“Pennsylvania”, or “Why man invented motor vehicles”
Pennsylvania clobbered us. There, we said it. We virtually strutted out of Ohio, eight states under our belt, in the best cycling shape of our lives, and having found warm showers for ten consecutive nights. We had this bicycle travel thing down.
Then we crossed into the Keystone State, which would to us be more of a stumbling block. Our first experience: heading out of East Palestine, Ohio, we passed a bar where at least fifty Harley riders were revving up. “Hope they’re not heading our way,” I said to Laura. But alas, soon were were overcome by a deafening horde of bikers. As we crossed the state line, our ears still ringing, we met a climb that slowed us to a grinding crawl. The hot afternoon sun seemed to mock us as we were forced to dismount and push our barge up the steep slope. At the top, we remounted, screamed down the other side at the speed of fear, only to meet another seemingly insurmountable climb at the bottom. Repeat dozens of times, and you have a fair representation of our first few days in PA. The mountains and forests were lovely, but our chosen mode of transit made it very difficult for us to appreciate it. As the days rolled on (and boy, did they roll!), we began to think that our motorized cousins might have discovered the best way to enjoy this state.
Hour after hour, our legs burned as we propelled ourselves along this asphalt roller-coaster. Summiting a particularly brutal climb, we collapsed in the shade of a small church in “Pleasant Hill”. Apparently a motorist was in charge of nomenclature. Lying on the grass, Laura released her weariness in sobs, wondering how we would ever make it across this giant of the east. Soon her angst was projected upon the whole of the trip, and a total breakdown ensued. Equally exhausted, I struggled to summon words of encouragement, and instead focused my energy on coaxing her back onto our bike to find a place of rest for the night.
We pushed ourselves a few more miles into tiny Portersville, hoping to find a suitable place to pitch our tent. We were greatly encouraged to see a volunteer fire department with a couple of men near their trucks out front. Fire departments have been a reliably welcoming institution on our trip, so we rode up confidently and asked, “So, who’s in charge here?”
“We are, I guess,” one of them said, looking us up and down. We explained our situation and asked permission to pitch our tent on the vast lawn behind the firehouse. Hesitantly he answered, “I don’t see why that would be a problem.” His words emerged slowly, as though he were actively trying to come up with a reason that it would be a problem. He looked over at his friend who wore sunglasses, a shaved head, and a sneer, hoping for some help, but received none. Laura attempted to fill the awkward silence by telling him a little more about our trip and how many other firehouses had welcomed us in other states.
“All we need is a spot of grass, permission, and a spigot to fill up our water bag,” Laura offered.
“Well we don’t have a spigot,” he quickly responded, seizing an opportunity to discourage us. They were clearly communicating that they wanted to say no, but our day had been too long, and our legs too tired to be easily deterred. It was going take an outright refusal to make us pedal on. The man looked back to his silent friend, looking for the courage to say no. “You’re on your own,” said his half-amused expression. In the end, his awkwardness at refusing outweighed his awkwardness at accepting. We set up camp in the shade of a tall line of trees, feeling palpably unwelcomed yet relieved to have permission, however hesitantly it was granted.
This website chronicles the adventures of 
yep-in my extensive travels i have found the northern folks much less hospitable. not all of course.
anyway-Go Steelers!
Good to hear you made it thru-across Pennsylvania….. and across 10 states so far….. Look forward to reading more of your postings ….and more about the center states locations that you visit….. Don
Hang in there Laura!!
Staying at fire stations, Jails or EMS staions: In my three solo cross-countryand in my area, I have stayed in a total 320 stations. In PA I hve stayed in fire stations in Warren, Williamsport and Coatsville - 160 miles between the last two in one day.