California Bike Trip, day 0: Phoenix - Maricopa

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The trip starts with me arriving home from work a tad early from an otherwise typical Thursday.

A well planned California Bike Trip entails packing and loading everything onto the bike the day before so that the pre-ride preparation involves little more than fueling up and riding off into a figurative sunset. Of course, the sunset is merely figurative and not literal because riding from Phoenix to Maricopa is much safer while there's still light out.

Of the many things that will go wrong over the next few days, the fact that it's Thursday afternoon and I haven't yet packed and loaded has the distinction of being the first. There was a mix-up at the bike shop, and the panniers aren't yet in. Tomorrow afternoon in Carpinteria I'll check my voice mail and learn that my panniers arrived late by one day. I won't be pleased. Very fortunately, Coworker Steve had come through today and lent me his panniers for the trip. They're small and they're not waterproof, but they'll suffice.

So I pack and load most of this junk:
Onto my bike like so:
The printer-paper box is intended only for today. I'm planning on using it to store in one neat place everything I must bring with me onto the train (since I don't have proper luggage). The box idea works out well. Again I am impressed by the practicality of ghetto style.

And I'm off. I ride into an actual, literal sunset, already behind schedule. Actually, it's still somewhat figurative, but that's only because today I ride south and not west.

Another benefit of packing and loading ahead of time, had I done it, is that it allows one to test ride the bike fully loaded. If I had done so then I would have discovered that my handlebars cannot simultaneously fit both the handlebar bag, though it is a small one, and my large, to-see headlight, so I resort to using my small, to-be-seen headlight. Most of the today's route traverses through the ongoing sprawl of Phoenix/Tempe/Chandler, but outside the pale artificial glow of the Valley streets, Hwy. 347 is dark, and the night is moonless. My to-be-seen headlight may be nifty with its simple and lightweight velcro mounting strap and tiny, ingenuous battery charger, but it does little to illuminate the tumbleweed and rocks and assorted junk that are littered about along the shoulder. Fortunately, I can somewhat manage to see where I'm going because the headlights from the endless stream of late-working motoring commuters act as searchlights that zoom ahead to reveal the pavement ahead. I manage to avoid most obstacles.

I arrive at the train station mere minutes before it opens, which is a little after 9:00PM. Here's the picnic area out front:
I discover that waiting outside there for ten minutes or so during late April is much easier than waiting there for three or four hours during late December. Not that I know for sure what's it's like to wait there for three of four hours during late December, but I do know what's it's like to wait at the convenient store down the street for three or four hours during late December. But I digress --

Once inside I pick up my pre-ordered ticket and pay the extra $15 for my bike: $5 for handling and $10 for the box. Then I proceed to put my bike in the box upside down:
Mistake #2.

I wait four hours for the train's arrival. I sit for a while in the lobby chairs. I take to the floor and sleep some. I procrastinate reading my book on philosophy, a trick that I will perfect throughout the trip. I listen to two kids hopped up on sugar play duck, duck, goose -- a game totally unfit for only two players yet able to maintain their amusement for an improbably long time. I give thanks to my earplugs. I ignore the blaring television set in the corner.

The train arrives. This is when I learn that it actually matters to use those bike boxes right-side up.

Conductor: You put it in upside down?

Craig: Yeah, is that a problem?

Conductor: Yes, the cutout handles are on the bottom.

Craig: Okay, I'll just fix that real quick and --

Conductor: -- There's no time! Quick, to the train!

I listen to the clang of seat and stem as we flip the box over, and the two of us carry the box to the loading platform, which is just a concrete sidewalk next to the train track. There we wait for a time that in hindsight I estimate to be ample for re-boxing a bike. But rather than re-boxing my bike, I opt to stand idly and wonder how my bike will fare upside down interstate train travel. This line of wondering is unfounded, though; the conductor suddenly whips into action and not-at-all-figuratively throws the box into the baggage car, where the box heavily lands on its side with a discordant bang and thump. Now I wonder how my bike will fare on-its-side interstate train travel. With that thought I board and am assigned a seat right behind the duck-duck-goose kids, and promptly I decide to sleep in the lounge car for the night.

End day 0.