Ain't that America

Caldwell, ID to Ontario, OR

In the last mile of yesterday’s sweep ride with Rae, we finally entered our destination town of Caldwell, Idaho. It’s going to be our last night in Idaho before crossing into our twelfth state, Oregon. Then it’s just California. The sun was on it’s way back to the horizon, and with wheat and corn fields on one side of the road, and potatoes and onions on the other, it’s clear that this is where America’s food is grown. We leave the fields at the outskirts of town, and every street we cross through is named after a state: Ohio Ave., Iowa Ave., Indiana Ave., Oklahoma Ave. There are so many states that I haven’t travelled to, let alone given much thought of. Bike & Build has now put an image, a memory of many tiny towns across the United States that I would probably never spend the night in otherwise.

If you want to know what I look at all day long while I’m biking, most of the time it’s agriculture, sparse farm houses, hay bales, and gas stations. In terms of land usage, I’m pretty sure most of America looks like this. There are exceptions, of course: the deceitful tree farms of South Carolina, the mountains of Colorado, and the deserts of Texas, New Mexico, and Utah. I’m not as interested in the state lines as I am blown away by the ever-changing landscape. When I hum Mellancamp’s “Little Pink Houses,” it’s because I’m in awe of the diversity of climates in this continent. I can describe it to you, but it’s different to actually see it, and even more grand to have gotten yourself there on two wheels.

Of the 28 riders, we represent a total of 16 different states, and we are travelling through 13 states. Through making connections with people across the heart of the South and West, and now having riding buddies in states including Indiana, Florida, and Louisiana, I feel like I’ve gained a better grasp of American culture. The team jokes about us impatient Northerners who drink hot unsweetened tea, while also pointing out how blunt the Southerners can be. Almost like a microcosm of the United States, most of us are white, about a quarter are Christian, many are spiritual, and there are like six vegetarians. We have a lot of introverts on our team, and really respect each other’s needs to bike solo and take some alone time. Politically, there are opposing viewpoints represented here on matters such as religion, patriotism, abortion, and homosexuality. You’d think this would be a recipe for disaster, but we’re all pretty mature and open minded, and continue to hold onto our sense of humor. As a team, we show the diversity in American lifestyles. But we’ve all come together to address the issue of affordable housing, and if all else fails, at least we’ve got biking in common.

Now that I’ve seen so much more of the United States, how has my opinion changed? Several riders attached American flags to their Camel Baks, but I chose not to. I have no clue what’s going on in politics anymore. My opinion about United States politics and current events is irrelevant – there is work to do. What really strikes me is the amazing generosity of people who have cooked meals for us, driven us to their homes to shower, and pulled over on the road to lend us their floor pumps and water that have not given me hope in just Americans but in humanity. It’s often kindness from strangers, locals, and hosts that give me more hope than politicians and leaders. Despite the diversity in landscape and people, they are unified by pride in their town, county, state, region, and country, which has given me much food for thought about patriotism. I believe that this kindness from strangers, this delicate and transient relationship between the traveler and the local, and this love of one’s land and community can be found anywhere, not only to be attributed to the United States.