Three years ago, I rode my bike from Tallahassee to Gainesville for my 45-year high school reunion. Since it's 160 miles by bike (145 by car but I added a few miles for interest), I stopped in Mayo overnight. You can look it up ... amazingly, there's a decent motel in Mayo.

But on the first day, going through Perry, I suffered a blowout on my rear tire. Tread separation ... looked like a manufacturing defect. I have touring experience, so I know to carry a spare tire. But when I went 'bent (some years after my last long tour), "spare tire" became plural, and I convinced myself I didn't really need spare tires.

Well, there's no LBS in Perry. Wal-mart had 26x1-1/4 tires but I needed a 26x1.25. Was glad I knew the difference. I managed to patch up the tire enough to limp the remaining 30 miles to Mayo, but I could only put about 30 psi or less in the tire or it would bulge and threaten to blow again. I pulled into Mayo after 9:00.

Next morning I got started about 10:00, but hadn't gone a couple of miles when I started hearing the chunk-chunk-chunk that meant the tire was bulging again. Spent about an hour by the side of the road stuffing it with pieces of tire, duct tape, twisted underwear, old nylon hose ... I even considered putting a hose clamp around the tire and rim for reinforcement. (Some people say you can fix anything with duct tape. I say man cannot live on duct tape alone; he also needs hose clamps and cable ties.) I limped on, now with less than 20 psi in the tire.

I had mapped out a route using a country road that parallels the highway, which has a good paved shoulder but is hot and boring. Came to a junction for which I had no notes and had not saved a waypoint. (I use my GPSr as a speedometer/odometer.) I took the turn away from the highway because I remembered there were connectors back to the highway (which I didn't want) and did not remember any roads turning away. I trusted my judgement even though I could hear people talking outside a house nearby.

You can probably guess how that turned out.

It was nearly an hour before I admitted that I was going the wrong way. I retraced back to the wrong turn. Now there were only a couple of people outside the house. A boy noticed me and called out that he liked my bike. (I get of a lot of that on a bent.) I asked which way to Branford, and a woman on the porch confirmed that I'd been riding "into the swamp".

This was only late April, but it was hot. (Four days later, on my way home on April 30, Tallahassee had an all time record high for the month of April.) For a short time there was a nice bike trail around the south side of Branford, but going east it turned into an obstacle course and I had to revert to the highway shoulder. That was after fixing another flat, this one unrelated to the blowout. But path and highway had equally full sun. Past Ichetucknee Springs, the path got better. It was dark by the time I got to Alachua -- I'd been averaging 6 mph (stops included) rather than my usual 8 mph, and had added about ten miles by my misadventure. I had good lights and would have ridden the remaining 10-12 miles, but I was worried that if the tire went totally bad, I might not have cell phone reception. I called my sister, who picked me up in Alachua. (She lives in Gainesville, in the house we grew up in.)

The next day, I bought a replacement tire and a spare tire for my rear wheel, and a spare tire for my front.

The return trip was hot but thankfully otherwise uneventful. I had spare tires but was happy not to need them.

So why the long story? To say that next time I'll ask for directions when I have a chance, before I get out into the middle of the swamp.

Edward

I learned long ago that people can often give wrong or unintelligible directions sometimes. Going miles out of your way in a car is not so bad. On a bike it can be bad. I use a GPS.

This whole thread has been great. I had to ask directions in Woolmarket, MS 2 weeks ago. I'm going to buy a new Garmin 810 and have my wife read this thread if she questions the wisdom of my purchase. I thought about the 1000, but decided to not press my luck.

When I need directions, I ask the closest women ---> Siri

I don't stop to ask directions. It's kind of a thing with me.

The one time I did ask for directions, we were mountain biking in the Wisconsin northwoods in October, we got lost, like idiots we had no lights, maps or compass, cloudy so no sun and it was getting dark, snow flurries were starting and we were lightly dressed. When a black bear passed in just in front of us and the wolves and coyotes were starting to howl, we thought it best to get some directions. Of course there were few to no homes to stop at.

Maybe one of these days, I'll learn.

J.

I was on a motorcycle, but as a referee in a bicycle race. I had to leap ahead to set-up medical control (drug testing). I somehow was directed off course by a cop. He either didn't understand or didn't believe I was part of the race. Anyway, I didn't know how to get to the finish. I stopped and asked a couple sitting on a porch how to get where I had to be, Killington Ski Resort. There answer "you are no where near there". I ended up with directions to the start and back tracked. Got there just in time to set-up medical control as the field finished behind me.

Am low tech. Yes, have asked for directions a couple times since is started riding in the early 1970s.

In Boston, we do not give directions in terms of Tim Horton's, whatever that is. We use Dunkin Donuts. Example: Follow Comm ave, past two Dunkin Donuts. Turn right on Mass Ave, and continue
past a third Dunkin Donuts on the right. Turn left on Harrison Ave, just past Dunkin Donuts, and you'll arrive at Boston Medical center. See?

Now, as for asking for directions, you all know that doing so is a violation of man law, and it simply something we just don't do.

Before living in Maryland, I lived in Alabama. A friend of mine told me her directions to a particular house included "turn left at the pregnant cow."

I thought the above was a typo. What's the difference between 1.25 and 1-1/4?

And yes, an interesting experience that could have benefited from asking for directions.

You should know about Sheldon Brown by now.

Edward

In the past? I decline to answer that question. Nowadays, I can push a button and ask, "Siri, where am I?" Or maybe, "Where's the nearest McDonald's?"

Sorry for laughing about this one, I keep flashing back to the "Big Bang Theory" episode where Raj gets his new iphone. Developing a relationship with a voice........

Bill

And its region dependent... I always remember asking for some directions in NYC. The guy looked at me like I had insulted him and said, "What am I --your tour guide? Get out a here"

I have had good folks give me cold bottles of water and one lady went to her car and gave me a map.

New York? Shouldn't that be "GETOUTTAHERE!"?

I'm just crap on directions. I used to pack lots of map segments for every ride assuming I'd get dropped someplace far from home. Having said that, I've never asked for directions. It's not a guy thing or anything, it's just that I enjoy riding and figure if I'm not dead, I can keep riding until I recognize something. I do more hiking now and it's pretty much the same thing, only when I'm in the mountains I carry a DeLorme Inreach 2-way satellite communicator. I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid.

Asking for directions is an example of how we all want to follow truth and rule out what is not.