ESPN BMX

Back in 2000 or 2001, I went on Road Fools 8. It was an epic trip, in which I was inspired to write an intro, talking about all the places my bicycle had taken me. I had traveled the entire United states, and to Europe, but mostly by automobile or airplane. My bike hadn't literally taken me that far at all, maybe down the street or to the town over at best. Until recently, when I was invited to pedal a bicycle from Richmond, Virginia to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania along various bike routes and bike paths. I had never ridden more than 50 or 60 miles, was not in shape, nor prepared, but I decided to go for it. The recipe included bicycles, friends, camping and adventure, just like many of the BMX trips I've spent so many years doing. More so, it sounded like fun.

The first day started, with everyone on the trip meeting up for breakfast and some last minute dialing. The bike I used was a late '80s,/early '90s Nishiki Cascade MTB, with street tires, panniers, 50 some odd pounds of luggage and a $20 dollar two-person tent from Mart Mart. I also bought a handlebar bag that doubled as a travel juke box; that's where my iPod would sit. The six of us pedaled north on RT. 301 out of Richmond, and the adventure began. Riding through urban traffic is better than suburban traffic, but it's still a crapshoot. As we left town, we passed parks with Memorial Day ceremonies, fast food drive-thrus packed with cars and people mowing the grass in their yards. As population became more sparse, and the landscape more rural, I started noticing different things, like roadkill. Lots of it. Squished and flattened black snakes. It seemed like a lot at first, but then I realized, more often than snakes, there were alternator belts, windshield wipers, bungee cords, random black straps, and whatever else might fall off a car, stunt doubling as roadkill. Mostly, it was just litter though. I rolled up on several vultures partying on a deer carcass. I thought that was wild, until I saw two more vultures a few miles down the road, playing tug-o-war with a dead squirrel. Jeepers.

Washington D.C.

After several hours of cruising, realizing I was in for a long ride, feeling tired and hungry, we all stopped for a break at a roadside gas station. It wasn't an interstate stop with takeout, showers, truck parking and neon lights though. It was a family-owned wooden structure with homemade sandwiches, cold drinks, knives, daggers and an elderly Asian women at the counter. I bought some Gatorade, some deviled eggs and chilled on a picnic table with my friends. We had ridden some 50 miles, and it was now raining. Not Ideal, but half expected, so we continued on for 20 more miles, through Fredericksburg. On the ride into Fredericksburg, a car load of kids threw a Big Gulp out of the window, cruising by at 50 or so miles per hour. It missed my head by what seemed millimeters, and had the illusion of a missile rather than a fountain drink. I was mad. I then realized I was guilty of the same kind of idiocy when I was a teen-ager. Just shy of Quantico, VA, we booked a campsite, set up the tents in-between rain showers, and set up a buffet of dated backwoods grocery store food. Pretzels, moldy cheese, cheap beer, etc. Not so good, But maybe preferable to a night's sleep in a leaky tent I as about to experience.

Day Two

Waking up after hardly sleeping at all, downing a Clif Bar and hoping my shoes weren't soaked, led us to the campsite exit. Dressed in makeshift rain gear, we set off for the Nation's Capitol via US RT. 1. It was a hilly road, with limited room for a cyclist, high speed traffic, gnarly semi trucks, RV's and people texting and talking on their cell phones in sedans. Aside form those potential hazards, and a road littered with beer cans and fast food wrappers, it was a short 25 or so mile ride into headwinds and rain with roughly three flat tires among the group. Manageable.

Group shot.

After the hellride through suburban sprawl, we finally made it to the Mt. Vernon trail. Bike trails are amazing. They are quick, safe, maintained, and the scenery is a stark contrast to the litter and traffic on secondary roads. We rode the path another 25 or so miles, in relative proximity to a fast moving world of interstate traffic, seeing many of the same things I had traveled past and hardly noticed. Swamps, river beds, wildlife and more. The path went past the sites of DC. It was cool, the monument, the capitol, all was in sight. We even rode within spitting distance of Reagan International, eventually getting dumped off the trail into Georgetown, by the stairs from the move The Exorcist. We ended up staying with a friend. I was tired.

Day Three

The ride to Baltimore from DC in a car is probably less than 50 miles. We chose to go over to Annapolis, a town I had never been to, and get on the Rails to Trails bike bike path along an old defunct railroad path. The trip to Annapolis proved bumpy enough to break a spoke in my my back wheel, and cause enough wobble in my wheel to have to undo the brakes. (Kinda how Butcher rode before the brakeless revolution.) Any rate, I found a shop called Capital Bicycle, and a BMX dude named John helped me dial in my bike, and it was off to Baltimore. It was a good ride, and longer than we thought, but luckily the trail put us in the heart of one of Baltimore's many ghettos. Super tired, and not ready for kids chasing us down the street, we ended up in the harbor, getting a hotel, and eating at a sports bar called the ESPN Zone.

Day Four

En route to York, PA.

We woke up to a killer free breakfast and headed out of Baltimore towards York, PA. From what I can tell, someone decided to put Baltimore at the bottom of hill and surround it with ghetto neighborhoods. Leaving town was a chore. After 20 or so miles of slightly ascending busy roads, we got on another rail to trail path, the North Central rail. It was crushed stone, surrounded by foliage, streams, and slightly uphill all the way to the Mason Dixon Line. It kicked a**, and tired me out more than I wanted to admit. We arrived at Indian Gap Damn, where we had crappy dinner and laughed at bad jokes under a tin roof. We were then treated to one of the worst rainstorms of the season, and almost no sleep. Did I mention $20 tents are not really rain proof?

Day Five

I woke up in a puddle, with cramped legs, sleeping diagonal in a tent not quite big enough to stretch out in. Had an apple and packed the bikes. Headed east to Lancaster PA, through old towns and Amish villages. I have crossed the Susquehanna River a bazillion times, but never in Columbia PA, and hardly ever on a bike, so that was cool. Most of the day was warm and sunny, passing through Lancaster, and past it's sizeable prison, and then out of town. We were heading towards Kinzer, PA, on a road that transported huge trucks, horse buggies, zooming cars and Amish kids on scooters. It was fun until the worst rain/hail/wind storm took over our route, sending everyone into their respective shelters; a gas station, a Cracker Barrel, and myself, under an overhang of an old Amish barn, to wait out the brutality of mother nature. The storm made the road much more gnarly, and at one point, one of the riders hit a pothole, sliding in a puddle and crashed. The crash wasn't the worst, but the rubbernecking cars going by, not paying attention, caused a three-car pile up. No far ahead, and like an oasis, stood the Kinzer Inn, a roadhouse, with cheap beers and a roof, where we all had lunch and cold ones. We were soaked.

Day Six

Philadelphia in sight.

Woke up in a cabin to Amish kids hawking fresh strawberries. Ate some before packing up and making the final journey into Philadelphia. In a car it was close. But on a bike, facing endlessly rolling hills, and rural detours, it seemed far. West Chester reared its face regardless, after pedaling and noticing what seemed like a crumb trail of empties. Philadelphia appeared on the horizon, and Thin Lizzy came up on the shuffle, I was stoked. We rode in on Market Street through West Philly. Some of it seemed borderline sketchy at times, and we eventually made it to our friend's house for showers, and a jaunt to Dahlak for Ethiopian food, and eventually a night of catching up with good friends from the area.

Considering the elements, the hazards and difficulties, the hardest part was simply committing to the idea of pedaling real far. All in all, although unmeasured, I rode somewhere between 350 to 400 miles. None of us were particularly experienced cycling tourists, but we had a good time regardless and made it to our destination, all the while checking out a new perspective on travel and getting really sore butt cheeks.

For lack of a better description, it was, a different kind of Road Fools.

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