didn't identify the truck line. It was an uphill segment with not even 1" of shoulder.
The traffic was constant. I waited for an opening and charged out as fast as I could. There wasn't room for oncoming traffic, traffic passing and me, so I took the lane. A group of motor homes ("Cruise America"--with Colorado plates) had been cutting awful close to me for a few miles and I didn't want to get hit, so I took the lane. As expected, the drivers became impatient and charged around me despite oncoming traffic. Just as the road was becoming separated from the oncoming lane to make a 4-lane divided highway, a semi passed me. He had no oncoming traffic to contend with and there was then plenty of room for him to get around me (and the road was becoming 4 lane in another 50'), but, he decided to show who was boss by cutting me off.
When I started out today, the road was excellent. I had used my Universal Map regional Florida maps to plot a course from Alachua down to US-27/41 to the west, rather than riding through Gainesville. Before I left the motel, I asked about the distance to Gainesville, thinking I'd like to get more sweatbands from a bike store. It seemed too far and the road too busy, so I decided not to go, but a man from Arkansas (near the infamous Whitewater subdivision) showed incredible generosity by offering to drive me to Gainesville, take me shopping and return me to the motel. I declined. As I said before, I am increasingly focused on finishing this marathon quickly.
So, I headed west for about a 1/2 mile to Hwy. 235a
and then south a few miles to to Hwy. 235, which angled southwest
to US-27/41 at Newberry. Even though there is no shoulder on the
Newberry - Archer segment, it is pretty and the traffic was relatively
light.
I stopped at Casey's Bar and Restaurant in Archer for lunch. I really didn't feel like a bar and wanted "fast food", but there was no other choice. The food was good.
By 12:30 it was 88° and I was starting to perspire heavily. 88° here is a lot hotter than it was in Fairbanks, Alberta, Montana or elsewhere. It is real humid here.
I reached 
Williston--haven't
I been here before? The claim to fame of this
Williston, is the fact that a horse was born here:
The horse won the 1975 Kentucky Derby.
At Williston, I reached a major fork in the road. I
chose to go left--US-27. 
Perhaps
I should have gone to the right. The traffic was light from Archer
to Williston. The only artery coming into Williston appeared to
be 41/27. I expected that splitting 41/27 into two separate roads
would result in even lower traffic flows for both. I was wrong.
As I headed south on 27, the traffic kept getting heavier. Initially,
there was a good 4-5' shoulder, so I felt I'd made the right choice.
At 1:20, it was 90° in the shade. I had to wipe myself repeatedly with my towel.
The shoulder vanished, it started becoming hilly, and the traffic intensified.
This is horse ranch country. I stopped whenever I could for Gatorade.
At one such stop, I got talking to
a couple of ranchers (father & son) who asked about my trip.
They bought Gatorade for themselves and paid for mine. They told
me that a man from this area rode his horse to Fairbanks. I remember
him and even took a photo of him on the Alaska Highway from my
helicopter (I'll try to find it and upload it when I get home).
[I'm still trying to find the picture from
the 80's in my jumble of old Alaska photos].
I experienced more and more trouble with the traffic. I had several unfriendly honks; mostly from tourists driving motor homes (one from a Michigan driver).
As I got to Ocala, I was riding on a major thoroughfare.
Between Ocala and Belleview, 27/441 was 7 lanes wide. It reminded
me of Telegraph or Woodward in Detroit--not the kind of street
one wants to ride a bicycle on. 
In
Belleview, a motorist (Scott) passed me and stopped at a parking
lot to wait for me and ask about my trip.
I was totally stressed out from driving in the heavy traffic, and actually felt relieved to calm down enough to talk to somebody. As usual when I am scared, I ride as hard as I can. I was riding about 18 mph when Scott stopped me. I relaxed for a couple of minutes talking to him and drank some Gatorade (I drank about 8 Gatorades today).
Then I took off again. I passed another operating Drive-In theater in Belleville. It was actually playing a current selection: "A Time to Kill" that night. I was surprised to see a "Drive-In, Gun & Pawn Shop" combination.
As I rode through Belleville, I passed a lot of motels, but I was intent on getting in some serious miles today, so decided to press on. At 4:49 I'd gone 72 miles. It appeared that I still had 20 miles to go, but I was flying: 19 mph. Daylight savings time was just eliminated, so I didn't have a feel for the time of sunset under standard time.
I felt certain there would be a motel at Lady Lake. There was, but it was for the exclusive use of folks interested in buying property in the planned community there. I stopped at a couple of political campaigners for the local Republican candidate for Congress. It turned out that the young men waving signs on the highway were actually dispatched there from Michigan by the Republican party and didn't even know where there was a motel. I wasted 10-15 minutes asking about motels, but ended up back on the road. I stopped at a convenience store and wasted another few minutes to find that there were no motels nearby.
Realizing that I needed to press on, I changed to my clear Oakleys. As it got even darker, I stopped at another convenience store to turn on my rear Vista light and connect my headlight (in case I'd need it). The road was 4 lanes, but there were NO shoulders and very heavy traffic at about 55 mph. By around 6:15, I made it to about 6 miles from Leesburg. It was pitch dark and there were no motels in sight. I was getting quite scared.
A pickup truck pulled over onto the grass in front of me, turned on their emergency flashers and waved me over. A retired couple (Ernie & Mary) from Key Largo offered me a ride to Leesburg in the back of their pickup. Once again, when I really needed help, it was there. I'm not foolish enough to ride in the dark on a high-speed shoulderless road in Florida. I accepted their offer and rode 6 miles in the back of their truck, with my front wheel (panniers and all) hanging over the tailgate. I then bought them dinner. I think they saved my life.
Congress needs to mandate that ALL federally funded highways have paved shoulders: 4' for roads <55 mph; 8' for roads >55 mph.
In the meantime, don't ride your bicycle on US-27/441 between Williston and Leesburg, Florida (or US-2 in Montana, or many other places). There's got to be a better way.
Total mileage today: 87 (not including the 6 miles in the back of a pick-up).
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© Ed Noonan 1996, 1997