August 28 Crossing America

Driving home with a stop over in Denver to visit a high school buddy.

Still in bike riding mode I was up at 6 AM and on the road by 6:30.  This was going to be a long day as I wanted to drive as far as my body would allow toward Nevada, MO.  13 hours later and approximately 850 miles I arrived in Denver.  Late afternoon, when I realized I was going to be able to make it to Denver I emailed another old high school buddy Dick Schneider asking if he’d like an unexpected visit from me tonight.  Dick responded when I was about an hour away from Denver welcoming me to stay at his place tonight.  That was a big relief as my budget is getting tight and I’ve still got the east coast stage of my adventure to complete.  Instead of reading my ramblings thought you all might like a change of pace and like to read what a professional journalist had to say about my short visit with him.  Enjoy!

The Colorado Report
by Richard J. Schneider – Writing & Living in the Centennial State.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Old guy on a bike

An old guy on a bike stopped by last night.

Well, he wasn’t really on his bike. He had two of them carriered up on the back of his van. He was driving between two legs of an odyssey he began last spring to bike across America, raising money for MS, seeing the country, hooking up with old friends and making new ones.

Frank Briscoe was driving from the west coast legs of the trip, blasting through to his home base in Missouri, and then racing down to Key West where he’ll crank his bike up the eastern seaboard for twelve or thirteen hundred miles “self-contained,” meaning all his essentials – clothing, camping gear, food, water, and tools – will be on the bike. He has done some of his legs with “sag” vehicles, where  a volunteer would drive the van along with him as he peddles through the trip of a lifetime. Fellow high school classmates Dale Rau of Oregon and Joyce Bernard of Washington sagged with him out there on the Left Coast.

Did I say classmate? Yes, Frank and I went to high school together back in the early sixties. We played football together. Crystal Lake, Illinois. Chicago suburb. He was a tough lineman. Now he’s a tough cyclist. But he does admit to some stress out there on the road, caused recently by terrible roads in California and Oregon (the shoulders aren’t very good) and speeding drivers, especially those who actually try to brush cyclists off the road. They’ll get theirs eventually.

Good thing I checked my email last night (that was Sunday Aug. 28). Frank said he’d be in Denver about 10 p.m. I’m in the midst of a move and had just packed up my entire kitchen, leaving only my titanium backpacking mess kit out for mealtimes. I had one glass. I shot back an email and gave him my cell phone number. He called and rolled in an hour early.

So we stayed up until 1:00 a.m. catching up on our lives since high school, both learning a lot about each other we never knew, or even suspected. This was the first time we had spent any time together since those days, but for a few intervening reunions – and you know how reunions are. Half the time when you’re on your way home from the reunion, you think about all the people you didn’t get to talk to.

So Frank crashed on the couch, my guest bedroom having been packed up and moved a long time ago (it’s one of those slow motion downsizing moves). We hit the deck early Monday, went out for breakfast. Then Frank headed out, planning to drive 650 miles that day on his way back home. He’ll only be there a day or two. His wife is running the family business while Frank peddles. She deserves a medal for that.

In a week he’ll be down in Key West ready for that part of his ride. I promised to send him my Key West contacts for a possible bunk. Riders on such endeavors are in need of places to stay as they brave the elements (i.e., drivers of automobiles) during these dream rides. Frank had been planning this one for years.

Now, I am given to understand that 60 is the new 40. I think that’s true, except when it comes to the job market. Ask any sixty-something who is looking for a job. But I digress. Frank has one year on me. He turned 65 in July 2011. I turned 64 the same month.

Frank is journaling on his trip. I asked him if planned to write a book when he was done. He said he’d like to. I encouraged him to. He can pass on tips, dos and don’ts, interesting stories and observations (like his sadness over the crumbling of America’s small towns) and provide encouragement to others his age – our age – to get on two wheels and do the same thing. Or, do something else, like build your own retirements house, or – like me – write those mystery novels.

So we talked a little bit about the writing, which was good for me, as I am a writer. Frank has had a few articles published on his cycling trips. We exchanged frustration over “writing tight.” He had to take a long trip journal (like six-digit word length) and boil it down to a 2,000 word article requested by a magazine editor. He said it was tough, but Frank’s tough. I told him how I am struggling to write a one-page synopsis of my first novel – 90,000 words. Thus far, I’ve written a 12,000 word chapter by chapter summary (which turned out to be a good tool for me), a 4,000 word synopsis based on the chapter summery, a 2,000 word synopsis based on the 4,000-word version and, soon I hope, to knock out a one-page synopsis that tells some agent or publisher every single little thing they need to know about my 90,000 word book.

(I confess, I really like the ring of Frank’s name – Frank Briscoe. I have a detective in my novel, WATER, who will play a continuing role in the Vic Bengston Investigation Series. See www.schneiderfiction.com for a few more details. I wanted to call him Frank Briscoe. But Law and Order stomped that with Det. Lennie Briscoe. So my detective, who is the fictional chief homicide detective in Denver, is Frank Driscoll. It still has that ring that I like, and plays a homage to my old football colleague.)

I’m not dodging as many cars as Frank is, although I am riding my 21-speed a lot more than I used to. 21 speeds, by the way, means I can ride at the same slow pace no matter what the grade. I expect to get out there one of these days and take a bicycle tour, having been inspired by and thoroughly shamed by Frank. You see, I did a bit of bike touring myself, back in 1964, when nobody knew much about cycling in this country. It was an oddity then. Now it’s the norm.

Dick and me, great to see another old hs buddy while on my journey

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