A More Beautiful America

One of my main reasons for embarking on this trip was, in the words of a good friend, "to get out there and see what's going on". I wanted to pop the bubbles of university academia, of progressive Portland, and of bike-friendly Oregon. I wanted to get out there and see what the other parts of the country are really like.

So did I succeed in my bubble-popping endeavor? In some respects, yes. No one on this trip has given me essay assignments, nor scolded me for presenting a "fact" without citing scholarly sources. The liberal, progressive vibes of Portland have long faded into the Kansas horizon, and bike paths have become nearly extinct. Things sure are different. The phrase "You're not in Kansas anymore" comes to mind, but is inaccurate given the circumstances. :)

But in reality, I've only popped one bubble and stepped into another. The TransAm route itself is a bubble indeed, with folks who wouldn't otherwise know anything about cycling becoming experts in cross-country culture. On more than one occasion, I've been informed in the grocery store by a fellow shopper, "cyclists don't usually eat that". (I have to restrain myself from replying "oh yeah? Watch me"). What gives a Kansas soybean farmer the confidence to tell me I'm touring wrong? Contact with over a thousand cyclists every summer. A bubble, indeed.

So while I may not feel like I'm getting the "real" picture of life in the USA, I'm realizing that the picture is different no matter where you go. Every inch of this country is claimed by a different bubble, a distinct subculture. The ghetto in Omaha, Nebraska, the retirement communities of Colorado, the international club at Bethel University in Kansas. Who's to say one's more American than the other?

All I can say with certainty is, Im glad to be in the midst of the TransAm subculture. This is a narrow path carved across the country, where a bicycle gives you instant purpose. People you meet know what you're up to, and respect you for it. Folks of all different ages, income levels, and backgrounds help cyclists achieve their goals. They may not be a fan of bikes themselves, but see the need and admire the ambition. Churches open doors, offer showers, and cook meals for non-beleiving strangers like me, just because I showed up on two wheels. Little towns offer free camping, free internet at local libraries, and special discounts. Most importantly, folks invite cyclists into their homes, trusting them with their belongings and loved ones, and always eager to share however much they have.
It's like a more beautiful America, stretched thin on the backroads from Oregon to Virginia. I'm proud to be a patriot of it.