Читать книгу I Tried Not To Cry - Michael Beattie - Страница 8

Chapter 2

Was I Blind?

A couple of years passed after that spinal fusion surgery, and retirement was on my mind, as I was turning sixty-five and yearned to travel the United States. My plan would be to sightsee as well as hike as many mountains as my health would allow. I mended very well, but still had to be cautious about twisting and lifting any weights, and it would be like that the rest of my life. After turning over my business to my senior employee, I got myself on Social Security and Medicare, and then began making plans for travel.

Much research went into my travel plans, and a decision was made to buy an older camper to be used as my home on wheels for the one-year planned excursion around the United States. After plans were made for my house to be lived in while I was gone, Suzanne, my new partner, and myself departed eastern Connecticut on May of 2014 for parts unknown. It would be an adventure that would take a year of visiting national parks, state parks, provincial parks, and many mountains in both the USA and parts of Canada. We started off with easy hikes as I tried to condition Sue for longer, more extreme hiking, which would come at a later time. The camper served us well as a home base as we went from East Coast to West Coast and everywhere in between. Some major camper repairs left me stranded in the Las Vegas area for a month, at which time Sue returned home, as I stayed behind waiting for the repairs to be completed. While Sue tended to business at home, I continued on to do more extensive hiking. The Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Zion, desert hikes as well as high-peak hikes all across the area. I got to the point that my knee braces were no longer needed, and life was good! Sue rejoined me in Florida, and we continued to hike our way up the East Coast on our way back to Connecticut.

While hiking in the warmer climate areas of the country, I couldn’t help but notice the sheer number of people holding signs begging for food, with a great deal of them claiming to be veterans. My first opinion of these types of citizens was that they were just lazy. I had to start working at a very young age if I wanted anything, and I couldn’t understand why these people just didn’t get a job. I would mostly turn my head away from these individuals as if I didn’t see them. After all, I know how both of my brothers ended up being homeless, drugs. Sometimes it’s hard to feel sorry for those who go down the wrong road, and in my brothers’ cases, it was their own doing, and there was nothing I or my family members could do to right the wrong, even though we tried everything we knew. They became not only a mental burden on us all, but they also wore us down financially.

One day while traveling alone through a small town in New Mexico, I stopped to get a coffee at a McDonald’s restaurant, as I have a weakness for strong coffee. As I went to enter the doorway, I couldn’t help but notice a man who was sitting against the building with a sign next to him that read he was a homeless veteran and would work for food. His head was sort of down between his legs as he sat there motionless. Something struck a nerve with me about this man, possibly because he appeared to be around my age. I went inside and decided to order the man a couple of burgers along with my coffee. When I exited the building, I said “Here you go” to the man as I handed him the bag containing the food. His head straightened up quickly as he reached for the bag, thanking me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person eat so fast in my life as he inhaled the burgers and drank from the water jug that he had next to him. This man was truly hungry, and as he thanked me, he hugged me and began to cry over his joy for the food. I decided to sit next to him and ask him his story. I asked him if he was truly a veteran to which he replied yes. “What happened to you?” I asked. He began his story of returning home from Vietnam to his hometown to be hired as a machinery operator in a local factory. “Worked there running that machine almost my entire life,” he stated. “I was a damn good worker,” he said. “Never late, worked anytime they needed me. The damn owners sold us down the drain,” he said. “Moved the entire plant overseas. I was left with no other job skills along with many others. I tried finding work near my home, but there was nothing for me, especially at my age, so I worked any part-time job I could grab. It wasn’t enough, and I fell behind on my mortgage. Ended up living in my car until that got towed away on me along with everything I had left. Look at me,” he cried. “I look like a bum, and no one will give me a chance. Hell, I can’t even keep myself clean anymore. I relocated to this area, as it’s at least warmer here. I don’t know how much longer I can live like this,” he cried. I told him if I still had my business I’d give him a job, and I handed him the cash that I had left on me. I thanked him for his service and told him to “try and stay strong, my brother, until help finds you.” He huged and thanked me again, as I felt terrible leaving him there like that.

This meeting really troubled me, and after that day I made it my point to try and talk to as many veterans that held up signs as I could. I started to hear similar situations from many that had experienced disasters at some point in their life that made it impossible to care for themselves or their families. Family illnesses that bankrupted them, weather disasters that put them on the street, as well as so many other stories, including just being retired poor. I soon realized that not all these people were bums, alcoholics, or drug addicts, as I previously had thought convictions of. I became so moved that my half-empty head started thinking of ways in which I could possibly help these souls. Then I thought of the promise that I had made that night as I lay in bed, “to do something good for mankind.” As I continued to hike alone hours on end, my mind kept thinking of all these people in need. Veterans, who gave so much for our country, being left on the streets. Many whom I talked with felt abandoned by the government and wanted nothing to do with any help from them ever again. I felt so lucky at this point to have lived my great life, with, yes, many bumps in the road, but nothing compared to those I was meeting. Their stories of falling through the cracks of our society were more than a middle-class individual like I have ever had to witness in eastern Connecticut.

When I finally arrived in Florida, where I stayed for much of the winter until Sue rejoined me, I rode my bike along the beach areas each day in my attempt to stay in good health. It was also an attempt to see if I could still ride a bike after all my back issues. I kept falling at first, as I tried to mount and dismount the bike, as my balance was bad, but I kept at it until I overcame those issues. Thank God for my helmet! My bike was just an inexpensive hybrid type which was kept on the rear of the camper, but it enabled me to ride to and from shower areas in the campgrounds, as well as to get supplies at the store. As I rode along each day, I kept trying to figure out a way I could make a difference in the lives of these veterans that struggle for food. I remembered a young man from my hometown area that rode his bike cross-country one way to raise money for a local soup kitchen. Ray Aramini was his name, and as I recalled, he raised a sizable amount of funds for the soup kitchen in my home work town by doing that ride. This started me thinking about possibly doing a long ride to try and raise funds for these veterans in need. But I knew it had to be much more than just a cross-country ride if I was going to garner any major attention to the cause. I needed to think of something that would seem so much more difficult to the average person that it would help me raise enough money to make a difference as I tried to raise the awareness of the problem.

In the back of my mind, I was planning a twelve-thousand-mile bike ride solo around the perimeter of the United States. After doing online research about this subject, I couldn’t find anyone who had attempted this before, not to mention anyone my age. Actually, I wasn’t even sure if I could even attempt such a feat, but it became the only thing my mind dwelled on almost constantly. I always dreamed of riding cross-country on a bike in my earlier years, but now I’m half broken, and any form of motion usually begets pain. I kept fighting the idea, but kept trying to challenge myself, even knowing the odds of my completing a journey like this wasn’t in my favor. I didn’t share this idea with anyone, especially Sue, as I knew she wouldn’t be happy. Sue sensed I was up to something, as my desire to ride every day was something new, which she didn’t quite understand, yet, I kept telling her I wanted to stay in shape. By this time, she knew that I was an unusual man who seemed to have to push himself further than many would attempt. She knew of my extreme hiking, and my stories of extreme sports adventures that I participated in throughout my life, yet, it was something she never had any urge to do, and it was hard to explain to her. She would be happy doing a one-mile walk, I wasn’t happy unless it was twenty miles. That’s just the way I’ve been most of my life.

While in Florida, we took a trip to a Gainesville bike shop which had a new touring cycle for sale at a great price. I wanted to see if that would be better on my back as the upright-type hybrid cycle I had was not working very well for me. After a demo ride, I purchased an Aurora Elite touring cycle made by Jamis. I’d been doing research on several brands of bikes and found the reviews quite good for this model, as well as the fact that it was much less costly than the other higher rated bikes. The different positions that I could use on the handlebars made a huge difference for my back as leaning forward just a bit almost eliminated any back pain. Sue really thought something was up now after I spent that kind of money on a bike! I told her it was more comfortable riding for my back. I started riding it every day, slowly increasing my distances in an attempt to build my leg muscles.

I researched the number of homeless veterans in our country and was shocked at the time that the number leaned toward 130,000, depending on whom you listened to. There was possibly also another 3 million veterans and their family members that struggled to put food on their table at the end of each month. My search found only one veteran’s food pantry that attempted to feed veterans both locally and nationally by means of food cards. This pantry was located in Utica, New York, a 501C3 nonprofit group comprised mostly of veteran volunteers. It was called Feed Our Vets. I shared my idea of riding to raise funds for the pantry with Sue and was met with much resistance. She, along with my family members, thought I had lost my mind to even attempt a ride of such great magnitude. They were probably right. Their disbelief in my ability to take on such a monumental ride seemed to fuel my fire and desire even more to complete this mission. After I explained my reasoning behind the idea, Sue started to provide me with some support. This was all I could think of for the last six months during my road trip, and after I returned home. I was, in my mind, committed to trying this crazy adventure.

My training had already started immediately after I returned home, as I rode on the hills almost daily, increasing my mileage, while I continued to study how I could pull this trip off and stay in favorable weather the whole way. My knees gave me some trouble on the hills, so I wore knee braces to help support them as I rode everywhere, including to and from the coffee shop I loved to visit each morning. My buddies thought I lost my mind when I told them of my plans. I didn’t let it bother me as I was focused on this mission. Approaching sixty-seven, I knew that it was not going to be a walk in the park, yet, I made a promise, and there was only one way to find out the result. I first had to finish the renovations on my home so that I could sell my house in order to ensure I had enough money to fund the trip. I also did not want to have any house expenses to worry about while I was gone on this six-month journey.

Quickly I installed a new rear stone patio and completed the landscaping myself. I built a firepit out of the bricks I had left over from my renovations, as this seemed to be a popular item. The house was a showpiece after having been completely rebuilt, with all new appliances, baths, and kitchen. I had a deposit in three weeks! I was heartbroken to let my home go after all the work I had put into making it so special. But a promise is a promise. So now between my Social Security monthly check and the funds left over from the sale of my home, I would have the finances to fund my trip from month to month. I moved the contents of my home into storage after giving much of it away to charities, and moved in to live with Sue in the over-fifty-five community she resided in.

My back was really in rough shape at this point from all the lifting and moving, which prompted me to visit Dr. Krompinger once again. He took X-rays and thought that everything looked in place and offered his advice that I take it easy. Well, I’m not one to take it easy, especially when I have so much to do, and I’m also not the type to ask for help. After the lifting was over with, my back started getting better. Although the mobile home that Sue lived in was sort of small, I set up an office on her kitchen table and started my work on a laptop computer.

I studied climate averages around the country at various times of the year to figure out how to best pick a route that would allow me to basically do a 12,000-mile loop and still stay in favorable weather. I ordered several sets of bike route maps from the Adventure Cycling Association and began studying them in great detail. If I combined sections of their recommended East Coast, West Coast, Northern Tier and Southern Tier routes, I came up with a bit over 11,000 miles in total distance. After figuring in side trips to lodging as well as detours to and from my planned route, I was getting closer to 12,000 miles. I read many articles about long-distance cycling in order to try calculating what I needed to carry with me. I purchased a Bob Ibex pull-behind cart to haul all my gear, and then planned a few long-distance training rides to get a feel for what was in store for me.

My first training ride took me to the White Mountains of New Hampshire by car. After spending the night there, I departed early on my cycle, pulling my cart and gear. I proceeded to complete a three-day ride to my home in Connecticut. Day one was 98 miles, with many tough mountain elevation climbs. Day two was a 100-mile day but much flatter, and then day three was a 60-mile ride. Tough was a good word to describe this ride, but I wasn’t discouraged yet. More training was needed. My second trip was a longer ride to Sellersville, Pennsylvania, from my home in Storrs, Connecticut. My grandnephew was graduating from high school, and his parents were having a big family party for him. So, I decided this would be a good training ride of 350 miles to their home. I planned my route and headed off, making the trip in three days. It was a really difficult ride for me, making me wonder if I could really pull off a ride of 12,000 miles. I had butt sores after just two long days, and the hills killed my knees. Was I being realistic, or just dreaming with such high expectations?

My ride home in the car with Sue was a long one, as it had me wondering if my dreams of riding to feed hungry veterans would really happen or not. Stubborn as I am, I wasn’t going to give up easily. I planned my next trip, and this one would be to Portland, Maine, from my home in Storrs. After recuperating from the Pennsylvania ride, I rode 232 miles in two days to Portland, but this time, without my pull-behind trailer. The ride to Pennsylvania had several steep downhill rides, during which I encountered a great deal of shimmying from the trailer. This was very unnerving, so I opted to try this ride with side packs instead. I liked the ride much better without the trailer, so I had to rethink my plans of gear packing. On that first day I rode 100 miles, then 132 miles the second day. It was a tough ride with gear, but I was feeling more confident after that trip.