“Boy you sure do have a lot on that bike.” About five different people said that to me today as I rode past them on the path. After the fifth person, I decided to take a few minutes and examine everything I have on my bike. Everything I’ve carried through deserts and over snowcapped mountains. Everything I’ve lived off of for the past eight months. There is quite a bit indeed. For eight months I could literally carry everything I needed to survive, and to be quite honest it’s the happiest I think I’ve ever been. It’s a pretty common idea that the accumulation of goods doesn’t equate to happiness. Everyone knows that. So I don’t feel it is necessary to write about. Rather, I want to write about my newfound habit. Because I have so little, I find it increasingly difficult to depart with any of my possessions. For example, I have a pair of moccasins that each has a hold the size of a quarter in the sole. I even had to begrudgingly purchase another pair of shoes, yet I still am carrying my moccasins. I have an emotional tie to them. I have trekked over the red rocks of Moab in those shoes. I climbed over boulders in Joshua Tree National park in those shoes. There’s still remnants of white paint on the laces from my days of working as a painter in Los Angeles. I love those shoes. But I realize I am a hoarder. On the most miniscule scale, possibly ever. Because I carry so little, I value the things I carry. Everything has its own special placement within my panniers. Any one item that’s misplaced or out of order could wreak havoc on my mini cosmos. There are some people on this planet who have never seen an iPhone. They have no idea who Kim Kardashian is. They have no concept of ownership. I want to be those people…but I still want my bike, and my ipod, and my etc. etc. etc.
Over the past couple days, I have island hopped through various beach towns. Today I rode through one called Alys Beach. Two pure white pillars greet you as you enter the town. Literally every single building commercial and residential alike is white. Pristinely groomed palm trees line the main street and two cobblestone paths run parallel to road on each side. I felt like I had stumbled upon the set of a David Lynch film. An eerie calm encompassed Alys Beach so I made it a point to stick around and absorb it. I knew what awaited me after this beach. Panama City. It is currently spring break for most students and Panama City seems to be the central hive. Although there is no anarchy and partying out in the streets. Instead it is rather tame and orderly. This disappointed me. I could tolerate the droves of people if they were acting belligerently. At least I’d have something to watch. No, instead they just stood in the middle of the bike path and displayed benign presence. This is not the spring break MTV promised 13 year old Tom. However there were many young women in bikinis prancing around. I felt like a perverted Dean Moriarity as I gawked; tongue out at the female form in all its glory. Ugh. Of all the drugs I’ve taken, nothing compares to the high of the gentle caress of a woman’s touch. I will forever be shackled by my inability to suppress these primal, carnal urges. This is not a blog about my bicycle trip across America. This is a blog about my half-baked, shoddy philosophical outlooks coupled with a brief summary of my sexual enterprises. NOT WORTH READING! NOT WORTH READING! I’m not even reading this as I type it. I really hope no one else is.
Last night I slept in the yard of a construction site. Tonight I’ll be sleeping in the woods between a Baptist Church and an elementary school. I miss my bed. But I know that if I were in my bed, I’d be missing that patch of woods between a Baptist church and an elementary school.
Something I haven’t experienced since August: morning dew.
I haven’t washed my body since New Orleans. Last night I smelled intolerable. Today, I still do, except I’ve come to terms with it. Human beings are not meant to emit these stenches.
The Strokes just released their fifth studio album this week. I listened to it and wasn’t blown away. I think I’ll have to give it another go around. Instead, I listened to my favorite Strokes song of all time about 20 times today. Oh man, as I was typing that a little kitty just approached me. Ok there are more important things to attend to than this blog. Enjoi:
Total Ascent: 964 ft.