Why a Bike Ride?

Summer of 2009:
More adventure. The plan: Ride from St. Louis, MO to Upper Saddle River, NJ, via Ann Arbor (to visit my brother), then across Ontario and thru Buffalo to Hobart College (Geneva, NY), then south to the Delaware River, which I'd follow into NJ and continue southeast to home. From Ann Arbor, it is the reverse of the route I took across America 2 years ago.
With a meeting to attend in St.L., it seemed a good idea to ride back.
St.L. departure date: 6/15. Estimated distance: about 1,150 miles, or one-third my Cross-America trip. Theoretically, the wind would be at my back. The hope: a 100-miles-a-day average and 12 days in the saddle. Total elapsed time: dependent upon weather and equipment outages.
My son says it will be dry every night and drenching during the day, the other side of the road will be smooth whereas I'll ride in under-construction rubble, the wind will be in my face, and all roads will be uphill. With my luck, could happen.
No official money-raising, but if you want to contribute, the trip ain't cheap.
I will make the blog entries at sporadic points, with fuller descriptions at trip's end.


Summer of 2007:
It was a personal challenge, short and simple. I needed to prove to myself that this 70-year old man wasn't over the hill yet.

So, while I was at it, I appealed to 4 different constituencies to pledge financial support for my ride. The consitituencies do not overlap in any way. I raised money for:

The Ethical Culture Society of Bergen County, of which I was the President (2006-8): (http://www.ethicalfocus.org/). ECS is a caring humanist community that believes in deed, not creed, as expressed in social action.

Upper Saddle River, my home town, in support of all the volunteer services: the Fire Department; the Ambulance Corps; the Rescue Squad.

The Interact Club, at the Bergen Academies (a county high school with competitive admissions, where I am a substitute teacher). The club helps the hungry and homeless, and also pays the fare for children from the 3rd world to come to the US for medical treatment.

And last but not least (they are all equal in my mind), I hoped to kindle the giving for my alma mater, Hobart College, so we could present them with a sizable class gift in June, 2008, at our 50th reunion.

So you now have both the real reason ... and the good reasons.

And while I was at it, I wanted to try to show up those who said I wouldn't make it on the (ambitious) schedule I set for myself. I didn't, making an average of only 81 miles per day, when riding. I was done in by the steeps, the weight I carried, some bike problems, headwinds and afternoon thunderstorms. Color me humbled.

And now that the ride is over, I slake my need to write by adding occasional longer-view essays based upon the experience.

To summarize the trip, I covered 3,467 miles, solo. My route ran from home, in Upper Saddle River, in northeastern NJ, to Buffalo, across Ontario, then through Michigan to Wisconsin, across Minnesota, Nebraska, and into Colorado at the northeastern corner. I went southwest from there to Denver, then south to Albuquerque, and due west to L.A., across the Mojave Desert.

I lost approximately 4 days to weather, 3 days to visits en route with my brother in Michigan and my oldest son in Denver, and about 3 days to various bike issues. That leaves 39 days for being in the saddle. Never had a leg issue. Ate like a pig and lost weight.

A great experience. Read on.

Bob

Saturday, January 26, 2008

(Cross-America Ride, 2007) ... What Changed?

Well, “change” may not be the appropriate word. Let’s say I was “reminded” of things I once realized a long time ago, but had lost touch with. I refer to the the simultaneous diversity of all who are Americans and the common thread of decency in those same people. There just needs a way to be personally involved to get to that level of decency in interaction. It takes the right set of circumstances for it to be revealed.

A nutty 70-year old on a bike worked for me – especially with the legend on the back of my jersey (“NJ to LA”). It caught people’s attention and provoked their curiosity.

If you’ve read much of my blog, you must have realized how different the nice people were whom I met en route. There were those in extremely poor circumstances, as in Richford, NY, and the very comfortable upper middle class folks who put me up in their homes in Michigan; there was the college president as well, and all the others who opened their homes to me for a night’s sleep or a meal; there were the fellow bike-riders in Canada who outfitted me with the best tires around (they gave them to me - no charge!) and the humanly and humanely concerned Hispanic family in Arizona who followed me and lit the shoulder of the road for me at night with their pickup truck. There were all the others who said they’d pray for me, and wished me well; the bike repair shop pros all over the US who never charged me for the adjustments to my bike; and even the simply curious who wanted to ask me about the trip, and shake my hand ... quite a few even took pictures of me with them.

And the native American in the curio shop out west ... they are reputed to be cold and uncompromising negotiators (at least to us white men) ... but one guy wouldn’t take money for my cold soda and offered me a second one as well.

This is heartwarming stuff. It was far and away the best part of the adventure.

It doesn’t take much to run into kindnesses of this type; better still, they are indelible in the my memory now. Why peoples’ general good nature is not what stays firmly in one’s consciousness is a bit of a mystery. Many of us have had wonderful experiences of this sort. But the memory of them seems to need special evocation. I think we become overwhelmed by the things that make us shake our heads sadly. The calculus seems to be that even one evil event overshadows countless “good’s.”

Maybe that’s the bane of being an optimist. We know it can be better and we seem so undone, repeatedly. But like the dog that only needs a pat on the head now and then but always comes back for more, we persist. Optimists are the goldendoodles of the human kind. Anyhow, that’s how I like to characterize us.

Sometimes I think the optimist is less of a realist than the true cynic. The cynic certainly seems to get more positive reinforcement. Good things don’t last. Evil is ever to be counted upon to appear. That idea goes to that veneer of civilization that strips away so easily, all too often. But it needs countering, so some of us tilt after the windmills and try to make the good fight.

That is part of what underlies my commitment to the Ethical Culture Society and the causes I get a chance to support and advance through and with them.