sixteen

WHAT A LONG STRANGE TRIP 

Solo bicycle touring....Blue skies with soft wind swept clouds and an occasional silent heavy jet filled with fellow travelers unaware of our common goal, wide open landscape void of vegetation no higher than my knees. 

Mountains fixed on the horizon that never seem to move, but soon miraculously appear behind me. I focus on the annoying sound of a ticking chain link, the creek of my panniers and the thump of the tar filled cracks in the road. With the taste of morning coffee in my mouth, my knees find their groove once more. 

I begin the morning search for a new way to embrace my leather seat to avoid my sensitive parts. Yesterday’s sweat, weeks of beard, and I wear my less dirty than the other one shirt. I smile as I realize why that guy moved two stools away in the restaurant. 

An oncoming van, horn blowing, lights flashing, and a total stranger pumping his fist in enthusiastic support. The long looks of men my age trying to gather every drop of information. I know because I took many of those long looks. 

There is a paradox to solo touring; being so far from home and alone, but finding a home with total strangers and at times feeling like a rock star. I look at the map on my wall; red lines show the path of my past adventures. 

Every day I am totally amazed, no human can ride a bicycle that far......but I did.