Derek Jennings
Ride with Me

In 1976 Bicyclists from around the world took part in a 4,250 mile journey across the United States of America to celebrate Bicentennial Year

Experience an account of 42 days on a bicycle from Readsport Oregon to Yorktown Virginia

Wednesday 28th July
Jamestown, Virginia

Up at 6am in an attempt to catch up with the diary which I have neglected for two days. Spoke to a Yorkshireman today on the site who was on a home holiday, had breakfast with him and his wife and family outside the tent. They were in search of a place here to emigrate. Went for a swim in the James River afterwards having already swum in the camp pool the night before. I spent the rest of the morning looking around Jamestown. History very discreetly presented in Williamsburg, Jamestown and Yorktown, lots of tourists about, but no sense of being crowded. The commercialism is carried out very tastefully.

Rode back to Williamsburg in the late afternoon and had ice cream on the Merchants Square with 3 Dutch riders and later met Leo Niessen another Dutchman who I’d previously spoken to at Burford school Charlottesville. Took myself off for a celebration steak, french fries, garlic bread, tossed salad and coffee, 3 dollars 50 cents. Just managed to get back to Camp Chicohominy before a terrific thunderstorm broke, the rain lasted all through the night practically.

Thursday 29th July
Yorktown, Virginia

Now that I’m here ahead of schedule I’m giving lots of thought to getting home earlier. It would seem that because it’s doubtful if British Airways will change my charter flight date my best plan would be to use a few days riding the bike to New York and visiting Washington en route, instead of using the Greyhound Bus to get there as I intended. I’ll locate my employers the “Daily Mail” at their New York office and maybe they can use their influence to get me a flight. Said my goodbyes at the trailhead and left it in a very muddy condition after a nights rain. Think I’ll make my way to Sterling and Marion Anderson’s place for the night and clean myself up ready for Washington and N.Y. Just resting now on the steps of St. Peters Episcopalian church where George Washington was supposedly married. The weather started off very cloudy and dull, but also warm and humid.

It’s now however very sunny and twice as hot and humid. Arrived at Sterlings place at 3.15pm but no one was at home which gave me time in the garden to make a few adjustments to the bike and tidy up my baggage. Went down to Marion’s fathers place when Sterling came home, and stayed and talked with him until about 9pm. Turned in around 10.45 and was very thankful for a comfortable bed and all the civilised facilities to keep clean and tidy, “bodily and bikewise”.

Friday 30th July
Mechanicsville, Virginia

Up at 6.45am, it was very warm, Breakfasted with Sterling and Marion and left at 8 after trying to phone Helen at Sterlings invitation. No reply again which was a disappointment to say the least, must be on holiday I suppose? This will be the last time I shall say goodbye here, it was very nice, I felt comfortable, and they were a extremely pleasant couple. They had celebrated their 20th wedding anniversary the day before yesterday.

Made my way to Hanover, posted a card to Bobby Thom and on to Bowling Green and Port Royal for a hot cake breakfast/lunch at 12. In the afternoon crossing the Potomac river bridge I was stopped by a police patrol car at the beginning and told I could not ride across. The policeman went over and brought back a breakdown truck and drove me across. The bridge was 2 miles long and built in 1941. On to La Plata for a late picnic lunch at 3 then on into Washington. The traffic got heavy about 12 miles from the city. Had trouble finding the Youth Hostel that I’d been told about, but managed to find the right 16th Street (there’s more than one!) at about 6.45.

Went for a meal at Scholls Colonial Cafeteria and back to the hostel for a shower and a clean up. Managed to find time to do a spot of washing, write the diary and have a chat to Carey Shakespeare, a young Englishman travelling America for 10 weeks. Now in his 8th week he told me how he had led AMERICA to believe he was a descendant of WILLIAM, and most believed him! He gave me a brochure about the Washington tour bus which I think I will use tomorrow. I also chatted to the Dutch bike couple that were in Williamsburg on Wednesday, they’ve now shown up here. They call this an International Youth Hostel and it really is. Quite a representative crowd here and the house is fairly comfortable. Off to bed at 11.15 with a days sightseeing to look forward to tomorrow.

Saturday 31st July
Washington

Got up at 7am and breakfasted with the Dutch couple. Chatted to a family who had ridden from Washington Seattle to here, although not with Bikecentennial. Walked down to the White House and bought a Tourmobile ticket and spent the day visiting the Air & Space museum (part of the Smithsonian Inst), Capital building, National Visitor Centre at Union Station, Jefferson memorial, Abraham Lincoln memorial, Washington memorial showing an orientation film, and the White House. I was aware all the time how much Helen and Bob would love all this and what a shame it was that I was not able to share it all with them.

I am indeed lucky to have been able to experience all this as an added bonus on top of successfully crossing the whole country. Took lots of pictures and thought the Capitol city was a very attractive place to visit. Plenty of space and not overcrowded, with many tourist attractions. Once again like Williamsburg, tastefully done. Ate in the evening at Scholls Colonial Cafeteria again and went to bed early. All this sightseeing is more tiring than the bike riding.

Sunday 1st August
Washington

Rose at 6.45am and after a cereal and toast breakfast was away from the hostel by 8am. Met the Dutchman again, (never did find out his name) having an early morning ride around Washington. Said goodbye to him and gave him my card, made my way out of the city with the intention of getting to Philadelphia if possible! It took ages to find my way to Route 1 and I ended up back outside Union Station after riding what seemed like miles. Managed it in the second attempt and made for Baltimore some 30 odd miles away. Didn’t seem to get on very fast, it was a 2 lane dual carriageway all the way, traffic lights were endless.

Didn’t get out the other side of Baltimore until 11.45am and dived in for the usual “stodge up”. It was about 12.20 when I finished that and about a mile up the road I passed a sign that read Philadelphia 92 miles. My heart sank as it was the only place I knew where I could get a bed. The Phily Y.M.C.A. gave facilities to Y.H.A. members. Still there was nothing I could do about it but press on and see what happened. To make matters worse I had just, a while previously broken a spoke in the back wheel. Was now riding on Route 40 which was, as far as I knew going in the direction of Phily but my map ended at Wilmington.

I wasn’t sure what the real picture was, but problems came earlier than I thought. After lunching at a 7-11 grocery just outside of Aberdeen about 2.15 I came across another of these confounded bridges. This one over the Susquehanna river prohibited bicycles. Just couldn’t face going back and messing about getting a lift, so took a chance and kept going. Half way across a State patrol car going the other way, turned and followed me and just as I reached the toll gate, came from behind and stopped me. I was given a notice of violation ticket and a State map and advised to call at the State police barracks up the road and seek advice about a bicycle route into Phily. This I did but they seemed as vague as I did when it came to bike riders problems, (“by bike, you need an air ticket Man”) was the remark I got.

Decided to follow Route 13 just after State road into Wilmington and hoped that it carried on into Phily. Stopped for some water and a peanut butter sandwich at 5pm with still some 40 miles to do, but now thinking in terms of making Phily before dark, provided I didn’t come across any more bridges or tunnels. Found my way through Wilmington O.K. after routing my way around a tunnel, but the traffic and the roads were now becoming frightening. The traffic was not very tolerant and passed within inches and the width of some junctions were vast and you wasn’t sure whether you were going to end up on a freeway, which I was banned from.

Eventually got to Phil International Airport which was a heartening sight, my heart jumped a beat when I saw a British Airways plane taking off. It sank almost immediately when in front of me I saw another perishing bridge! The last 12 miles had been along the banks of the Delaware river which was lined continuously with oil refineries and a rather sleezy coloured community at Chester. I rode onto the bridge without seeing any prohibition notices and rode over thankfully but slowly. The road was atrocious 6-10ft out from the edge was potholed/coach bolt strewn rail-road crossings. Finally arrived in Philidelphia at 7pm, and found the City Hall only to be confronted with closed roads and a parade in progress in connection with the 41st Eucharistic Congress. The city centre was like any conventional American city with very tall buildings rising from each side of the street and this Congress parade just about completed the picture. Pity I didn’t have a flash on the camera.

The crowds of people and police surrounding the City Hall completely blocked access to the YMCA building so I had to walk my bike to get there. Was greeted with the news on entering that no longer did they offer special rates to YHA members and it would cost me 9 dollars 75 cents for a room. Still, I was glad of a secure place of any sort, so I settled for that. Quickly washed and changed and got out for a meal by 9. The parade was just about ending as I came out of the cafe at 9.40, so I watched the tail end of that and back to the “Y” to write the diary and bed.

What with the 120-130 miles today, a police ticket, and the traumatic approach and arrival in Philadelphia. I feel mentally and physically exhausted! and just a little apprehensive about what tomorrows journey into New York is going to bring. I’ve got my bike up into my room on the 11th floor but haven’t done anything about that broken spoke yet, that will have to wait. The time now is 11.45pm.

Monday August 2nd
Philadelphia

Rose at 6.45am, mended the spoke, but did not bother with breakfast. Left the YMCA at 8.40. Took a picture of City Hall, waited for the visitors centre to open and picked up a map which will still only get me through Pennsylvania. Went to see the Liberty bell and the Queens bell (rung at 11 and 3 each day) and made off from the city about 10am. Out to Route 1 and the same old trouble started, endless traffic lights. Got to Penndel before managing to get my first food of the morning at 11.30.

Then to Trenton by 1pm after dodging another toll bridge at Morrisville. Lost my way getting back on Route 1 and punctured. Repairs completed with difficulty at 2 o’clock (after trying to repair the tube, I finally had to change it). Picked up a New Jersey map at Trenton visitors centre and was told that Route 1 would take me into New York with no problems and I could cross the water by ferries. At Edison I was feeling a bit hungry and thirsty and went in a diner for a meal. Thought I would have it now instead of this evening, didn’t come out of there until about 4.30. Soon after this the signs appeared for Statten Island on Route 440 so I blindly followed!, hoping it meant both a ferry and a bridge.

Reached the bridge at 5 and on enquiring about the ferry found out there was not one! Now what do I do? Couldn’t find a P.A. phone so I hitched a lift. A young fellow and a girl stopped in a van, and just as I had put my bike in the back, a State Police patrol car drew up behind and told the driver to drive over the bridge and stop. He had no means of identification, tax or insurance, so I really had dropped him in it. The port police on the other side searched the van (maybe looking for drugs?) and took him away to get his documents. I’m not sure if he has any that are valid! They examined my identity documents and told me I was free to go. On enquiring about the route into New York by bike the Police said (“By bike, – you want a plane ticket man!!!”

Made my way across Statten Island (17 miles) by a minor road where there was evidently a ferry over to New York. Asked the way from a couple of builders just after the bridge and they wanted to stop and talk about the ride and England. Two comical chaps (just like one at a garage, who I asked the way round the bridge this morning), one of them gave me a buck for a coffee! The road across the island was terrible and shook me to pieces, bad surface and lots of traffic lights again. Got there at 7 just in time to see the ferry leave. Got on the next one and enquired where the boat docked, thinking it would be Brooklyn, which would mean facing the problem of getting across a bridge to Manhatten, but my luck was in!, it went straight to Manhatten.

Off the boat and through the Bowery and up 3rd Avenue to 42nd Street and Park Avenue. Tried to find the students centre/YHA with no success and spoke to an Englishman who passed (or he spoke to me I should say!) He was the President of Courtaulds North America Inc. I believe (that’s what his card says). He took me to Grand Central Station to the Enquiry desk and they gave me the address of the YMCA which is the best they could do. Said cheerio to the President and thanked him (he invited me to call him at lunch time tomorrow if I was in need. Went straight to the “Y”, it was now dark by the way, and got a bed there for the night for 8 dollars 50c, and once again was thankful of it, after another frustrating day and the prospect of roaming notorious New York in search of a bed! Washed, took a quick snack, diary writing and bed at 11.45 again.

Found the International Press building is not far from here, I’ll call in tomorrow and track down the Daily Mail office. That buck the builder gave me was the only money I had after paying for my room, and with 50 cents change was enough to get me a snack and milk for breakfast before turning in, will have to cash my last travellers cheque tomorrow. Need a new watch strap, mine broke today.

Tuesday August 3rd
New York

Got up at 7am and had a cereal breakfast in my room and used up all the food I’d been carrying, reckon I won’t have to worry about that problem any more! Checked out of the “Y” and went to the information centre for a street map. Found out where the American Youth Hostel was and rode there. It was downtown but didn’t open until 10. Went in the cafe opposite and had an egg and toast breakfast, found out that the Y.H. was in fact a YMCA but on the West side and not the one I stayed in on the East. It offered special rates to YHA members (5 dollars a night).

On the way back to the city I called at the Texaco Touring service and picked up another map to find the way to Kennedy Airport, was advised what bridge to take over to Long Island should I decide to bike out. Found the Daily Mail offices and met Jane Gaskell. Lunched in the office and phoned British Airways, who told me there was little hope of getting home early so I used the office phone to phone Helen (she and Fleet Street would want to know what my plans were). What a thrill that was!, I almost choked with emotion as I got the first few words out.

Left the office about 2.30 with a promise to call them tomorrow, and went for a ride round to get my bearings, although by now I was beginning to find my way around quite well, and could recognise quite a few landmarks. Riding in Central Park I punctured both tyres so had to walk back to the “Y”. That proved interesting as I walked down 5th Ave and soaked up the atmosphere past the Rockafeller Centre, St. Patricks Cathedral, Empire State Building, and Madison Square Garden. On the way to the Park I’d stopped outside the U.N. Building, and whilst sorting out all the currently collected names and addresses I read the card that a chap gave me this morning who spoke to me for quite a while in the Texaco place. To my surprise the name on the card was Sir Fredrick Harvey-Bathurst!

Mended both my punctures when I got back, in comparative comfort as I could keep my bike in my room on the 3rd floor. Went out for a meal (spaghetti) and back to diary writing and an early night. I expect I shall spend tomorrow taking a few pictures and out to see New York by night before I leave, I expect that will mean a walk around Times Square in the evening. The roads in the city centre are surprisingly bad, the surface is littered with bumps and cracks and massive holes. All occur 10ft away from the curb which is a real menace. Plenty of bike riders in the city, none of them conform to the rules of the road, passing traffic lights on red and riding the wrong way up one way streets, and the police don’t seem to take any notice. This really is a crazy place, its atmosphere and attractions are fantastic as long as you can overcome the insecurity.

Wednesday 4th August
New York

Didn’t wake until almost 9 o’clock, got out by quarter to ten and went to the U.N. building for a picture, found the flags were not flying because the President of Madagascar had died. On the way to Central Park I punctured again, mended it and decided to go back to the “Y” and change the tyre, took pictures of St. Patricks Cathedral and Rockafeller centre on the way. Shod with a better tyre I went to the Daily Mail office as it was getting near lunchtime. Jane was busy, made an appointment for 2.30 and went for lunch. Came out of the restaurant to a flat tyre, walked it back to the D M office only to find Jane had gone out and left a message for me to phone at 5. Walked back to the “Y” and discovered I had left my pump on the floor when I had tried to fix my flat out side the D M office. Went back to find it had gone, so it was round to Conrads Bike shop for a new one.

By the time I got back to the “Y” it was 6 o’clock and I spent the next few hours patching up my only two spare tubes. The back one was giving me trouble, leaking around the valve. Time now for that walk round Times Square. Grabbed a bite to eat that I promised myself then back to diary writing and bed. I phoned Jane but she wasn’t there, I also tried Irwin Burger and Pat Sullivan (two guys I’d met at Ashland who lived here) but there was no reply from either of them. The city by night takes on a more seemy side, the characters and environment a little undesirable to say the least.