Riding down the last ridge of the Mountains, we can see the city of Johnstown just mere miles away, we're cruising down these windy roads getting closer and closer to civilization (or so we thought) and.....my breaks give out. I had to full squeeze both the front and rear break levers and use my legs for the fixed gear portion of mobility to stop myself from going down the hill at death speed. We had to pull over to re-adjust the breaks. When I took them off they had metal chips in the rubber pads....which I have never seen. But anyway, sanded and tightened the breaks as best I could and we rode into Johnstown.
It was a sketchy looking little town. It looked as though a bomb had dropped in the city and all the buildings and business survives but the majority of the people died. The ones who were left were disfigured and mentally ill. (seriously we saw 7 people, all but 2 was mentally retarded). We tried finding anything, a hostel, something. We even went to the YMCA but they were closed. This city was a grey, bleak, industrial wasteland. We had no breaks, and couldn't ride on especially through the foot hills.
I am not all that frightened by much of anything that a city can throw at me, but this was different. This town was "Deliverance" meets that city in "Battle for the Planet of the Apes." We gave in and had to get a hotel room figuring we'd be safe for the night, could rest, clean up and find a bike shop in the morning to get new brakes. Well because it was the weekend no shops were open, so we stayed for 2 nights. Watching nothing but TBS**.
**George and I can still quote word for word the commercials they had on those 2 night.
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