Cincos Locos

Davis, CA to Livermore, CA (80 miles)

Cactus Fruit

As we geared up to leave the host site in Davis, California, I approached Chris and said in a shy, low voice: “Hey, uh, Chris? Do you maybe wanna like, shred together?” I feigned the nervousness of the guys in July when they made their prom proposals. With just three day days left of riding with a team from 16 different states, who knows when the next opportunity to ride together will be? So Chris and I cruised out of Davis, and we stopped to eat the fruit of a wild roadside cactus. He ripped the fruit apart and a slice fell into my hand - ow, those tiny hairy thorns got everywhere! Rachael met up with us and waited while we spent 20 minutes plucking thorns out of our hands and lips.

The Answer is Blowing in the Wind...

In the flat lands we were fighting the wind once again. However, the road suddenly turned, and then turned again, and the headwind became a tailwind! I took advantage of this and sprinted, loving the fact that with the wind on my back combined with my growth, I’m faster than I ever thought I’d be on a bike. However, that stretch of road lasted for just one mile before making its way back toward a headwind. The wind tests my patience as I keep reminding myself that it’s resistance training. I laughed to myself as I knew I’d forever remember That One Mile of Tailwind in a Four Thousand Mile Bike Trip. When the wind blows into my ears it’s hard to hear anything else while riding. When it’s safe, sometimes I turn my head to the right or the left, so that I can hear out of just one ear how quiet and peaceful my surroundings are. I imagine the wind has a message for me, if only I'd stop cursing it and listen. I imagine solo rides after Bike & Build, when I can ride with the wind whenever I choose.

A Physical Test of Mental Strength

Through the states I've traveled to, I sense that each state believes it’s drivers to be the worst, it’s food to be the best, and it’s weather to be the least predictable. But in particular, California drivers were not very nice to SC2SC. The war our team fought with cars was relentless since South Carolina, when a driver made contact with a rider’s bike, to the Styrofoam cups thrown at us in Georgia, to the over-sized loads of Route 40 in Utah, to getting driven off the road by too many close-calls in every state. The mental strength required in cycling is also necessary for sharing the road. Every car that aggressively honks their horn, shouts explicits out their window, and simply doesn't give cyclists their 3-4 feet of comfortable passing, is trying to send the same message to cyclists: You don’t belong here, this is my territory, I have more brute force than you and I will squash you like a bug. It takes mental strength to listen to self-talk over these messages, and the countless times when the road became a battleground I would remind myself: These are public roads, you have every right to this space than they do, hold your ground, don’t budge for them. I admit that because I was representing Bike & Build, I held back a lot of my road rage on this trip.

But this self-talk, is there something more to it? Is this the “youth empowerment” facet of Bike & Build, reminding myself of my own self-worth? The ubiquitously negative messages from drivers is what many women are told throughout their lives. As so many career fields are unwelcoming to women, we are told in numerous passive ways: You don’t belong in this public setting. Just as I practiced affirmative self-talk when confronted with drivers, I see it’s useful to continue this off the bike too. Hold your ground, you have every right to be here, to take up space. I’m once again reminded that while Bike & Build aims to empower youth, I believe it is an experience particularly empowering for females, as not only the road but also the worlds of cycling and construction are male-dominated.

Life in the Shoulder

My road rage stems from being tired of women being told these messages, being invisible and having rights ignored. The team knows I prefer to ride in the lane whenever possible, and it’s because I’m tired of living in the margin, which I see as the debris-ridden shoulder. I’m taking the lane, car, you will wait.

And the shoulder was especially troublesome during this ride. There were crevices so large I joked that we were riding along the San Andreas fault. I had never seen cracks along the shoulder that were four inches wide, enough to trap my skinny tires and send me flying. So I was much more nervous than usual being in this five deep paceline, with riders behind me relying on my calls and hand gestures, but riders in front of me blocking my view. Pacelining is something I've struggled with this entire trip, and while I feel I’m improving, I know I have a lot of work to do, which is greatly hindered by riding I find more enjoyable: solo and two abreast. So this paceline didn't last very long through the San Andreas fault, and we spaced out a bit. The terrible conditions of the road earned this day the title, “Flatpocalypse.”

Cincos Locos

The five of us regrouped later, and began to have much more fun and joked around for miles. JD lost What Are the Chances to me, and while riding behind me he said to a construction worker standing nearby, “That’s my baby.” The five of us debated over whether the three-note bass line in Tyga’s “Rack City” was genius or dumb. We dubbed ourselves Los Cincos Locos, and entered a surprise mountain pass.

Nyx noted back in Oregon that California has the Golden Hills, which are green with plant life in the spring and quickly dry out and glow in gold the rest of the year. That’s exactly where we were, but with windmills everywhere. The windmills were situated at every elevation point, surrounding us with nothing but rolling waves of golden hills with windmills of varying heights and distances. There were no plants and thus no shade. But at the top, Lacy and I found a large plastic piece of a truck, and we picked it up propped it against a sign post. I ran a little ways back down the road and chalked, “Need Shade? Emergency Shelter Ahead.” The rest of the group realized this pass had no name, so JD dubbed it “Cincos Locos Pass” in chalk.

At the Host

In Livermore, we had arranged shuttles to a sports club for showers. We also had access to the sauna, steam room, hot tub, and pool - all amenities I took full advantage off. We had a delicious dinner provided by our host, and a chore group gave a hilarious presentation. We all know the presentation now by heart. The host requested our assistance with stuffing backpacks with school supplies for deserving children. We were happy to help! I stuffed backpacks with color coordination in mind, and then we had a competition to see which Bike & Builder could carry the most backpacks. I forget who won, but they had about nine backpacks on them.

We opened letters and packages from our final maildrop. My mom knows just what I need as a vegetarian - more protein bars! Roxanne sent me her third care package, a balanced medley of practical items for bike touring, but also silly nick-knacks and candy. 

In Livermore the team also had our final family meeting. We savored the moments as one by one we told our highs, lows, and shout outs of the week and/or the entire summer. I was still picking thorns out of my fingertips from that dang cactus fruit. There was mostly laughing, but also some tears. JD received a Spongebob pinata in the mail, so after the meeting while the team whacked that thing I found a perfect spot for sleeping outside. It was cold and cloudy, but still worth it.