"CAPTAIN! WE'RE BREAKING UP!! SHE CAN'T HOLD OUT MUCH LONGER!!! AHHHHH!!"
Ah yes, good times. By the time I got to the end of yet another divebombing down a mountainside, I had lost my voice. There's nothing quite as exhilarating as a long, steep and weaving descent through tight, empty roads in no-man's land. It's a fantastic ride for a short while, but in the back of my mind it's slightly torcherous -- every inch of elevation lost is one more inch of elevation I'll have to very soon regain.
And so, up we go. Again. And again. And again. And again. I'm now a 5-time member of the mile-high club and it isn't nearly as satisfying as we've been led to believe. The same logging truck keeps passing me in both directions as it loads and unloads its cargo. It roars by me for a week straight, back and forth, and each time I'm puttin' along at a good 4 mph absolutely drenched in sweat. It's getting ridiculous. This map through Washington is by far the most difficult and lucky me chose to bike it cold-turkey after a year of sitting on my ass. By the time I get to the top of the next pass, I don't want to leave. So, I have a little picnic, read a bit, wash my ears, brush my teeth and stare at the clouds. I stand up at the summit for a good 45 minutes procrastinating having to leave and eventually decide that I'll just do it tomorrow. So, into the woods, out with the tent and goodbye 'til morning.
In the morning, we ride to the bottom. Again. "I hope I didn't go down the wrong side..." Ah, wouldn't that be horrible. I'd probably hop the next bus to Minneapolis instead of turning around. When I reach the valley floor, I once more have to begin a hellish climb back to the top of another mountain. So, as is the fashion these days, I procrastinate the climb. Find the library, go food shopping and eat a whole chicken. Great. Now it's time to go. Now that I've sufficiently gorged myself, my body can't decide between oxygenating my muscles or digesting the bird I just ate. Awesome. Being me is a fun mix of clarity and stupidity. I stop every 100ft before I finally reach the top.
This is the book that freed me from the rat race. If you're unfulfilled with your working life or want to change careers, begin an adventure, or set off to do something personally meaningful, this is the place to start.
On sub-zero nights I'll wake up sweating inside this sleeping bag. Compact and lightweight. Super comfy.
My name is Charles Tronolone and I'm attempting something a bit unconventional; I'm trying to make a living by writing while on a perpetual bicycle tour. How I got to this point is a story in itself, but suffice to say that I
refuse to be just another cog in the machine. There's too much important work to be done and too many eyes to open for us to be content with personal goals or riches. In late 2006, I managed to escape the machine, and now I'm setting off to help bring it down.
Whether or not this website proves to generate the revenue required to keep me on the road remains to be seen. I understand that the odds are heavily against me and that this means of income requires incredible amounts of time I simply won't have. However, it's the content that is going to accomplish what actually matters in the end. Should I fail financially, there's pride in knowing that I have already succeeded in purpose -- I have helped to liberate my peers to spread truth and meaning into their own lives.
If you're interested in helping my cause or have found the articles on this site to be personally beneficial or simply entertaining, please check out a couple of the ways you can help contribute. Aside from a kind donation, there is actually an easy way for you to earn $20 while simultaneously helping me on my mission. It allows you to withdrawal cash from *any* foreign ATM without paying a fee, and it's something that has saved me a lot of money while traveling. Click here to learn more.