NOTE: By now some or most of you are aware of the “doings” at Bicycles Unlimited. I’m not ready to comment on that yet. Look for something in this coming Monday’s post. As always, thank you for your love and support.
S.
It’s no secret; I am enamored of the idea of riding a bike. I draw a particular satisfaction from combining the joy of riding with a purpose. If my ride has a practical application, a grocery run, a trip to the Post Office, a bank trip, going to a meeting, some utilitarian function, it seems even better to me.
That said, one of the questions all cyclists get asked a lot is, “Where are you going?” I often answer, “Nowhere.” It’s the literal truth. Most rides start and end in the same place, so in effect, they don’t go anywhere. This would be especially true of “hamster bike” rides. I’m referring to riding trainers or rollers. (Talk about going nowhere!)
The very first time Tom attempted to do some cycle touring was, by all practical measures, a disaster. He didn’t really know much about cycle-touring, other than the fact of its existence. He knew people loaded up the stuff they needed on a bike and then rode off somewhere. Kind of like a vacation, but without the car.
Richmond Virginia was a good starting place, because that was where Tom was. He picked a destination that intrigued him. Two destinations stood out. One was Mount Rushmore, and the other was the Grand Canyon. The Dakotas seemed a bit extreme, so Tom decided to go for the Grand Canyon. For some reason, Arizona didn’t seem so far away.
Tom bought a rear rack for his bike. Then, on the advice of some folks at the bike shop, he bought a front rack and a set of front panniers. Tom had done some camping, so he thought he had a good idea of what to pack. He spent some time planning his load, and scheduling a two week vacation.
On the appointed day, Tom left Richmond. After a bit of fumbling around he managed to get out of the city and established a westward course on US-250. The first flat occurred shortly after leaving Richmond behind.
By the end of the first day, Tom had almost made it to Charlottesville. He’d traveled a bit more than 70 miles, and gotten a bit less than 60 from home.
Day two: Tome got lost in Charlottesville. Eventually he found US-250 on the west side of town. Then there was the climb up Afton Mountain. Tom was riding an honest Raleigh, with a total of ten available gears, none of them particularly low. He resorted to pushing the 100 pound bike and load a lot. By mid-afternoon, he had reached the summit of Afton Pass. Thirty miles, and it had taken most of the day. He decided to do the descent into Waynesboro. He had his first crash on the way down the mountain. It wasn’t a bad crash, but it shook him. He walked the rest of the descent. Tom camped that night, in a small grove of trees, about midway between Waynesboro and Staunton.
By the end of two weeks, Tom had made it to Albany, Ohio. He had ridden (best guess) something like 500 miles, and managed to get about 360 miles away from home. The bike was a wreck, and the rear wheel had just collapsed. His gear was in tatters, and his money was running low. Time to pack it in. He gave the remains of the bike away, packed his gear up, and bought a bus ticket back to Richmond.
To this day, when asked about that trip, Tom will tell you, “It was, possibly, the best tour I’ve ever done. I didn’t really get anywhere, but I had a great time. Once I stopped worrying about a schedule and just rode to see the world, it was great! I learned more on that trip than on any other I’ve ever done.”
Sometimes, nowhere is the best possible place to ride to.
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