The second time we cheated was just a few days ago when we were headed from Wall toward Rapid City. We were on I-90 (yes, *that* I-90 -- bikes are allowed on it out here) and after enjoying a wide shoulder for many miles, the road (er, interstate) narrowed considerably over the Cheyenne River. After contemplating whether it would be collasally stupid to cross on the shoulderless bridge as RVs and tractor tralers whizzed by, we backtracked to the rest stop a few hundred feet back, ran into a couple drving a large pick up, and asked if they'd mind schlepping us and our stuff over the river. (Okay, Aaron did all the talking. I just lingered in the background worrying that we were asking too much of complete strangers.) But, they obliged and wound up driving us about 10 miles to the next exit. They offered to take us all the way into Rapid City, but we declined.
So, all told, we've got about 20 cheater miles on record so far. Feel free to stop reading this blog now if you feel deceived. The other touring cyclists we've met seem fine with this occasional gap in the route. The people we met from the UK got a lift their first night of their trip when it became clear that the last five miles of their day were to be on a road made of deep, unpacked sand. The second pair of cyclists we met have gotten several lifts, including one from a restaurant to a campground due to food coma from giant burgers. But purists exist, apparently. I just haven't met any yet.
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Oh, puhleeze! Twenty miles? Doesn't count at all, Ms. Perfectionist! I was happy to see that your Kindle is letting some well-deserved misspellings slip through, but now you want to quibble about twenty miles?
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