This is CNC from Michael's eyes and does not reflect anyone else's views (most likely).
Cycle North Carolina was such a great ride.
Making it really great was the camaraderie of Dave, and Rike.
We also had Al and Margaret for three days. Great friends make a great ride.

The first three days were picture perfect weather and the only glitch in that time was a broken camera. I had been in a crash 2 days before CNC and was unaware that the camera was defunct. I took over a hundred pics that first day.
None came out. I’d rather lose the camera than the pictures.
The first day ended in Forest City and I went to Wally World and bought another.
I wish the new Kodak was as user friendly as my other two Olympus cameras.
The new Kodak also seems to be more vulnerable to rain.

Rain. After the third day, rain was very much a part of our trip.
It was a deluge for three days until we came into Wilmington.
It rained so hard that my pal, Al, could not pick us up at the end for hours.
Al had to board the ferry at Southport and avoid the swamped bridges and roads.
The rain for that area was worse than many hurricanes.
At times our pedals dipped into the streams that were roads. Still, it was great.
We dressed appropriately, for us.
Dave, Rike, and I wore a thin undershirt of miracle fibers underneath our jerseys and if we kept a certain intensity about us we were fine.
Slowing and stopping cooled us down.

I’ve been asked, “What was your favorite part?”
I liked Lake Lure and the countryside for their beauty.
I liked Albemarle for the best city and restaurants. I loved hanging with cyclists.
The riders were mostly warm, friendly, and smiling.

I must admit that the best part was also the worst part
and I’ll talk to my therapist about why I think it was the best part.

Adventures of Mr. Blue Pants:
This needs to be told.
The century day was moving along very nicely and we had about thirty or so miles left.
Rike and I were almost done with the extra 20 mile loop that would make up the century, when a group of cyclists came by. As I had with a lot of groups I temporarily caught, said hello, and tried to pull the group a bit. I was dissed. They allowed me to just pull away for 30 to 50 yards. I had been dissed like this before. No problem. I’ll just drift back to Rike and we’ll continue as before with our steady pace. As I was dropping back to Rike, I was clearly away from the paceline of about seven riders. I was indeed at the yellow center line. One of the riders yelled, “Don’t even think about getting in this spot.”
It quickly came to me what some of these people were about.
I quickly said, "I don't want it".
It was then that Mr. Blue Pants came up beside me, looked dead in my eyes,
and stood sprinting.
I took that to mean that he wanted to play. So I played.
He was at a loss when he saw that I would easily dust him.
He then shouted, "What's your problem, man?"
I said, "I don't have a problem. Have a nice day."
I then dropped back to Rike, which was my intention all along.
I told Rike about what happened and said that we'll just slow it down and let them go.
We were slow and they were slow.
Finally Rike said that if I wanted to pass them he would try to stay with me.
We sped up slowly. I didn’t want to make it hard for Rike or really, anybody.
As we neared the center of the group, there was a quick rotation of two riders and then Mr. Blue Pants took his turn which was a slower rotation.
When Blue Pants came off he didn’t stay close to his own group but came over in front of me.
I held my steady pace.
Mr. Blue Pants was turning his head slightly to keep his peripheral vision on us. I would have to speed up a tad and go into the opposing lane to be rid of him and his friends.
He kept pushing us over intentionally, no matter what his “friends” were thinking then or now.
He was messing with us as cars were approaching.
Because of the rain and Mr. Blue Pants pushing us out into traffic, Rike hit my rear wheel,
which is sometimes fatal.
Rike miraculously stayed upright.
We kept silent and put them in our rearview mirror, so to speak.

Occasionally we looked back to see what else they would do.
They remained behind us maybe a tenth of a mile to the end of the ride.

Yes, this was the worst because of the danger
Mr. Blue Pants was injecting into a very friendly ride otherwise.

This is why it was the best part of the ride:

Mr. Blue Pants and at least one other rider were snobs. A snob is a bigot with money.
Mr. Blue Pants is a bully. Bullies are also cowards.
All bullies are.
Mr. Blue Pants judged the book by its cover instead of looking at the character.
Mr. Blue Pants thought he could beat me up on the bike.

Here we are on a trek of hundreds of miles, we’re at war over fuel,
we have a redneck country largely against alternative fuels and transportation,
cyclists are murdered and maimed on the road intentionally,
cyclists are a wee minority,
and Mr. Blue Britches antagonizes and
endangers other cyclists that are just out to have fun.

Mr. Blue Pants doesn’t know that I’m a Vietnam Vet.
He didn’t know that I was at the DMZ as mostly a grunt.
He didn’t know that millions of people wanted to kill me, maim me, or imprison me,
much like our own country which is the most imprisoned nation on Earth.
Please, everybody, wake up.
He didn’t know anything about me and largely still does not.
He didn’t know that I may not back down from giant ogres with faulty parenting.
I have a beard.
Is he against beards or white people with beards?
Would he treat a black man with dreadlocks the same?
What are the limits of his bigotry?
Would he be different if he knew I’d promoted cycling for 30 plus years?
Would he be different if he knew I have raised thousands for charities?
Would he be different if he knew that
I rarely pass up tipping maids at motels or bathroom attendants?
It doesn't matter.
He should never treat anybody as he treated me.
He'll treat others the same way.

I, however, know a lot about Mr. Blue Pants.
He’s every mean snob and bigot I’ve ever known.
He’s over-rated and over-paid.
Nobody should trust him in the work place or any other atmosphere.
He’s ungrateful for the easy life he’s led.
He’s all the problems of America and the planet.
He thinks it’s his birthright to bully and fool people.
Every cyclist in that group is indeed, guilty by association.
You are not welcome at the "Inn".
You really shouldn’t be on the planet.
You’re everything that’s wrong with the world.

There is no way Mr. Blue Pants can be truthful about what happened.
He made bad choices. Mr. Blue Pants is about six feet six to eight inches tall, muscular,
and probably less than forty years of age.
He thought he could bark and everybody would scurry off.

Mr. Blue Pants could never beat me. I’m in another age bracket.
Mr. Blue Pants and his entire pace-line got spanked
by a 5 foot six inch, 56 year old hippy-looking old man who afterwards told him to
have a nice day.
Now he’s a funny part of folklore.
Thanks.

 In the words of Rike, "It was if these Ferraris got creamed by a little old Nash Rambler".

This isn’t negative. It’s funny.
What is negative is bullying and endangering others.
The best thing you could say about this guy is that he doesn’t know a paceline,
much about riding, rules of the road, or life. 
It’s a reminder that traitors are always among us.

If you don’t want to ride with other cyclists, speak to them, and just be friendly,
why join a ride with 1100 cyclists? Are you just stupid?

Life is fragile. We never know if our health will escape us.
If my life or health abandons me today, I'll stand with my words and beliefs.

Mr. Blue Pants needs to know that I won’t scurry.
Mr. Blue Pants needs to get right with God or just get right.
He's really too big for his blue britches.

If there had been any sign of remorse, this would never be read.
It isn't just a saying and I really mean it:
Have a nice day.