Conclusion - The Lions on the Road: Cycling London to Cape Town - page 339

of the crew. I carried these on my bike eventually arriving on my parents' dinner table in
Toronto.
WhenIarrivedatJFKairport,IheadedtoNewJersey.IcycledacrosstoManhattan
and up the Avenue of The Americas. Cycling on the west side of Central Park, I entered
Harlem.
The police in Harlem stopped me as they looked at my overloaded bike and shook
their heads. ”Do you know where you are?” they incredulously asked me.
“Yes, I do. I am in Harlem and I want to cycle across the GW (George Washington
Bridge) into New Jersey,” I replied.
“Do you know that they shoot women and children here in the day time?” one of-
ficer quipped. It didn't faze me. I had been in Africa where there were far greater threats
(disease, animals, etc .). I actually felt comfortable in this city.
By the time I arrived into New Jersey, the pain in my knee was unbearable. I
hobbled over to the nearest motel just off the main highway. It was quite sleazy (they
charged by the hour) and slept fully clothed on the bed. I decided that the next morning, I
would return to New York and fly to Toronto.
My knee was worse than ever for in the morning I couldn't bend it at all and the
painwouldsimplynotletup.IlimpedintoLaGuardiaAirportandboughtaone-wayticket
toToronto.IcalledmyDadandlittlesistertotellthemthatIwasflyingbackhomeandnot
to tell Mom for I wanted my arrival to be a surprise.
Coming Home
When I arrived at the airport, my dad and sister came to pick me up. I didn't recog-
nize my sister or the car. Boy, things had changed! It was great to be back. We put all my
gear in the car and drove home. I got out of the car before we turned onto our street and
walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
My mother answered the door and in 1.5 seconds she had 100 facial expressions
(shock, joy, disbelief, etc .) and then started to cry. I was home.
My last entry in my journal read like this: