At this point nothing should really arrive as a surprise to me but I’ll admit that my initial expectations for the people I’d meet during this midlife crisis adventure were (as they almost always are) lowww. There are enough stories about random hospitality for those on bicycle tours to fill libraries of books but surely that’s only for other countries, Greece / Mexico / Tajikistan / etc, rather than the good ol you ess of eyy?
Turns out nah most people are cool here too. Everyone either has a memory bank overflowing with stories to tell and / or plenty of room to gather whatever nonsense I felt like babbling on about while I scarfed down the leftover sandwich / pizza / apples they had just gifted me.
Occasionally uncomfortable but always refreshing, exchanging words with people aligned with the theory that traveling by bicycle is about being here rather than getting there. A safe place to stay or 50 miles worth of food may be the reward for allowing a right winged ramble instead of trying to explain to them wait but that’s literally fascism.
Engaging with life, accepting and tolerating all facets of it, is the entire point. The road and world is certainly a cruel teacher, tossing bad decisions back in my face without a shred of mercy. But time and time again patience and trust is rewarded with fuel for the legs / heart / soul.
