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“Cheating”

January 25, 2009 | posted by Jon under united states, updates

Call it a catch-up post, but I feel like people deserve a longer narrative of what has been going on these past couple of days in recompense for our neglecting to post…..

I respect people who call themselves purists, and I think there is a lot to be said for that viewpoint.  However, when it comes to bike touring, I consider myself an opportunistic purist.  That is, if I can ride, I will, and I prefer it.  But if I can’t ride, I’ll find another way to keep going.  This past week, that “another way” manifested itself in the form of hitchhiking.

Some people might look at the past couple of days of travel as “cheating”, but Lars and I decided early on that we weren’t going to kick ourselves or get depressed about failing to ride every mile.  First of all, our route doesn’t allow it (seach Wikipedia for Darien Gap), and second, we don’t have anything to prove.  It’s not a race, and at our final destination no one is going to fault us for not riding through hardly any of Alabama.  If they do, we already have a response for them - “When was the last time you rode 7,000+ miles transcontinentally?”

Yeah, so maybe I am a little disappointed that my rear sat on more seat cushion than leather saddle these past couple of days, but I think there are lessons to be learned from hitching, just like any other stretching experience.  But before the “thumbs up and out!” sermon, I should recount the week’s events, picking up where Lars’ post left off: Tuesday’s (Jan 20) “Inaugural” ride to Atlanta.

A journal excerpt (verbatim….I was tired when I wrote this):

103.5 miles. Enough said.  6 AM to 6:30 or 7 PM riding.  That seemed like that’s all that was (??).  Not good riding either.  Crammed, trafficky riding.  But to be a little less depressing, a list of things I saw on the road today:

4 bungees, 1 complete set of lingerie, string, tape, 1 frying pan, 2 ice cube trays, a sharp-looking knife, a Barbie, many glass shards, 1 car headlight, a couple of pens, and a hubcap.

I’m tired, congrats to Obama, goodnight.

Tuesday was by far our longest day, but we had Vernon’s house to look forward that evening.  Vernon is a wonderful man who used to teach at Goshen College, particularly in cross-cultural education, so it was interesting to talk both to him and to others with him present, since he added much to the conversation.  Little did we know we would have a cheering, picture-snapping receiving party to greet us when we pulled into their house.  After a splendid meal of cornbread and ham and bean soup, we chatted with Vernon and co. before they graciously left us with their entire house (Vernon remarried and now lives down the street with his wife, but still keeps his original house for guests).

That following morning we were treated to breakfast at IHOP where we met a friend of Vernon’s that worked for the state mapping all the dirt roads in Georgia by hand on linen sheets.  He ate with us, and apparently frequented the restaurant enough to be be able to order “the usual” - a senior special with grits instead of hash browns and two glasses of sweet tea :).  No wonder he comes back…

Lars and I then headed off down the road with full bellies and a bright outlook - for about 10 miles.  I didn’t expect to ride 100+ miles without consequence, especially after 5 days of rest, so that meant knee pain was back in full force.  We rode to I-85 where we promptly situated ourselves on the on-ramp with high hopes of catching a ride on the many trucks headed south.  The only car we managed to stop was a patrol car headed south that told us to get off of the on-ramp, and that hitching in Georgia was illegal.  We smiled and nodded and handed him a card with this website’s address on it, and headed back to the gas station to ask for rides there.  After 3.5 hours of no luck at the gas station, I decided to brave the on-ramp again.  As luck would have it, I was again scolded and told I would not get another chance.  Finally Lars and I caught a ride with two brothers and their Latino workers who were in the repo business.  That ride was culturally stretching for me, because it mixed the down-home, wild southern country boys with a quiet, observant Latino presence.  Then when we jumped in, it seemed as though all of our cultures were as squished as our bodies, and it was a bit uncomfortable.  If different cultures had scents, this ride was like walking into the Yankee Candle Store.  Thankfully it was only for 10 miles.

Following that ride, we got another short ride with a hunter who educated us about the difference between deer raised in Georgia and deer raised in Illinois (no “gamey” taste in Illinois meat), and then we got our final ride  with a couple headed back to Alabama from Atlanta with an automatic wheelchair for their neighbor.  They were incredibly gracious and dropped us off in La Grange, GA where Vernon had referred us ahead to a contact there, named Anton Flores.  After arriving at his home, we had a chance to eat a wonderful meal and talk to Anton and his wife, Charlotte, about a community they have started.  Alterna Community is a housing collective started by Anton and his wife to provide for immigrants in La Grange.  The Flores’ involvement allow immigrants to live in homes rather than trailers and still pay a similar rent, all where earning equity and learning about home ownership.  This group of close neighbors meet together almost daily for liturgy, prayer, or a meal, and work at meshing their beliefs, values, and daily lives into one cloth of life.

What impressed me most about Anton’s work was he really didn’t have many models to work from. Not many people have done this sort of shared buying, and I respect him for seeing a need, coming up with a solution, and then running with the idea.  So far it seems to be working quite well, and the community is expanding.

After breakfast with the Flores’, we headed back out onto the highway….my knee still bothered me. We had high hopes of making it to Montgomery, about 100 miles distant, that day.  We must have been looking extra presentable with our hair just right, because it was not more than half an hour before we got a ride taking us to Greenville, AL, about 140 miles from where we were.  We rode with an Apache helicopter technician that had just returned from Afghanistan.  He was very interesting to talk to, and we asked him tons of questions about his war experience, but again I felt a clash of beliefs that our conversation never really touched on.  I suppose that is part of being in a different culture, even in what seems like a fairly homogenous United States.

We arrived in Greenville around noon, where we leisurely ate lunch.  We were pleased with our position, having “ridden” 140 miles that day already, with about 70 left to go.  After lunch I approached a huge horse trailer and asked the two silent horsemen from Georgia if they would give Lars and I a ride.  They didn’t speak for what seemed like 5 min, finally muttering that, “there’s a lotta’ meanness goin’ around…” and that they would talk about it over their lunch.  After emerging, one of the horsemen introduced the other as, “the meanest man in Georgia.”  Lars and I both immediately considered the fact that we weren’t actually in Georgia, but didn’t tell the men our thoughts.  As soon as we loaded into the cab, the man in the front placed a sheathed knife between himself and the driver, I suppose as a warning to us shady bikers in case we tried to pull anything funny.  I smiled to myself as he put the knife away about halfway through the ride as they both warmed up to us.

After saying goodbye to our final ride, we rode the final 1/2 mile to the Poarch Creek Community Church, where we stayed Thursday afternoon through Sunday to rest my knees.  As we rode, I recounted the events of the past couple of days in my head.  The difficulty and uncertainty of hitching, the many different types of people we met, the split-second choice that people made to pick us up, the good fortune of finding people headed the same way we were, and all the continued hospitality we were shown along the way.  It is hard for me not to acknowledge the protection and guidance of God throughout such a process, and I’m not sure it would have been possible otherwise.  I am slowly learning how to hand over my current position, condition, and outlook to God, allowing space for the unexpected.  I welcome your prayers for our minds and bodies as we continue to exercise both.