For lack of better words

Jefferson calls. Looking for a bike that will work. The trouble not being lack of determination or strength but rather sheer lack of proper equipment. The kick ass racing bike, you see, just isn't the machine to carry weight, particularly not into the wind on the coast road with a cliff on one side and trucks dragging boats up the other. The wind shakes the machine so badly that one has to concentrate bodhi-tree style just to keep from crashing into the concrete, off the cliff into the air, or into one of various on-coming vehicles. New plan: get new bike, head south to Big Sur. (Hence quoting a famous, never-produced fortune cookie: If not Hemingway, then Henry.)

Of course, not knowing or understanding these things, various people comment variously, i.e. "why can't you keep your eyes on your feet while you're walking." Jefferson is always conscientious about not commenting on such things. But I am, of course, not Jefferson. More on this later.

The idea of riding a bike 1,000 miles is ludicrous to me. Ludicrous because I'm a lazy ass who enjoys sitting. I have to say that sitting, the act of sitting, of actually being seated, is one of the primary sources of joy in my life. I quite simply don't like to stand, let alone move. This is not to say that I don't do a fair amount of hiking, fishing, biking, etc., but for the most part I have to say that sitting in a comfortable chair with a good cup of coffee and a good book beats the crap out of any kind of physical activity, period.

Which leads me to the utter absurdity of Jefferson's journey and why most of the critics around here should at the very least temper their words with some caring and logic.

On the one hand you can look at it this way: day after day, the operator of this site writes about himself. Indeed, it is an act of ego. It is an artistic "Look at me!" But all art is essentially this, is it not? Sharing the art is, by itself, an egotistic activity.

But it is also an altrustic activity as well, an act of sharing. Americans suffer, as a culture, from a sense of emotional reservedness which is one of our defining characteristics. We don't talk to strangers (in fact, for obvious reasons, that's one of the first lessons we teach our children). We don't know our neighbors (or worse, we distrust them). We are racist, sexist, and homophobic. We fear change and lack of resources.

At least for me this website is an andidote for these fears and this emotional hollowness. Many people would not have mentioned anything about the trip until it was completed. Many would not let you in on the dirtiest secrets (like the nail clippings jar--I mean Jesus Christ, if that's not fucked up then I don't know what is). Pitcher, though, tells you chapter and verse of each thought, of his training, of his various fears. You read this, one suspects, because you like to share in these moments with him. It is, in this effect, the same draw as all the various reality t.v. programs--a sense that you are viewing someone else's life through a peephole. (Yes, we may not trust our neighbors, but we love to find out what they're doing.)

I can only assume that many of your responses are meant to be supportive in weird ways. That you are trying to spur the trip on through something akin to tough love. Jefferson is a man who often bites off more than he can chew. This much is true. Yes having realistic goals would perhaps make life easier. But then again, you wouldn't be reading this because that wouldn't be Jefferson. A man can have only one destiny alone for if that destiny were changed, what man would he be.

A simple question: how many of us have had the courage to even attempt something as outlandish as a 1,000 mile bike ride? I suspect that those who can answer in the affirmative are mostly silent here. It's those on the sofa (folks like me) who have things to say.

A better idea: revel in the problems, the changed plans, the weirdnesses. And wish him home safely.

I have to say further, that, as a reader of this journal, I am often amazed at the amount of rancor in the air. Does Above the Orange Trees bring out the worst in its listeners? Is Jefferson Pitcher a magnet for anger? Rather than a supportive community, I often feel the journal comments are akin to a group of angry dogs fighting over a dry bone. Why is this so?

Posted by christian at July 8, 2003 12:48 PM

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