THE TRIP: Part 1

I

I wake up to total darkness. I freak out. He left me. Dan took the tent and left me, alone, in the middle of the forest. This realization not only terrifies me, but it sickens me as the million reasons for which he could have done this race through my head. I'm screwed. This is the end for me. It's winter, I have no shelter, and, worst of all, my Trek 520's a nightmare. As I panic, my eyes slowly begin adjusting to the darkness. I notice a light. Just a sliver, bleeding through a blind. I relax.

I'm in a comfortable bed in the middle of Yellowstone National Park. Dan is sleeping in the next bungalow. A park employee took pity on us last night. She told us we could stay in employee housing if we wanted. It's the last day of the season and most of the staff has already left. It's snowing outside. We've been on the road for over a month, and we're not even halfway.

Halfway, Oregon. Halfway to what? Nobody knows. There was a sign on the road though. "Halfway to halfway" it read. We had to take a picture. A little further, we bought a cantaloupe from a deserted produce stand by the side of the road. Suggested donation was a dollar. We dropped the money into a tin box. This wasn't the first time. Oregonians are trusting people.

A friendly stranger, a blurry distant memory, told us that happened to another pair of cyclists. One of them took his things and left the other in the middle of the night. Guess that one guy must have been really annoying. Must be why I assumed Dan left. Or maybe it's because my bike has been slowing us down every step of the way. I'm sure it's frustrating for him.

List of nightmares: finicky caliper brakes, broken crank arm, bent rim, mangled spokes, flat-happy touring tires. The bike is a nearly thirty year old steel frame. I love it, but I should have known better. People think it's a beauty though. "It's in great shape," they said. "It will take you all the way no problem," they claimed. I'm told I'll get a good price for it in New York though.

Two months and a half. That's the estimate. During that time, we'll have ridden from Portland to the Oregon coast, and then all the way to New York City through the Cascades, the Rockies, the Ozarks, and the Appalachians. Those damned Appalachians. Can't wait for Nashville, though. I'm dying for some hot chicken.

My buddy from Tennessee thinks I'm crazy, but he's impressed. To him, it seems like I eat fried chicken just about every other day. He's not wrong. You wouldn't tell from looking at me though. I'm not in the best of shapes, but I'm definitely on the skinny side. Skinny with a side of unfit. Used to work out and exercise, but I'm not in college anymore. Got other hobbies now. I've been sitting behind a desk, staring at a monitor and a television for the past two years. And things aren't much different at home.

Sometimes, I think I'm going crazy. Good thing Dan decided to move to New York on a bicycle. When he asked me if I wanted to tag along, well I knew I couldn't refuse. It's not like I want to sit on a bike for four thousand miles, but I have to get out of L.A. Seems like the sensible thing to do.