Fact: Two wheels are better than four

Instead of packing up all of my belongings in anticipation of leaving Kentucky on Sunday, not to return for probably a year, I decided I had better get on here and rap about how ridiculously awesome my new bike is going to be on this trip. I just sold my truck to buy this trusty steed:



Well, not this exact bike but one just like it. I'm afraid old Rosie with her aluminum frame and skinny tires just isn't stout enough to make this trip.

Now: This bike needs a name. Surly calls it the Long Haul Trucker, and for good reason. This bike is STRONG and TOUGH, and pretty, too! So it needs a name that will reflect both its kinetic poetry and mule-like qualities (beautiful, tough, stubborn - oh, sorry, I thought we were talking about me for a second. Just kidding). I'm torn between leaving it to the best suggestion from ye faithful audience or letting the road name it, waiting to see what kind of personality he/she reveals to me as we crank out the first couple of hundred miles together. I'm thinking along the lines of Viking or Greek Gods, but other suggestions are always welcome.

Some ideas:
Odin: King of the Norse Gods and the God of warriors and battle, but also of wisdom and poetry
Idun: The Viking Goddess of spring and immortal youth
Saga: Goddess of sacred poetry, charms, words of power, and drinking partner of Odin
Agrius: Greek giant who was half-man, half-bear
Alala: Spirit of the war cry
Ourea: Gods of mountains



Other things I forgot to mention in the first post:

1. I LOVE sending postcards. So, if you want some, email me your address and I will send you one as often as you like.
2. If you know anyone along the way you think I should meet, or would be willing to house me for a night, tell me! Here is my route:
http://www.adventurecycling.org/routes/southerntier.cfm
3. Similarly, if you know of any cool things on this route I would be a fool to miss, namely, BREWERIES and GOOD RESTAURANTS, holler loudly in the appropriate direction, send smoke signals, please, please, please, do what you have to do to guide me to the good beer!!.
4. I would just like to take this opportunity to say how happy I am I'm not riding through Kansas.
5. I am a fan of lists. Expect them often
6. Advanced apology to all those who will be assaulted by my stench in the public libraries I will frequent.

Must go do something productive. I will leave you with another poem. I promise I won't do this every time. Thanks for reading!

Packing is dumb,
Jess

Ode to Bicycles
by Pablo Neruda

I was walking
down
a sizzling road:
the sun popped like
a field of blazing maize,
the
earth
was hot,
an infinite circle
with an empty
blue sky overhead.

A few bicycles
passed
me by,
the only
insects
in
that dry
moment of summer,
silent,
swift,
translucent;
they
barely stirred
the air.

Workers and girls
were riding to their
factories,
giving
their eyes
to summer,
their heads to the sky,
sitting on the
hard
beetle backs
of the whirling
bicycles
that whirred
as they rode by
bridges, rosebushes, brambles
and midday.

I thought about evening when
the boys
wash up,
sing, eat, raise
a cup
of wine
in honor
of love
and life,
and waiting
at the door,
the bicycle,
stilled,
because
only moving
does it have a soul,
and fallen there
it isn't
a translucent insect
humming
through summer
but
a cold
skeleton
that will return to
life
only
when it's needed,
when it's light,
that is,
with
the
resurrection
of each day.

Commence

Greetings and salutations! You have suddenly found yourself thrown (willingly?) into the middle of a murky pond, a primordial soup, if you will, of bicycle travel documentation. It is not unlike the murky pond your father threw you into when you were a child to teach you how to swim. Like you, I am unsure whether I will, out of necessity, learn to tread water and even out-swim the snapping turtles or, floundering, sink to the bottom and have an underwater tea party with primitive creatures. Ok, maybe a tea party in primordial soup would be unlikely, but my point is it will be an adventure either way and you will experience it as unexpectedly as I.
This I do know: As I prepare for this solo cross-country pedal-a-thon,I often find myself thinking, "wow, this is going to be so great!", which is immediately followed by the devil (or could it be an angel? - no, on second thought, it's probably a miniature version of my parents) on my shoulder shouting something like, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!" That devil has been seconded by several people close to me. Well, it's a good thing I learned to be stubborn at an early age.

Now, for some specifics:
* Date of departure: Tentatively, February 17th
* Duration: ~2 months
* Intensity: On scale of Drinking Mai Tais on a beach in Hawaii to Pooping my Pants out of fear, I'm gonna have to go with: Part I will need a beer and ice cream at the end of every day or I will lose my mind, part I am feeling awesome. 50/50
* Frequency: ~6 days a week
* Average miles per day: ~70
* Accomodations: Mostly camping with occasional hotels and warmshowers.org hosts.
* Calories I will need to consume daily to avoid attempting to throw my bicycle into a precipice in a fit of low blood sugar: ~6,000
* Pounds I will lose: Probably 20
* Chaffing: Yes, let's be honest, it will happen and I will write about how much it sucks.
* Cursing: Fair warning - there will be a few days it cannot be avoided.
* Estimated number of dogs I will spray with mace daily, broken down by state:
Florida: 1
Alabama: 3
Mississippi: 8
Louisiana: 17
Texas: 4
Arizona: 2
New Mexico: 1
California!: 2
* Odds I will run into Chuck Norris in Texas: 5%
* Chance of loneliness: 60%
* Highest point: 8,500 feet
* Lowest point: ~ -200 feet (Imperial Valley, CA)
* My weather prediction: 50-60 in FL, LA, MS, AL, FREAKING HOT in TX, Warm in AZ, Hot and Cold in NM, varying with elevation, mostly Warm in CA. Rain on every day I reaaaally don't want it to rain.
* How I will react when I see the Pacific Ocean again: Lots of crying, smiling, laughing, and flipping off the high mountains I just came over. I will also crack a ceremonial beer and pour the vial of Atlantic ocean water I will carry with me across the country into the Pacific ocean (provided there is no risk of transporting anything that will be an ecological disaster). Then I will get on a train and go to San Francisco because coastal southern California sucks.

Things you might expect from this blog:
* Daily stats
* Photos of weird things that fascinate me
* Photos of giant plates of food that don't fill me up coupled with snide remarks about how I can eat whatever I want and it doesn't even matter, mwahaha. Just kidding. I'll probably only make snide remarks once.
* Daily experiences with dogs, locals, and nature
* Photos of me on my bike and next to state line signs, jumping in the air and looking like a dork.
* Thoughts on the state of the union intermingled with thoughts on how long it has been since I've showered and how OK I am with that length of time.
* I'm not too philosophical, but with all that head time, head's up, it's coming.
* A running tally of how many times I get honked at in Alabama.
* And, most importantly, the daily comment on how much fun I'm having, balanced perfectly, in accordance with natural laws, by the comment on how much I hurt and would just like to sleep for three days, undisturbed.

Well, folks. I have ranted and raved enough for this introductory piece of mind. But it is a taste of what is to come. I hope you will enjoy following along. Oh, I almost forgot. I will be posting addresses where you may mail me letters, trinkets, messages of love and encouragement, whatever your heart desires that can either be eaten or will fit on a bike. I'll look to have one up about once every week or two. I look forward to reading your comments and words of encouragement as I inch my way across this great country. I leave you with an airy ode to my absolute favorite part of bicycling: The Downhill! And the namesake of this blog

Going down Hill on a Bicycle, A Boy's Song
By Henry Charles Beeching
1859-1919

WITH lifted feet, hands still,
I am poised, and down the hill
Dart, with heedful mind;
The air goes by in a wind.

Swifter and yet more swift,
Till the heart with a mighty lift
Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:--
'O bird, see; see, bird, I fly.

'Is this, is this your joy?
O bird, then I, though a boy
For a golden moment share
Your feathery life in air!'

Say, heart, is there aught like this
In a world that is full of bliss?
'Tis more than skating, bound
Steel-shod to the level ground.

Speed slackens now, I float
Awhile in my airy boat;
Till, when the wheels scarce crawl,
My feet to the treadles fall.

Alas, that the longest hill
Must end in a vale; but still,
Who climbs with toil, wheresoe'er,
Shall find wings waiting there.