Falling asleep that night I had fully intended to wake up the next morning, get in a car, and drive to Bar Harbor.  The two brothers from England, Tommy and Johnny, seemed pretty cool and were more than happy to give me a ride.  The most beautiful rides were behind me, the most challenging mountains were behind me, I wasn't missing anything, everything was great, that is, except one major thing.


I woke up the next morning with guilt.  I felt as though I had cheated myself by accepting the car ride, and if I went though with it, I wouldn't be able to say "I biked to Bar Harbor, Maine from Detroit Michigan.  There would always be an astris somewhere in there leading to the exception of the past 240 miles, or three days of hill riding.  "THREE DAYS!" I yelled at myself!  "You're going to give up now....really?! You have biked for two weeks and you're going to give up on a couple of days!?"  I paced back and forth in my room waiting for the answer for about twenty minutes and then it hit me...much like a pillow...made of feathers...without a pillow case or anything to hold the feathers together really.  It was a timid decision, but I chose to ride rather than drive. 

When the brothers woke up I told them I wasn't going to take the offer after all.  I wouldn't have waited for them to wake up, but my gear was already in their car.  Their rental was a hatchback and we needed to see whether or not the bike would actually fit.  The night before we went out to the car to test it out.  For a while we manuvered the seats and the bike even more and once we got it, we decided to just keep the bike in there.  We figured that it took us long enough to get the damn thing in the car, why go through it again?   So when the brothers woke up and I told them that I had changed my mind, we ate breakfast and got all of my stuff out, said out goodbyes, and I took off. In hindsight, I should have considered The Clash before my decision because staying on my bike turned out to be double the work.
  
The next three days were, without a doubt, the worst days on my trip for my legs.  Although there weren't any mountain climbs, the center of Maine is littered with lots of steep hills and add up to a lot.  You never really have a break because you constantly climb 200 foot elevations over and over and over until you want to lie down, but you cant because it's not even noon yet and you still have more hills to do.   Aside from the relentless steep hill climbs, the fact that I was now just trying to get to Bar Harbor instead of enjoying the ride really payed a major toll on my motivation.  I found myself staring at the road more than my surroundings hoping that if I look at the road enough the ride won't seem as long.  Doing that for 2 and a half days was really hard on me both mentally and physically.

My first real boost of energy came when I saw my first sign for Bar Harbor.  My spirits lifted and my legs re-energized.  The pain from 4 days of 80 mile riding in hills went away and I was racing for the finish.  Even though I still had about 25 miles left, I was riding faster than before, and a genuine smile came on my face for the first time in what felt like forever.

Now this may be weird, but after riding for a full day, all I want is ice cream.  I usually never eat ice cream, but when I am cycling my body just craves it.  Maybe its the protein or just the fact that it reminds me of being young, but it's all I ever want.  With only about 17 miles to go I came across this popular looking ice cream stand.  There was a giant line out the door so I knew it was good.  The only problem was that I was 17 miles from Bar Harbor and riding that far after a lot of ice cream is nothing I wanted to do. It took a lot of me to continue on and wait until I got to the Island.  15 miles to Bar Harbor.  10 miles to Bar Harbor.  I even passed the freeking Atlantic Brewery just to get some God damn ice cream.  Nothing could stop me now.  I was determined to get some rum raisin one way or another, even if it meant buying a pint of vinella and a pint of rum.  I was going to get my ice cream.

Once I checked into the hotel that my parents got me for making 1000 mile trip (THANK YOU SO MUCH) I went out on the town looking for my prize.  I saw this couple holding toasted waffle cones filled with fresh delicious ice cream.  I was close.  They looked so happy and I needed that after these past few days.  I held my cool as much as I could while asking them where they got their ice cream.  The told me to go down the street, then make a left on the second block.  I went down the street, counted 1 block, two blocks, turned left, AND THEY GAVE ME THE WRONG DIRECTIONS! WHY?! I came to this blocked off street with nothing on it, only a whole bunch of dirt and cement mixers.  Thankfully when I came back to the main street I found some other people with ice cream and they led me in the right direction.

I basically ran into the ice cream store I was so excited.  I was all ready for my rum raisin on a waffle cone, but right in front of me was a sign that said "Lobster Ice Cream!"  With a bright red lobster painted on it.  Like a dog when introduced to a new word I cocked my head to one side, and dropped my eye brows in wonder.  "I must try this" I said aloud catching the attention of three children walking past me instigating the same look at me as I had at the sign with the "Lobster Ice Cream".  We awkwardly glared at one another, me at the children, the children back at me, and then the children at each other, all with the same expression of confusion and wonder.

Once inside I ordered my double scoop of Rum Raisin in a waffle cone, but I tried the lobster ice cream as well.  It was odd.  Vanilla ice cream with chunks of lobster in it.  It wasn't bad per se, but I would never order a whole serving of it.  At the end of the day I was happy again.  I had rum ice cream, I made it 1000 miles in 18 days, I freaked out some children, and I had a bed to sleep in. It was prefect.