Bike Tour 2009, a retrospective

“We are, but it’s… not done yet. It’s a triple-header”

-Mr. Fox

Tomorrow I am beginning a 3-day road trip from my home in Atlanta to a small family vegetable farm in western Pennsylvania, Reeger’s Farm.

To begin talking about Reeger’s Farm I must recall the first time I visited and how I got there. Around this same time 3 years ago my father and I embarked on a cross-country bicycle tour from Nashville to Pittsburg. I had been dreaming up adventures through the spring semester and though I had given the idea of a long bike ride much thought, I had not put in any practice. Setting out in the middle of May, climbing endless hills on Kentucky’s Bluegrass Parkway, we were in for much more than I had anticipated. Along the way we slept in a tiny 2 (more like 1 and 1/2) person tent on state campgrounds, in an abandoned shack, and in the backyard of gracious strangers. We stayed one night with Cooper McCullough and his family and another in the home of some welcoming fellow Christians in central Ohio. After 10 days of climbing and coasting, along with the consumption of countless ice-cream sundaes, which were burned off in seconds, seemingly, we arrived in Pittsburg. My father flew home and Annie, a new college friend at the time, old friend by now, picked me up and drove me out to her family’s farm. I will never forget packing my bike into her van and driving off. After 10 days of travelling at a constant speed around 15mph, the van ride was terrifying! When we hit the highway I was sure I was going to die. Nevertheless, 3 years ago I arrived at Reeger’s farm for the first time.

Three years ago the hardest part of this trip was the journey itself. Upon arriving I did little more than relax and enjoy the environment. I ate lunch at the market, went into town for Meadow’s creamy custard, and enjoyed a lovely family pot luck. It was a hard-earned reward for the rigorous cycling, as I saw it.

This time around, things are backwards. I will be driving the Marshmallow all the way, gently floating over those same rolling Kentucky hills. The travel is a breeze, the work begins when I arrive.

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