"Oh the places you'll go..."

I met a man in Buenos Aires a number of years ago who shared with me a bicycle tale of epic proportions. Alec, as the English gentleman was called, had been a young man during England’s post World War II reconstruction, and as soon as he was able, had joined the service. Once enlisted, Alec met another young soldier who he soon discovered shared his affinity for bicycles, and the men became fast friends. They talked at great lengths of all the wondrous places and rides that awaited them, through France, Italy, all around the Mediterranean and then through the Middle East. They made grand plans to see the world on their bicycles.

Unfortunately, both men completed their service at different times, and in the time before Alec’s was finished, his mate had been swept along by a domestic life. Their epic ride was delayed and uncertain. As the years went by they kept in touch, always discussing what was possible… and bicycles… but over time their correspondences grew thinner, their bodies older, their lives more complicated.

And then many years later, Alec found himself on business travel to the small town north of London where he knew his friend to last reside. He planned to pay him a visit.

Upon reaching the house Alec was greeted by his friend’s wife, and the news that he had passed away barely a year prior. The moment stung. It was not only the loss of a dear friend, but of a quest unfulfilled.

His sympathies imparted upon his friend’s widow, Alec left an even older man unto himself, and one still short a great quest. Life had moved quickly. That walk alone back to his motel he was somber. His eyes stayed affixed to the short space ahead of his steps. Until he stopped.

There was Alec’s bicycle, with travel saddle bags and repair kit to boot, on display in a bicycle shop he had missed on his way there, ready for him. He walked in and bought it.

Once back in London, he quit his job, tied up loose ends, called his children to share his plans with them, and set off for the north of France, where his ride was to begin. He was in his mid sixties.

Alec and his bicycle made it through France and Italy, and the rest of southern Europe and the Slavic countries. He kept riding down around through Turkey, Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Jordan, until Egypt, where he broke his ride to rest his legs and fill in as deck hand on a boat that worked the Nile. The journey would continue, with Alec eventually making his way to India, and then Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam.

When Alec and I met he had since biked through over 100 countries on every continent save Antarctica. All along his way he was able to find abiding people to direct him to what he needed, if not offer him to share both food and home with them.

“I stayed off the highways best I could, you see,” he said with wisdom. “And I found that the ride offered me more that way.”

Bike Traveler

“Most people were interested, and since I was on my bike, I just kept pedaling if they were loony. Never really needed to be afraid for much. Besides keeping an eye on the bike.” Many times people offered him a space to camp so they could share in his travels. A man on his bicycle was no unnatural thing, but indeed an enviable way to see the world.

“Truth is America was where I felt least welcomed, and most unsafe. There were many parts where my riding seemed more to annoy than please. Everyone moves too bloody fast in oversized vehicles, distracted and fat. Not everywhere, course, but many parts.”

It has been a number of years since Alec rode through the US, so I am sure he would be happy to know that things are improving.

At least in terms of how many of us, including the US Secretary of Transportation, regard riding one’s bike as a legitimate and indeed honorable way to travel.

Ride your bike, it’s good for you. It’s good for the planet.