As One Ends, So Another Begins

Finally, after 11 days on a bicycle, 638 miles later, I'm "home." At least most of my underwear are here in Boston (that's how I define home). So how were the last few days of my journey. Well let me tell you...in the format of a how-to manual

How to get picked up at the side of a road when you're bike breaks down...again. And you're 15 miles from a bike shop....

1. Sit in a grassy patch next to the side of the road
2. Make sure your bike is near you so people connect you with it.
3. Turn the bicycle upside-down to clearly tell the general passer-by that something is amiss.
4. Wait for a cute grandparently couple in a truck, like Marge and Carl, to ask if you need a ride.
5. Graciously thank them as they drive you all 15 miles to a bicycle shop in the opposite direction that they were heading.

But for reals, if Marge and Carl hadn't showed up...I might still be there. You see when I was riding up big hill I met big stick. Now I looked at big stick, as she laid passively in the narrow shoulder. And I said, "Big Stick, I'm going to go over you, please don't hurt me." I took big stick's silence as an understanding reply. Unfortunately as soon as working bike went over big stick on the narrow shoulder, big stick sprung up, and directly attacked my derailer....breaking it into pieces. For those of you who don't know with a broken derailer you can't even walk the bike...let alone ride it.

It would be helpful for all the readers here to know a new strategy I developed to be more safe while accepting rides from strangers...seeing as how I've become accustomed to it.

TIP: Inconspicuously look at the front of the vehicle and text someone the license plate number of the vehicle you are entering. So that way, if by chance they pull out a gun/blowtorch/machete, you can reply, "I already sent your license plate in, so unless this car is stolen, you're ass is grass." (Changing tone and diction as deemed necessary).

Other than that special excursion the last few days went off without a hitch. For the first time I began looking at Hillary (my bicycle) with disdain, but each day I knew I had to keep going, Boston was calling my name.

Here are some other short lessons I learned over the last few days:

LESSON: Small grassy patches next to abandoned factories will make a great place for a tent. But they will simultaneously make a great place to freak you OUT.

LESSON: Looking weak is okay. This lesson came as I was walking my bike yet another hill in MA. It seemed like fate, but every time I got off my bike to walk it (and the times were numerous) there was another cyclist who would come up behind me, riding his/her bike, and speed off onto the hilltop. For a while I cursed them, I assumed that they thought I was weak, that I took on more than i could handle, that I HAD to walk the bike and they didn't. But I realized that reason is based on faulty assumptions. It assumes that what they have endured and what I have endured are similar. How many miles have they gone pre-hill? How much weight do they have on their bike? What sort of bike do they have, is it better equipped to handle hill riding? What experience have they had on these hills? Each of these questions sheds more doubt than it does imply weakness. So from then on, as each new biker passed me, I simply said to myself, "We're on different adventures. You're present actions do not define my strength, I do."

LESSON: Sometimes ME time is GLEE time. On Friday, the second last day of my journey I was 75 miles from Boston starting off. My "goal" was to get there late Friday, stay in a hostel in the city and move into MATCH as soon as I could Saturday morning. But as I started biking on Friday, I realized two things: (1) I didn't want to bike another 75 miles. (2) I didn't have to be there until later on Saturday. So I said "poo" on my goal, turned around to head to a nearby campsite that I had passed and set up camp, all before 2PM. That night onward I was able to continue my summer reading, reflect on my summer as a whole, charge all of my electronic equipment, make podcast playlists for the final day of my ride, and most importantly prepare myself mentally for the end of the journey. For some reason my goal was to GET TO BOSTON AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. But I realized that I shouldn't shorten the journey I'm on, just because the next one's in sight. I should take the time that I have to wrap up loose ends, to reflect on what I've learned, and to soak in the experience.

LESSON: Talk to strangers. Even ones that look frightening. So here I was, toodling along Highway 12, toward Boston...I thought. When I get stopped by a red light at a corner liquor store. Outside the store are a group of four gentlemen who sort of give me a weird look, and then one comes over to talk to me. "Change to green," I think, but to no avail. "Where you headed?" He asks, "Boston," I say, and fill him in on my journey. "You're taking 12 to Boston?" He asked. "I thought so..." I replied. "I don't think that goes to Boston..." Apparently I had missed a vital fork 4 miles back and was subsequently headed up the wrong path. Within a couple of minutes he was back talking to the other gentlemen seeking to give me the most direct directions to get ack on my route. With a new found sense of humility and direction, I set off to recover my path. What if that light had turned green when I wanted it to? What if I decided that he looked "untrustworthy" and didn't talk to him? I would have wasted a lot more of my time on Highway 12. There was no danger in talking to him. We were in broad daylight, next to a busy road, he was on foot, I was on a bike. The variables were largely stacked in my favor, and yet I nearly didn't give him a chance to help me out. My fear was irrational, his outreach to me was inspirational, his directions, beneficial. When strangers talk, listen, they might have something really important to say.

So that's all, those have been my days and lessons from the end of my journey. I am now getting settled into my new home, while Hillary is locked away safely in her bike rack. She wanted some alone time for a little while and I couldn't blame her.

I'll be sure to be back in a few days to fill you in on my new life here @ Match. Let's just say I've already done karaoke down the street and raided Goodwill. I think this place and I are going to get along :-)