turn and face the strange

Now staying with Rebecca in the Mission, which is a totally different neighborhood from Gloria's.

On Friday I took the Caltrain down to Google and Stanford, where I had Google lunch with Phil (hooray tasty) and cleaned bike and rode with Max (hooray nutella). Thanks guys. Google is younger and Stanford more brown and taupe than expected. They never checked for my fare (which I did pay for) on the train, which is just one other way it's nicer than NJ Transit. Recognizing the similarities between H-S the Younger and Nick was both unnerving and amusing.

There's a difference between the foci of thoughts of road alone time and surrounded by people alone time. For me I think it's simply recognizing and analyzing personal goals and shortcomings (e.g. who do I want to be in 5 years) versus inter-personal ones (e.g. how do I treat the people I want to be around in 5 years).

I watched "Into the Wild" yesterday and walked out horribly depressed and started to cry. Emile Hirsch's character's too-late epiphany, "HAPPINESS IS ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED," was like a knife stabbed right on the nose of this party-of-one traveler.

But, I just can't wait to get back home and put such thoughts into action. I want to re-invigorate the relationships I have with friends and family (i.e. you guys), especially because I've been a bit of a drag in the last few months. Before I find work, I promise I will be taking road trips (I miss my car!) and sharing beers, lobster rolls, a bowl with with, BBQ, and mostly laughs with many of you.

I should really upload some pictures from my camera to my computer. So many sights so much more interesting than these words! I should do the flickr or picasa thing....

Good news: today is the Folsom Street Fair, "the grand daddy of all leather events." Jessie Spano really expresses my feelings about this best. click, it's great.

San Francisco has been great!

I've been doing a whole lot and seeing a whole lot. Open up a Frommer's guide and look at the "Best of San Francisco" itineraries for 2 days. I did all of that.

Don't really have time to say anything, and the number of pictures I've taken is "lots."

Something I didn't take a picture of yesterday was the Chinese man who took my ticket for "Across the Universe" at the movie theater. He had two right thumbs, a small, crooked thumb coming out of the base of his functioning thumb. In the bathroom it hit me that there was a point in history where this man would have made it into a Ripley's Believe It or Not! comic, especially considering Robert Ripley's "Oriental fetish." He'd have been famous, but now he takes tickets.

So much of our lives is about timing, folks.

Okay!

I'm in San Francisco. I'll figure this place out yet. I'm hungry. Gotta figure out what to do!

Thanks to Bill and Eric on the road for helping me get to the Golden Gate and for asking questions and telling me about the area. Thanks to Rich for answering his phone and texting me directions to Gloria's place.

Gua huh?

Currently in the unincorporated coastal community of Gualala, just about 120 miles north of San Francisco. Riding was good today. This terrain is brilliant, basically short, steep rolling hills all the time. Lovely views, lovely sights, lovely nearly-interchangeable coastal weekend resort towns full of tsotchkes made of glass or wood drawing inspiration from indigenous cultures, Pacific marine life, or 60's ideals.

I spoke to a woman named Colby who volunteers at the local community art gallery. She didn't want a picture taken, but I believe her story is one not unfamiliar to a community like this. Born in Florida, she lived in Australia for many years, Spain for six years, and Plainsboro, NJ (near Princeton) for a while before (I assume) striking it big during the dotcom boom (she and her "we" [husband?] were both software engineers working with VoIP startups, so I'm making some assumptions). She retired and moved here in 1999 and loves it. In deciding where to settle, she flew out to SF, then just drove up to Seattle looking for a place to be, and this area was her favorite. Something about the Sea Ranch community and the people it draws. No one is actually from here, so being transplants bonds them all.

Yes, lovely, lazy place. A place to get a massage and take a bath or something. Tomorrow, I'll be within sniffing distance of SF. Excited? Excited.

the company you keep

Thanks to the friends who continue to support me when things go pear-shaped in my head. Without you, I would still be whimpering in a field of cows in Tillamook.

Fort Bragg is apparently a resort town that is crazy-go-nuts during the summer. Sport fishers and such. Mendo Bistro is pretty great, and they give you fake tattoos with your check. Right now, though, the town is pretty grey. There's a fully-stocked lumber yard here that's supposedly been abandoned for years that no one wants to/can raze and develop because the ground is literally toxic.

Really, all I got to see is this. It's pretty representative. There's a cat in the grass. jesuschristitsaliongetinthecar!!!one


Hope you're having a good one.

playing through pain

About a week ago, my right knee was hurting. I wanted to quit, but knew I couldn't do so outright, and so I deliberately did things to stress it -- funny motions while I pedaled, climbing while standing with bad form in a huge gear, etc. Of course, I wised up and I never really wanted to hurt myself. Now my knees don't bother me at all.

Today, though, I had a strange feeling in my chest. It wasn't pain per se, and it wasn't breathing tightness. It is (it persists) like I can feel my heart, and it feels like the size of a walnut, and it can't do anything. And really, it couldn't. Climbs I'd normally roll up at 13 mph felt like I was riding through tar at 8 mph.

I'm not worried for my health as I know it's just fatigue. But I stopped riding. And yet I'm closer to SF. I think I'm a fraud.

There's songs about this stuff.

We're in Garberville, CA, on what I think is the lower edge of redwood country. I just had Chinese food, which reminded me that I don't miss it too much. However, there are no substitutes for fortunes like this.
Like rain on my wedding day. More generally, I think a good fortune in the same vein would be "Eat less greasy Chinese food." "Call your mother more often." "Don't forget that 20% is now the standard tipping rate." One can go on.

Redwoods are faaaaaaantastic. I definitely needed a pep talk after the cold day, and I got a few. The next day's ride helped. I got to see awesome things.

And some pretty transcendental things.

And all these things were enormous. THAT'S LIKE TWO TREES IN ONE ZOMG

It's strange to think of where I was a week ago. Tillamook? Wow, yeah, what a crappy night. I'm a bit saddened that I've temporarily given up on the whole interviewing people project. It's great that Seth, the one with the awesome "dash cam," actually checked in on me and wrote about me in his blog. Hurrah! And Ryan, who I never mentioned but spent an hour talking to in Astoria, is now a facebook friend (!). Oh, lemme talk about him.

He just graduated from U of Oregon and should hopefully be in Spain by now as he was supposed to leave on Tuesday to be an Auxiliar for a year in Valladolid, helping teach English and American Culture to Spanish kids. I saw him at dinner playing some very good Spanish classical guitar. Thinking about it, other than "professionals" and my own brother in his heyday, he's the best one I've seen, tackling some difficult pieces I'd never heard live, much less in a restaurant in Astoria, Oregon. Apparently he'd been playing there since he was 17, coming back to play during vacations and summers. A wonderful way he's tracked his improvement is by noticing that, over the years, his tips have improved remarkably. I could go on, but here's a good guy. We thought it was an amusing pose.
And yes, he plays piano, too. Very well, all improvised.

Anyway, this would be a good place to start talking to people again, but I'm pretty sure the only people on the street in Garberville are really rough lumberjack types and really drugged up but often friendly hippie types. Forsooth:
I'm not necessarily afraid, I'm just too tired to put in the effort. Something about love being made and taken though.

Finally, the saddest thing. Remember Hobbiton USA? After todays ride, still clad in spandex, I arrived. The place was closed. And not just for the night.

This trip is also about dealing with disappointments. I hope this is the last and biggest one. San Francisco is very close!

Still cold.

Quick fifty-five today, but got-damn if it wasn't the worse day since the weekend. Why? Because it's still cold. I'm in California, in Crescent City, but so far that just means there are more cars and agriculture. It's still cold. Accuweather RealFeel of 51 degrees, in fact. That's 57 accounting for some windchill and such. I wonder how many more degrees I get to knock down for being on a bike. OH JUST GIVE ME SOMETHING

Northwest Cable News confirmed my suspicions by stating that temperatures are anywhere from 6 to 10 degrees cooler than usual for this time of year throughout the Northwest. Very pleasant if you drive and walk around! People love sweater weather, and autumnal gusts are wonderful if you're standing with a group of friends, huddling! But these things suck when you've got a 6-inch shoulder and you're going 38 mph down a curvy road. And every other vehicle passing you is an RV or truck creating its own climate system in its wake.

It's a shame that all I can think about or notice is the wind and cold. This would have been a great car road trip. I miss enjoying my bicycle. Still, this is okay.


Whatever, I'm in California. I should feel happy about that, even if I see that NY will be having temps in the low 80s for the next few days. WTF I SHOULD HAVE STAYED OUT EAST I AM MISSING THE BEST AUTUMN WEATHER

Doping with nature

I always thought that, despite being hefty for a cyclist, I was more of a climber than anything else. I'm no Charly Gaul, but at least I find enjoyment and satisfaction in going up hills. This last week has reaffirmed this notion for me -- if I'm not going up hills, flat riding's just not super awesome.

However, having a huge tailwind at your back, pushing you along at 22 mph up hills, 29 mph on flats is something I won't argue with. 50 miles covered in 2.5 hours had me feeling like a small beast. Having this wind turn on me while browsing fine myrtlewood crafts, and subsequently covering 25 miles in just under 2 hours, had me feeling like I should wear these.

It seems that I'm moving quickly enough that this will be my last night in Oregon. At dinner, a family of raccoons came to our window, and I saw both a sea lion and a sea otter in the restaurant's pier. This felt appropriate. I will miss this state, even if it decided to be extra cold while I was here. Probably a way to dupe me into returning when the weather is finer.

This was my favorite sight today. This is at the entrance to the Prehistoric Gardens, which I'll have to return to if I want to say I lived a full life.

Finally, I want to let the TRC know that I have been eating my candy immediately following every ride. Really. They're called Flicks. They're basically milk chocolate nonpareils without the nonpareils. Would this make them pareils? Anyway, the website says they beat Hershey Kisses in a taste test, but that's like saying you beat a 1992 Ford Taurus Station Wagon in a drag race. Not taking anything away from the Taurus, a fine vehicle, but it's no Reese's PB Cup, 5th Avenue, or Skor.
I was immediately leery of the fact that the company describes the candy as a "chocolate-flavored wafer" instead of "chocolate." The next eyebrow-raiser was the warning that this candy was a choking hazard. Unusual, but they make a point -- all food minus jell-o should come with that warning. Perhaps a sign at the entrance to all groceries: CHOKING HAZARD ZONE.

Finally, I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who helped me reach my fundraising goal. It's quite strange to think anyone would take any inspiration from me, but I'm really happy to know that so many friends and friends-of-friends think I'm doing something good. What I'm doing wouldn't really be worth anything to the world if you guys weren't so giving.

Signing off in Gold Beach, where the stars are lovely.

o happy life

I almost forgot to mention that September 17th marks the one-year anniversary of when I probably could have died when Thunderbird hit me on my bike. I'm glad I'm still here. Here are some flashback specials.

My bike, mangled.

And something I didn't notice till later: the piece of windshield in my arm that I didn't know about till I took a shower (after I wrote an email to either work or my buddies). This is a crop of that part of my arm, from a bigger picture. The glinty piece of glass in the middle of that little wound = YEAH!

So that's all. I'm very happy to be alive right now.

It opens.

Things were so great today that even though I take crap photos, I'll try to talk less. I think I know why I was so pissed the other day: turns out my front brake had come a bit loose and was rubbing the front wheel, reminiscent of Armstrong's 2003 Tour technical snafu. That basically means my brakes were on like the entire time. Very annoying!

Today was a beautifully foggy start in Yachats. I really like that place tons.

This was within the first 30 minutes of the ride. You can throw a rock and find views like this out here.

No matter how many times I see trees grow this way on cliffsides, I will always marvel at how the ocean breeze shapes them.

You can't eff up pictures of these things too badly, right? I'm not that bad?

This crane was all alone

on this enormous beach.

This is Seth. He's from Omaha, Nebraska. He just finished up a year at Parsons (NYC holla), moved back to NE, and is doing a hugely awesome road trip. He has this incredibly sweet HD camcorder he's set up in the front seat of his car to take a picture every 15 seconds of his drive from Omaha to Portland to LA and back to Omaha. It will be one awesome time-lapse drive. You can learn a bit about him at his blog.

Things got very sunny. Still being cold in the shade, I dressed in many layers. Overwarm is better than too cold.


Finally, I got to walk over the McCullough Bridge, leading me into North Bend/Coos Bay, hometown of Pre. Gusty as hell up there, which you might hear in the video (which doesn't seem to work! Damn beta features!!) (oh, now it works. great!).

So yes, greetings from Coos Bay. I feel good, and if I feel as good tomorrow as I did today, then sure, why not another 70+. This might end up putting me way ahead of schedule. I feel complicated about that.

I'm back.

I haven't died, but I did nearly quit. Just as I predicted weeks ago, the loneliness nearly shut me down. The unseasonably cool 60 degree temperatures and nearly persistent mist and rain broke me. Cresting a hill to see the Pacific is never uninspiring, but the accompanying ocean breeze that chills you to your guts did have me chanting "fuck you" at the ocean for a good minute going up the biggest climb on the Oregon coast. I realized I prefer mountains and climbing hills both for scenery (I now dream of the Blue Ridge Parkway) and the meditative aspect of climbing, when the exertion keeps you warm. I also realized, while chanting, that I should take a break. Thanks to Mr. E for talking me down.

Anyway, took it easy today, so tomorrow I'll be as ready as I'll ever be for 70+ miles alone on a cold, rainy day. Anyway, here's some mildly interesting stuff.

This is a shot of the Tillamook cheese factory. The cheddar is fantastic! The blocks in the lower left corner are 40 lbs. each; I learned this by overhearing a large woman ask her son if he remembered that the blocks were 40 lbs. each from the last time they visited the cheese factory. The last time they visited the cheese factory. This place isn't Disneyland. It's not even Noah's Arkade. As much as I love cheese, I don't know that I'd go out of my way to visit this place numerous times, even with the awesomely-named-but-what-the-hell-is-it Cheddarmaster. Well, actually, the cheese curds were great. Foot in mouth, accompanied by a bag full of delicious curds!

A reasonably nice view from some hill, looking north towards Tillamook Bay (on the right edge), maybe outside of Netarts or Oceanside.

Keep going up, then go down a big hill, then hit Sandlake, which is a lake of sand. Awesome.
Something about this place is totally sweet. Apparently a population of 25, seems to be a popular place to camp for both bikers and cyclists alike. The sand is playground for ATVs (on the right). Sometimes, I wish I grew up a big hick.

I have some pictures of nice beaches and this wonderful rocky bit of coast here in Yachats (YAH-hots), but the pictures of the nice beaches are not nice. I'm also not talking up the beauty here. It's unspeakably gorgeous, even with the shit weather. Yes, on the right, the Pacific, but on the left, evergreen covered "mountains" (is 2000 ft a mountain? Yes?), and straight ahead an unending procession of small and wonderful coastal towns, each with their own characters (despite all serving mostly fried seafood in the restaurants). I would recommend everyone I know to do this (probably as a drive, definitely in better weather) with someone they love very much. And I'm not even halfway done with this state's coast yet.

oh, btw

This town, Tillamook, has a lovely aroma. Cow manure with hints of Pacific bay breeze. Someone should market this and give this town something else to be proud of.

Only losers give up, loser.

I'm not sure, but I think I feel horrible. Nothing interesting today, folks, if ever there was in the first place.

I'm in Tillamook, OR. I rode the slowest 70 miles of my life to get here. I couldn't find my legs for the first 45 miles or so. Odd how the legs just decide to start working when they feel like it on days after big rides. The day I got hit by a car last year followed a century day, I didn't find my legs until after 55 miles. I remember sending Cara a text saying something like "I'm finally moving fast!" Then about 10 miles later, 3 miles from the finish, I got my shit fucked. But it was one of the best days of my life. C'est la vie.

Anyway, they've got cheese here in Tillamook. It's very good, but I ate, no exaggeration, a quarter pound of squeaky cheese, which is probably the cause of my feeling horrible. Packed with calcium and squeak, but a squeaky tummy is not a healthy one, even if such toys make great baby shower gifts.

On kinder notes, the Pacific is beautiful. A few times today I thought, "I don't want to do this anymore," right before cresting a ridge to see exactly why I should keep going. Even so, things would be better if they were sunny and warm and I had a friend to talk to. Of course, that's a rule for life in general, not just for the road.

Cheer up, grumpy bear. At least you've got one thing you love!

Highs and lows. Greetings from Seattle... no, wait, greetings from Astoria, OR

Hello, Justin.
Hello, everyone else.
Okay, so I'm Oregon now. I didn't expect to be here, but I'll get to that.

Seattle is a wonderful town and I wish I could have seen more of it. It would be a great place to spend a long weekend. While there, I stayed with my friend Jesse, with whom I went to both high school and college. She works for an environmental non-profit and lives with a few wonderful hippie-types. They've got a rad teepee in their backyard.

I also met this guy, Schuyler.

He's the son of the owners of the Sunflour Bakery and Cafe, a great place on 65th St. NE where I had breakfast and a chocolate chip cookie. He's about to head back to school, where he's majoring in International Business. He grew up a few blocks from the bakery and has been working there for 8 years. When I asked if he'd like to move from Seattle, he answered "oh, definitely." He also doesn't want to end up inheriting the family business, as owning a restaurant has so many stressful quirks in addition to being a "slave to the business." He's hoping to study abroad in either Australia or New Zealand. He has an uncle from Australia, and the pictures he's seen of the country have always impressed him. He's a very funny and nice guy, and I think we could have been friends.

This here is Mel, short for Melvin, but he goes by Mel.

He works at the counter of the Travel Inn of Centralia, WA. He's a fascinating guy, deeply interested in finding a spiritual path that will not only improve him, but also improve the world at large. I recorded our conversation, but it's upwards of an hour, so I can't upload or even listen to the whole thing again right now. He's originally from Seattle and used to work in Computers and electronics (his business was called Hi-Fi Guy), but moved to Centralia for the space and quiet about 2 years ago, following his bad divorce. I can tell you that he's trying to write a book/gospel, The Book of the Word, inspired/guided by many of the dreams and instructions he's received by someone he has decided can only be God.

He's a big fan of the teachings of Jesus, and really believes it all boils down to just loving one another. He told me two very intense stories, only one of which I can barely remember. He came out one night to see a young woman in the passenger seat of a car, being held by her hair and punched in the face by her boyfriend. Mel called the cops, and they showed up and took the boyfriend and his car away, leaving this girl alone with no money or ID (her wallet was in the car!). Mel couldn't let her stay in the inn as much as he wanted to, but did find out that she had some family many towns over, accessible by a few buses and trains. He gave her what he had, a few 20's, I believe, and put her on the next Greyhound. When she got to where she needed to be, she called to tell him she wasn't able to buy an Amtrak ticket b/c she had no ID. I believe she ended up begging and pleading to be able to buy a ticket, and called Mel eventually to tell him that she finally found her way to her family's place. Something like that. eek.

Then I rode 80 miles. It was cold and wet the whole time. A few long, gradual climbs. The biggest hill was one I went down, and I think I ended up maxing out at 48 mph. Fun. What're not fun are logging trucks. They're huge and don't slow down one bit. Their slipstream/backwash/whatever, pulls you all over the road.

My father and I ended up at Cathlamet, a small town of about 500. After a late lunch, I ended up talking to Ashley. We spoke for about 5 minutes, but I've edited her audio down and included pretty much all my Cathlamet pictures. Here's my first audio slideshow ever. After spending hours using a million different programs trying to get something to work, here's the crap I have!!

[that'll go here. ] [oh, it's actually below]

We ended up leaving Cathlamet because there was no place to stay. Then it turned out there was no place to stay in the next town on the map, either. Here's where I cheated, but I was definitely enabled by my dad. Sigh. We drove the 20 odd miles to Astoria, which is a really nice town. There's like a lot happening here, relatively speaking. The drive put me on my preferred itinerary, but now I'm going to be crazy early getting into SF. I guess that's alright with me....

Okay, I'm exhausted. good night.

Is this it.

My flight leaves in 4.5 hours.

I think I'm the last person to recognize how life-changing this ride will really be. Hopefully you folks will be able to recognize me when I come back in (hopefully less than) 6 weeks.

I'm hoppin' nervous. I'm 90+% packed right now and rushing out to grab lunch at the Summit Diner.

Thanks to everyone for everything. See you on the flipside.

Cheating

I've been struggling with the idea that I'm totally cheating on this ride. I'm staying in hotels, which would be normal if I were a wealthy middle-aged man. But, I thought this was "supposed" to be about new experiences, and I already know I like beds with minty pillows.

Part of me wants to make up for the first of two camping trips I've taken in my life. I was a Webelos on his first father/son overnight. We made it through dinner and campfire stories. At bedtime, I saw a spider in our tent, went bug-eyed, and woke up an hour and a half later in my bed at home. I felt both horrible and clever accepting the merit badge for that trip.

I've already bought tons of nice camping gear and now really wish I had accepted any of the numerous offers I had to camp with Someone both knowledgeable and lovely over the last year and a half. Stupidly, I just couldn't shake the image of the spider on the wall next to my bag. Why I didn't say to myself, "Eric, you're not 10 anymore" is beyond me. Alas, older and wiser. And sleeping comfortably in random lodges, knowing I won't wake up wearing a wig, being spooned by a man with no shoes or teeth.

New "problem." Now my dad wants to join me for the first week, as a support vehicle, essentially. He won't follow me in the Team Encarnacion rented station wagon everywhere, but he'll be around if my rear derailleur explodes in the wilderness. Or if I "need" a ham sandwich and a new water bottle. And there, I suddenly feel even less independent and self-sufficient, still a spoiled 25 year-old "kid," probably still using a sippy cup.

OR is this really just a great opportunity to bond with my dad? He gets to see the Pacific Northwest, I get ham sandwiches and conversation. I sure hope it doesn't effect my "productivity." I think I know it won't, that it really is only a good thing; after all, I'll still be alone for the last 3 weeks of the trip, save for when I end up stealing Gollum.

So I'm not really cheating now, am I? This is just an opportunity to share adventure, making it greater, right? Play with the poll on the right. I need confirmation! But be honest! Polling ends on 9/11.

A post for its own sake

I'm writing this so that this blog is more than just an introduction. Right now, though, I have little to say. The real thing will be better. If not, then I'm living my life wrong!

Three Small Things Tangentially Related to My Ride

I.
My cousin buzzed my head last week. Here are the shorn locks, with my hand on top for a sense of scale.


If you so desired, you'd have a lot to work with if you wanted to hurt me.

People have responded well to the buzzcut, but I find it very unexciting after the initial act. There is an entire industry, scientific and pseudo-scientific, dedicated to keeping and encouraging the growth of hair in men. With that in mind, I don't know why a man with thick and healthy hair (omg i'm so gorgeous!) would voluntarily go nearly bald other than for practicality or "starting over." I do save a few ounces of weight going uphill on my bike now, and my helmet keeps me cooler (and fits worse). But as a dude, it entirely lacks the statement (good or bad) made by women who buzz/shave. A guy who buzzes normally may now respond "I prefer making my statements with my actions and words, not my hair." Fair enough. You are also saving money and time by not having to shampoo. Congratulations! But know that this dull haircut which I now sport is boring enough to put me to sleep before you make your lofty statement.

II.
I did my first hill repeats in over 3 months today. Intervals and hill repeats are great. Even when I was a fat kid who played tennis and basketball, I enjoyed killing myself during conditioning drills as others began whining or stopping. I do believe in the BS-reward of pushing your physical limits doing endurance sports training. After June, though, I shut down for any number of reasons and only took long, lazy rides. I guess I learned that an hour or two of self-inflicted suffering is more about your head than your legs and lungs.

If you were a poor Frenchman in the 50's who ate hay for dinner, then maybe training was an escape, a less miserable misery or a form of rainbow chasing. If you're a guy in your mid-20's working at a hedge fund but still living at home, then maybe it's partly self-flagellation and shameful penance. Maybe this summer, worried about my love, my future, my lack of income, I've related more to the average person who *gasp* has real problems, someone who'd look at this and say "fuck that! Why would I put myself through that?" With all that said, I don't think it's unreasonable to think that this ride is a bit of columns A and B for me.

III.
Finally, I have the feeling that over the course of this ride the new Okkervil River album will join The National's Boxer and The States' Path of Least Resistance as my most-listened-to albums of the year. The first track is just super and this track has a particularly creamy lyrical center as others have cared to examine. (That link has good music in it, so go there if you know what's good for you.)
---------------

I guess this is now a proper blog, huh?

An introduction

Hi folks,
I guess this is the part where I tell you what I'm doing. For the sake of simplicity and clarity, I will explain by answering the "W's + H."

Wine: okay!
Women: not now or anytime soon, thanks.
Huskies: do have beautiful blue eyes!

Yup.
No. Here we go.

Who: Me, Eric Encarnacion.
What: Riding my bicycle from Washington state to Tijuana, Mexico, partly for charity.
Where: I guess I'll be constantly moving, won't I? Generally, we can say I will be in America and that I will be on my bicycle.

When: On 9/11/7, I'm flying from Newark to Seattle, and I hope to start riding out of Centralia, WA on 9/13/7. It should take about 4 weeks to get to San Diego if I spend a long weekend in San Francisco, so I've booked a flight back to Newark on Saturday, 10/20/7.

Why: Well, as I mentioned, part of this is for charity. If you check out my donation page, you'll see that I'm raising money so that kids in Africa get to know firsthand how joyful, and practical, a bicycle can be.

Last year I did a lot of road-tripping and got to explore America's awesometude. Foot-long state fair corn dogs, frat boys literally pissing-themselves-drunk in Key West, hitch-hiking with Christian evangelicals, and the odd racist joke-threat are all enlightening in their ways. I'd like to document something about the cultures of the Pacific Coast as I travel closer to Mexico. To do that, I'll have two cameras: one for stills, one for talkies. I'll have this laptop and blog. I also have a winning smile and some nice kicks.

From a personal standpoint, the reasons are all-encompassing. Without getting into too much detail, the keystones of my life gave way, and I pretty soon realized that fear (of anything. name it) is what ultimately wore down my structures. I made nothing happen for myself. All I knew is that I loved doing two things in this world: riding bikes and playing guitars. And while I can certainly sit in the basement of my parent's house and do these things, I know that the only way I can change myself is to do something big, something that'll have my loved ones worrying about me. It's those tacky-but-true notions of exploring the world within and without. It's about leaving your comfort zone and following through with the ill-conceived ideas that become stories you tell your grandkids so they'll believe you were cool before you started crapping your pants.

How: You pedal a whole lot. What I'm doing is sticking this trailer to the back of my Orbea Orca. Yes, it's mildly offensive, like a Porsche hauling a hitch trailer, but whatever. In addition, I can't get away from my parents entirely, so I've [not-so] hesitantly agreed to let them pay for hotels so that I don't spend nights alone in sketchy campsites. No camping equipment means I can bring other fun toys.

This should be fun. Scary fun. Also, educational.
I've learned many lessons in the last 2 months, so it's time to put them into action. As LeVar would say, "I'll see you next time!"