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Millions of peaches October 13th of the first year

My camera's name is now Ziggy. Instead of printing out maps at the library for a fee, I just snap photos of the computer screen and use the zoom on my camera to get the needed detail. The dude from "Quantum Leap" used his handheld Ziggy as a guide and now so do I... only mine doesn't make the funky robot sounds.

This is going to be a quick update since there are no libraries on my route until Jacksonville - about 4 or 5 days from here.

I just read the journal I wrote at Kristin's house and am finding it hard to compete with such a rollercoaster of a story like that. The most interesting person I've recently met was a guy talking about, well...

"Are you going to go through Arizona?"
"Yup. Texas, New Mexico, Arizona all the way to San Diego."
"Gotcha. When you're in Arizona be sure to keep your eyes peeled for..."

What's this guy gonna say that I haven't already heard? Snakes? Cactuses? UFOs? Scorpions, lizards?

"Meteorites."
"Meteorites?"
"Yea, I'm a rock-guy. I have geodes, quartz, etc..."
"No shit? What you really need are some moon rocks."
"I have plenty of moon rocks, I need meteorites! They're worth millions!"

Apparently, there is some guy who goes around on an ultra-light seeking out meteorites in Arizona and he's making "millions of dollars" doing it. This dude claimed to have almost been hit by one while fishing on a lake at night but couldn't find it once it sank to the bottom of course. I'll be on the lookout, pal.

I came upon another fellow dressed in a Cowboys jersey holding a long stick standing in the middle of the road. There were no cars or houses for miles... just this dude... standing there. I rode by and said, "Hey what's up?" and he spat out some gibberish that I didn't understand. "You just hanging out in the middle of the road?" "Yup!" That was it. Where do these people come from? Anyway, I kept biking through the bottom of South Carolina and into Georgia. It's weird, people do nothing in these parts. From what I can tell, they sit around on the edge of their lawns in broken chairs and scratch themselves. Old, young, middle-aged... it doesn't matter. I feel like I'm on parade.

It feels good to be dirty again... to glisten when the sun shines and to wonder where the beard ends and dirt begins. Being clean means I feel disgusted when I get dirty, but being dirty means I can utilize my shirt to cleanup spills or use my arm hair as a napkin... as nature intended.

I feel like a well-oiled machine lately. Hills have ceased to slow me down and fatigue is virtually nonexistent. On rare occasion, I'll get these insane rushes of adrenaline and bike as though I actually were a machine. At the culmination of the next largest hill, it will all release in a freakish and barbaric roar which I can hardly control. I'll then proceed to consume all the oxygen in a 1000ft radius just to ensure this new territory is none but my own. I can taste the adrenaline on my gums as it seeps into my mouth... ready to sink my teeth into another's flesh and ask for seconds.

I'm growing in different directions and can't say I'll be the same when it's all over. I've decided that there is nothing worth holding back on these journals... so I'll apologize in advance if its contents cause some concern. It is what it is and I'm feelin' good :-)

Keep rockin',

Charlie

Shadowfax makes a new friend and I reap the benefits of being in earshot of a tour through Charleston :-)



Riding West



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Disclaimer: "Do not seek out encounters with bears or intentionally provoke them." Do you think somebody actually did this? Idiots... I hope they were eaten.






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  6. The Beard learns to Whistle
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  9. I've Crossed Over
  10. Heaven, Hell and everything in between

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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.

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