Day 27 Vidalia to Savannah, GA. 105 miles. 3.2 feet of climbing (okay, maybe a couple hundred!). I'll do my best not to make this a "tome", but as I write this with one day's retrospect, MANY things bubble/pop/slosh in my head. Let me walk the dog backwards just a bit. First, I am humbled by the accomplishment of the task (27 days, 2900 miles) and the lifetime friendships collected along the way. Some many wonderful people pushing themselves while providing encouragement and help to the whole team from start to finish. As I pedaled along lightly for the first miles I looked straight ahead, staying focused on the task at hand, but my thoughts and prayers went straight up with gratitude for this fantastic opportunity, along with blessings aimed at DA and Mary Ellen (DA in Afghanistan), Adam and Sara, and of course my phenomenal wife, Arlene. The enormity of this event has helped me realize once again about what is really important in my life. But I digress . . . again. Friday started early with a 5:30 alarm for breakfast at 6:00 am and load at 6:45. I think every bag and bike was camped out at the van at 6:30 (except mine), as the riders were chomping at the bit to get rolling. So by loading at 6:45 am, I was already 10-15 minutes behind the group. In my haste, I failed a major checklist item--I didn't "sign in" after remembering for 26 days! Oh well, I tossed my bags on the van and rolled out of the parking lot expecting a quiet 100+ miles. I wore my over boots and carried my rain jacket since the skies looked ominous. I caught the big group in about 15 minutes and all 12 of us rolled along at a comfortable pace. I followed Reverend Scott and Animator, Tom. As the pace accelerated slightly, I decided to drop the second 5 of us back a bit, to keep us from bunching up and increasing the safety of all of us. With just 90 miles remaining, it only made sense to build in a little added safety. We all rolled into the rest stop, that was actually moved closer for us by about 3 miles. When we all arrived, Mike, our leader, was doing a recon of the local area to provide a reroute, based on some road construction. While we finished up the last of the RC colas and Moon Pies, Mike painted some turn cues on the ground with spray paint that essentially was a box pattern around the construction. About 5 miles after we left the rest stop, the rain started coming down briskly so we pulled over on the side of the road and donned our rain gear. With a flat as a pancake road, and a nice shoulder much of the way, we all bantered and told our last stories to one another. It looked like we'd just roll our way to the beach after pushing and struggling much of the previous 2850 miles. The irony over the coming miles was palpable! First, however, I smiled as we passed an inconspicuous, smallish sign that said, "Welcome to Savannah". We were near, we were here, we were close to the end of this sojourn. After a couple folks gave us head fakes as they split off for nature breaks and ATM breaks, I ended up following our mechanic, Jim, who was riding all the way from Vidalia to Savannah. Five of us followed Jim down a few wrong turns as we thought we were closing on the beach. No problem, since Jim has been on this trip a few times before and he has a Garmin GPS. In fact, four of the five folks I was riding with had those nifty Garmins. When we all missed Mapmaker Lane, Jim just waived us forward and said that "Johnny Mercer Drive" would get us there, thank you very much. And two bonus miles later, Jim was exactly right! Just as we reconnected with Highway 80, the main drag to our destination, Tybee Island Beach, Jim leaned over and said, ". . . the next 6.5 miles is REALLY dangerous." I looked him in the eye and decided to motor down the long, busy Highway 80 solo. This 2-lane road is the, repeat THE artery to Tybee beach, island, pier, main street, etc. Everybody in Georgia is using this road on Friday afternoon to get to the beach. Picture this from left to right: there is 1) your lane 2) the white line 3) rumble strip 4) slim piece of asphalt that is sometimes covered with grass. Our only real choice was to ride near the white line in the lane. In my humble opinion, this was the most dangerous 6 miles of the 2900, an unexpected event. Nevertheless, the road eventually opened up as we rolled into the the town of Tybee and I was never happier to spot the landmark "Chevron Station on the left and Post Office Parking lot on the right." I breathed a huge sigh of relief. A few minutes later, Arlene called and said she was following 3-4 ABB riders. I relayed this infor to Barb who was tracking the progress of one and all, since Mike was struggling to account for us over the last hour. Slowly but surely we all found the rendezvous point, had a snack or two and a drink and eventually formed up for some photos. At the appointed time, we rolled on down the road for the final 2 miles to the beach, following Mike and Karen's directions. Friends and family met us at the wooden bridge walkup next to the Tybee pier: Tom's mother, Steve's sister and friend, Ron's wife, and of course, Arlene. Many of the locals walked toward us and curiously asked about our efforts and kindly praised our accomplishments. The warm sun and breeze and the soft sand made the walk to the water surreal. We smiled and smiled and smiled, hugging one another, raising our bikes over our heads, and posing for photos with the front wheel dipping in the water, symbolizing the end of ride from Pacific to Atlantic. Kari took the bottle of Pacific water that I collected in California and poured it into the Atlantic, another ride tradition. There was a bubble of "satisfaction" surrounding every one of us and I'll relish this moment for many years to come. With the ceremony complete, we hauled our bikes back to the sidewalk, washed the sand off, and proceeded back to the rendezvous point a couple miles down the main drag in Tybee. I followed Mark and had Greg behind me. About a mile down the road, I watched Mark, about 10 yards in front of me, make an abrupt swerve to the left, and then I saw the red truck door swinging in front of me! Yes, only 1 mile from the end, the hazards persisted. Fortunately, I too swerved left and missed that last chance at injury by about 6 inches. From the beginning I've been saying that even 1 second of inattention can get one hurt over 2900 miles, and here was just another example to validate my theory. At the Post Office parking lot, I grabbed my bags off the back of the trailer and put them and "Clyde" into the back of Arlene's car. Terry rode with us as we followed the van one last time to the hotel in downtown Savannah. Greg graciously volunteered to let me shower and Arlene clean up in his room at the hotel. That shower felt absolutely wonderful and it was so nice to put on a clean shirt and dress shorts once again. Simple pleasures indeed. We then headed downstairs and camped out next to the bar and let the bartender, Jennifer, spoil us with drinks (alcoholic and non-alcoholic) and peta chips for the next couple hours. Slowly but surely, most of our team ended up relaxing in the over-sized stuffed leather chairs, sharing our remembera

nces of what had transpired over the previous 2 days. Martin, Jonielle, Terry, Peter, Mark, Greg, Scott and Tom all regaled us with their observations of biking across America. Scott introduced his two partners and their wives from Vero Beach, FL. Scott and his two buddies will proceed to Vero Beach (400 miles) on Saturday, followed by the wives in the support vehicle. This will complete Scott's "Bike for Hunger" trek, culminating in him raising in excess of $50,000. Tom won the award for "most weight lost" as he held his jeans with both hands until he found the perfect $2 belt at a nearby Goodwill store. I recommend that belt eventually make its way into the ABB Hall of Fame! As 7 pm approached, we squared the bar bill wit Jennifer and walked the block south to the Moon River Brewing Company for dinner. With friends and family all around, we enjoyed some great conversation at dinner, getting to know Tom's Mom, Joanne (83 yr old golfer/tennis player), and Ron's lovely wife, Melanie, mother of 3, assisting her daughter with editing her dissertation on National Energy Policy and National Security. But I digress yet again . . . Great conversation, dinner and fellowship with one and all. And although Tom somehow "waived" our table's dessert rights, I staged a coup and reclaimed said rights: chocolate cake and cheese cake for all my friends! We left the restaurant about 9:00 pm and headed back to the hotel for the presentation of our ride completion certificates and words from the staff and each rider. Mike, Barbara, Karen and Jim all offered kind, caring remarks, each echoing their pleasure at helping us achieve a "dream", a "bucket list item" or "goal." Amen my friends, amen. As Mike presented the certificates, he offered each rider the chance to share their thoughts. I've never heard more heartfelt, honest, succinct and inspired words from a group. Just as each rider demonstrated professionalism and consideration on the road with me and each other, I watched with amazement how each did same, same in their remarks. These are unique individuals with huge personal differences, but unbelievably similar drives and motivations. Mike tied the final bow around the event and then we exchanged personal hugs and thanks around the room. The finality of the evening hit me right between the eyes! It was over, really over. And about 30 seconds later, I headed back up to Greg's room to pick up our bags and Arlene and I headed to the car for the next event . . . Kelli's wedding in Huntsville, AL! We drove about 8 hours with a stop or two, arrived at Huntsville way beyond tired and slept like rocks. The ride was really over. Stay healthy, Steve