At www.biketrip.qball.org there should be lots of pictures up in the coming days from the whole trip (they're 2 from our last day attached to this e-mail), so check out the site if you're interested.
The great Trans Am bike trip came to an end a week ago Sunday when we arrived at the shores of Yorktown, Virginia. Of course, as we soon discovered, these shores were not of the ocean variety but rather belonged to a river that flowed into a bay that flowed into the Atlantic. But I think we were all too worn out to care. The last week went by fast, as it had become a typical day for us to ride 80-90 miles, so we made great time and even finished earlier than expected.
Virginia was one of my favorite states, as being the resident history nerd of the group (Ken Reidy, you'd be proud), I liked seeing the old towns, buildings, and country churches from two or more centuries ago (and as anyone who's been to Europe will tell you, our architectural history is relatively short compared with that of most other countries, but in Spokane we consider the Davenport Hotel to be a historical treasure, and it only dates back to the 20's). Surprisingly, Virginia was one of the cooler and wetter states, which meant that the early August extreme heat and humidity we expected to battle was practically non-existant. We did, however, have lots of rain, especially in the Appalachians, where downpours combined with narrow, broken roads and muddy shoulders to make it feel at times as if we were more sloughing rather than riding our way through the mountains.
On names and naming: When the trip began, I had no idea how fortunate we'd be to ride through so many towns of such high acclaim. Walden, Colorado, for example, turned out to be the moose-spotting capital of Colorado, while Cassoday, Kansas, announced on its city sign that it is the prarie chicken capital of the world. Unlike most fly-fisherman, didn't realize that Ennis, Montana is home to the largest hand-tied fly in the world, and there must be at least a good handful of circus performers who travel each year to Everton, Missouri for the Annual Clown Festival. Chester, Illinois, pulls a double-whammy for being home to both the official Popeye Fan Club as well as the home of the Popeye creator and every real person from which the characters of the popular cartoon are based.
Food, too, was a source of pride for many towns, and apparently it's steep competition to whip up a good meal in the northwest, as many a restaurant laid claim to having the "best pizza in Oregon" or the "best hamburger in Idaho." 
We ate at the lone store/deli in the 800 person town of Olney Springs, Colorado not only because it was the only place to go within a 50 mile radius but because it held the title (suspiciously self-awarded) of having the "best sandwhiches on the prarie" ("Our sign doesn't lie," insisted the store owner as she made my grilled cheese on wheat, which, I have to admit, was better than average).
This being a big election year, it was only natural that politics would also come into play when thinking of names. Dan Meade and I paid greater attention to the heated local campaigns of the Kentuckian Appalachians once we saw Charlie Meade was running for state senate out of Floyd County, and Dan showed his support for a fellow Meade by removing a "Vote Meade" sign from a tree to take back to Seattle (surely to help win Charlie the Starbucks vote). 
Things got funny, though, when we saw Charlie Meade's opponent was known (even on his official campaign signs) as "Little Shag," and I have to say, as much as I like the Meade moniker, I think Little Shag wins in the name-recognition category hands down.
With the trip completed, the Drums headed to Richmond with their relatives while Dan and I went up to Washington, DC where Dan's sister Heather got us into the Democratic Party headquarters to meet the party chairman, Terry McAuliffe, which makes my grandmother very happy (Heather--you and Kerry have the Iowan Swinton vote wrapped up). Soon will take our biker beards and scrawny bodies (by the end, we looked like mere wisps of our former selves) in different directions: Danny, back to Bend to make a fortune off his bicycle knowledge, allowing him to conduct medical investigation into the intricacies of the calf muscle; Harly, to Montana to study business and girls, in no particular order; and Dan Meade, to Seattle, where he'll spearhead a research effort into finding a cure for athlete's hand. As for myself, I'm in Spokane for a few days, where, besides celebrating a birthday and practicing writing impromptu poetry (so as to better my performance next time I'm at Stetson's in DC), the only things on my daily agenda involve the words living room couch and all-you-can-eat buffet. On Sunday I bolt (note: not Boalt) back to DC to start my transition into becoming a Hoya Lawya, and if that doesn't pan out, I've already got a headstart on becoming a Hobo Lawyer.
Here's a rundown of the Bike Trip, by the numbers:
| 4,000+ | number of miles we biked in total |
| 10 | number of states we biked through |
| 56 | number of days it took us to ride |
| 6 | number of rest days, counting half days, etc |
| 80 | average number of miles per day (not counting rest days) |
| 2 | number of days into the trip I discovered my speedometer was miscalculating mileage |
| 54 | number of days I rode with my speedometer miscalculating mileage, opting to do math in my head rather than take 5 minutes to fix the speedometer |
| 195 | most miles ridden in a day |
| 90 | percent of trip we had to follow a designated route in order to register our names with the Adventure Cycling company |
| 89.99992 | percent of the trip Harly and Danny followed the designated route, due to detours in Wyoming, Kansas, Kentucky, and Virginia |
| 1-800-GET DRUM | phone number for toll-free watchdog hotline to call to alert Adventure Cycling company of falsified bike trip reporting |
| 4 | number of objects/liquids we had thrown at us (beer cans at Harly, coffee at Dan Meade, and a firework and water balloon at me) |
| 3 |  number of times a very exhausted Dan Meade fell asleep at the end of lunch either in mid-bite or while holding some sort of food |
| 1 | number of times I thought I was missing my bike helmet when I was in fact wearing it |
| 1/2 | number of days I wished I wasn't spending my summer biking (it was a rough morning, but all in all, I'm really happy with how things turned out) |
Thanks for all your support for our trip!
-Nate