It was early on a Saturday mornimg in Martindale, Texas, a small town south and east of Austin. I had arrived in San Marcos the night before where I stayed with a friend. The accommodations were not the best, with a very noisy air conditioner, hole in the floor, disgusting toilet, and an air mattress that deflated overnight. But it was free, so I couldn’t complain much. The friend, who was flirting with frenemy territory, got me to the ride in the nick of time. I checked in, got my rider number stickers, goodie bag, said hello to some fellow riders I had met on practice rides, and got ready to roll out hundreds of other people.