This journal, like an actual bike trip, has some boring parts (I know because I rode it, and I wrote it). 

Yet, you stuck with it. Because I wrote it, I also know that it contains just under 50,000 words. That’s not the length of a short story, or a novelette, or even a novella. It’s the size of a NOVEL, which means you most likely stopped and came back to it later at some point. That’s a lot of reading. Thank you for joining me.  I feel honored.

As I was writing it, I had a number of different thoughts. The first is this:

Since this first trip in 1982, a lot in the bicycling world has changed. These, in particular, come to mind.

1. Weather - Uncertainty about the weather, I think, is one of the things that has changed the most with cyclotouring. On this trip, I’d wake up and, unless there was water hitting my face, I couldn’t be sure if it was going to rain. Now, I have hyperlocal forecasting (yes, that’s a thing) and active radar maps. I’m not even saying one is better than the other, just that it’s really different now.
2. Maps - With GPS it’s really easy to pick out a route. On this trip, although I didn't mention it (it wasn’t worth journaling… you know, not like the IMPORTANT information about what time I woke up), I would buy a state map the first place I could find after crossing the border, then determine my route the night before, or sometimes the morning I started.
3. Communication - You can talk to your family and friends even while you’re riding, whereas I had to find a working payphone, then insert round pieces of metal which used to be used for currency. Also not mentioned in this journal, but I wrote a lot of letters…. to my parents and siblings, my grandmother, to Jerry, to Darla, Vicki Jo, Sheryl, and to a number of other friends. I carried stamps, mainly for postcards (if you recall the tiny print on my original journal, you can imagine how much I was able to squeeze onto a postcard), but also regular letters as well.

One of the things that hasn’t changed so much is the gear, and, in particular, the bicycle. I find it fascinating how the architecture of a bicycle is almost the exact same as it was in 1890. It might sound a little odd, but even now I’ll sometimes just stare at my 25-year-old Bruce Gordon bicycle, the second of only two road bikes I've ever owned (the first was the Viner I rode on this trip), and admire the geometry. A bicycle is a beautiful piece of machinery.

The other items….  tents, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, and other paraphernalia…  the technology is significantly better but, really, all you need is a tarp, a rope, and a blanket. The rest is just gravy.

The second thing that my reminiscence has caused is that I’ve been wondering a lot about what happened to the people you just read about. 

The folks I just casually met at gas stations and grocery stores, most of whom I never even learned their last names…. I seriously doubt they’d even remember talking to a guy on a bike forty years ago. But I do wonder how their lives progressed, and I hope they’re well.

Nor have I seen any of the people I got to know along the way.... William Caldwell, Earl Byrne, Mrs. Byrne, Charlie, Carol Ann, or the Koelemays. The only exception is the Martin family in Kentucky. I stayed a night with them on a later bike trip, but it's been more than twenty years since I had any contact with them. 

Most of the friends I stayed with on that trip have slipped away. Since that time, I’ve not seen Darla, Cheryl, Larry, Marcia, or Chris. Nor have I seen Jerry or Scott. I've had a couple of conversations with Ben, the last one more than fifteen years ago, and I stayed in touch with the Babins for many years.

I’d love to know what all of those people are doing now, and, even more importantly, how they’re doing.

I looked up a lot of the places I stopped at, curious to see if they’re still in business… the cafes, the bait shops, the motels. I wasn’t able to find most of them, but there were a few still in business. It made me feel old. Or, maybe the fact that I’m old makes me feel old.

Randomly, I eventually lived in three of the towns I rode through: Munday and  Knox City are only twelve miles apart. I rented a house in Munday for six months prior to purchasing a house in Knox City, and practiced in both towns for ten years. I also spent four weeks in a tiny trailer in Winnie (where the Koelemays lived) while I was doing some of my medical training.

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I want to make a few final comments before you leave. 

If it's been a while since you've taken a tour, climb back on that bike. I'm going to quote Bill "Old Grumble-Face" Stone:  "We won't be able to ride forever, so we ride while we can."

If you’re not interested in taking a bike trip, I hope you enjoyed this one vicariously. However, if you have ANY interest at all in taking a long weekend ride or a cross country trip I hope you give it some serious consideration, because now is the time to do it. 

It doesn’t matter if you’re a person who had a “widowmaker” heart attack and your heart’s ejection fraction is only 30%, or atrial fibrillation just saps your energy to ride... get an eBike. If you’re on dialysis, check into peritoneal dialysis. Kids? Teach them to bike and take them on a trip when they’re old enough like I did.  Not a great planner? Did you read this journal?!?  Flat broke? Do it on the cheap. No longer able to tolerate the heat? Ask a Sports Medicine doctor about a cooling vest. Not very smart? You’ll fit right in.  Back pain? Knee pain? NO LEGS? IT DOESN’T MATTER! 

If you’d rather stay at home and read about it, then you're looking in the right spot. CycleBlaze has some fantastic writers, and I spend more time than  I probably should reading journals. However, in this day and age there are so many accommodations that if you really want to take a trip, you CAN make it happen.

When Greg and I agreed on that schnapsidee in 1981 my life was forever changed. Now, when I look back on that kid I shake my head, smile, and think “No. Way.” But he did it… so keep this in mind:  The only thing keeping you from taking a bike trip, from going on your own Adventure, is the fact that you haven’t decided to do it. 

Decide you're going to do it. Then set a date. Once you do that, start planning. It will pick up speed as you go, and it WILL happen. 

Let go of your disbelief, that it's something you can't do. 

Let go of your fear of The Unknown. 

Just…  let go.

Heart

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