"Time means nothing now. It slips away as easily as grains of sand on a beach. But those grains only trade places. On my bike, I change the same way--new locations in the passage of time. The pedaling becomes incidental now--like breathing. No conscious effort--only flow. The hills and mountains come and go--my legs powering over them in a kind of winsome trance. Grappling with headwinds only brings determination, while riding a tail wind brings ecstasy. I transform into a state of bliss, much like a seagull gliding over the waves or floating on updrafts. I see them standing on the beaches or soaring over the surf. Just living. Just being. Me too!" Frosty Wooldridge, on the road.
At Clovis, New Mexico, the road flattened! No more hard "play'! Never hit my granny gear for the rest of the ride! But a new challenge awaited: heat and humidity.
We pedaled into Texas for seven days crossing the Old Chisholm Trail, other cattle trails, Pecos River, Rio Grande. Nothing too much exciting about Texas! Lots of working oil wells and thousands of abandoned wells dotted and blighted the landscape. Additionally, I witnessed thousands of abandoned cars, trucks, tractors, trailer homes and junk of all descriptions along the roads I traveled. Really ugly! Sweat soaked my jersey and shorts every day from ten minutes into the ride until stopping around 7:00 p.m. at night. Shower! Yes, a Godsend, but only three minutes worth from my shower bag! Still, clean, dinner, sleep!
In my journal: in 150 short years--the new citizens of this continent that the Indians had kept pristine for a thousand years--have trashed North America. I witnessed hundreds of thousands of junked cars, trailers, tractors, metal, plastic bags, bottles, cans, glass and abandoned buildings thus far. We Americans have turned America into a giant junk yard. No personal responsibility, no personal accountability, no one cares enough to lift a finger! Our rivers run with chemicals and floating bottles and plastic. I've canoed the Mississippi and it's a junk yard replete with unending chemicals. At its mouth, it features a 10,000 square mile "dead zone' where vertebrate marine creatures cannot survive. I saw junk cars, junk trailer homes, junk of all kinds on the main streets of many little towns across the south. It's almost like the residents "can't see' the ugliness and therefore, ignore it and do nothing to change their environment. Even in Yosemite, Grand Canyon and Death Valley, people throw their crap out the windows of their cars. I swear that plastic proves the worst invention of humanity. It spreads like a plague across the planet, killing and destroying the natural world. While I have picked up over a half million pieces of trash in my life, humans continue to trash the planet faster than those of us who care about our surroundings--can pick it up. In a word, it makes me sick to my stomach."
In a small Texas town, I stopped at a Subway near dusk for a sandwich and lemonade. A tall, lean teenager, about 18, stepped into line with me, "Are you riding that bike with the sign "Coast to Coast'?"
"Yes, sir," I said. "That's my bike."
"Can I buy you dinner?" he said. "I'd like to hear how you made this ride."
For the next hour, this young man, named Davis listened like a sponge on how to live a life of adventure. He asked penetrating questions and declared that he didn't want to live a "normal' life and that he too wanted to travel the world. He planned on college and then, on to an exciting life of his own. I applauded his spirit and his energy. When I walked out, I felt tremendous encouragement that every human being enjoys potential for a fulfilling life.