Gig Harbor Washington to Bar Harbor Maine 2001

The Road to Malta
to the tune of Folsom Prison Blues
with apologies to Johnny Cash and Mike Garcia

I feel a tailwind blowin
A blowin me down the road
It ain't felt like this since
Three days ago
And I'm blowin down to Malta
Malta's where I wanna go
Cause I ain't been to Malta
Never, ever befo

Road to Malta.

I got two donuts in me
Some decaf coffee too
I can feel my engine churning
How far to the next loo
Cause I'm headin on to Malta
Ninety miles I gotta do
Is there a good campground in Malta?
Lord if I only knew.

The Havre park was pretty
The Lutherans fed us well
But the sprinklers and the streetlights
They can go straight to hell
Now we're on our way to Malta
And you can never tell
When we get to Malta
We may just rest a spell

Garcia's back there somewhere
He's workin on his bike
Sometimes he seems like the Dutch boy
With his finger up his dike
But I'm on my way to Malta
With or without Mike
Cause this cool, sunny tailwind
Is one I really like

Over 20 miles per hour
Seems like a miracle to me
I wish we could keep this pace up
From sea to shining sea
But if it only lasts to Malta
Well that's just fine with me
Cause that'll put us into Malta
About a quarter to three

Long road to Malta

Cattle trucks fly by me
Blow manure in my face
I wish they'd just move over
Give me a little space
But they're on their way to Malta
Or some other place
I guess even in Montana
Some people run the rat race

This prairie's flattened out now
We've left the hills behind
There isn't much to look at
But I don't mind
Cause we're on our way to Malta
To see what we can find
Besides, climbing that last mountain
Was a real grind

Something to look at

This highway's full of roadkill
Of every shape and size
Prairie dogs and snakes and house cats
I know sometimes Kathryn cries
But it's the same here in Montana
As under smaller skies
Almost everything lives
Then most everything dies

A truck flew by Garcia
It blew him in the dirt
The gravel ate his shoulder
(He didn't have a shirt)
But he's back on the road to Malta
Though that must really hurt
With this North gusty wind
We better stay alert

Road rash

I missed the bend in the road there
Went riding on the rocks
Gridley followed after, but
At least I got shocks
Now we're back on the road to Malta
And it really rocks
Nobody'll know about our mishap
Unless one of us talks

We feel the tailwind blowin
A blowin at our backs
It's blowin us so fast now
We can really make some tracks
So we're blowin right through Malta
Won't even stop for snacks
There's 70 more miles to Glasgow
Before we can relax

It's Saco, but it might as well be Malta

Take one down, pass it around... No wait, that's another endless song. Well, I kept my mind busy for 10 hours of riding.

We actually made it 168.9 miles to Glasgow even with Garcia's bent seat, another broken spoke and Kathryn's flat BOB tire, which she fixed herself! We did stop for snacks in Malta, and at Saco and at every other wide spot in the road. We refueled more than the RV's pulling SUV's. And we did blow through Malta at about a quarter to three! I still felt really good when we got to Glasgow and could have done some more miles, if there were anywhere to go and any sun left. I felt like I was eating dinner with zombies though. I think Gridley may have been in mosquito bite or DEET shock. Anytime we dropped below 10mph the mosquitos would cover us head to toe. We planned to camp out, I even scouted ahead and arranged a spot, but the mosquitos were driving Gridley nuts on the road. You could kill 20 with one swat in the campground. So we're in a motel, sleeping like the dead. Could be a late starting, low mileage day.

So what, we did 168.9 miles today!