A 3,700-mile bicycle odyssey reveals the real America.
Journey was a welcome break from politics
After retiring last August, my wife and I took off on our bicycles to explore the world. Pedaling over 7,000 miles for 10 months, we had the chance to see natural wonders and human kindness on three continents. While we thoroughly enjoyed the cuisine and wines of Europe and the wildlife and exotic cultures throughout Africa, it was crossing the United States that left the deepest impressions.
After nearly seven months abroad, we returned to the U.S. in sprawling, chaotic Los Angeles. Eager to escape the vast urban expanse, we quickly climbed into the high desert country, where we entered the slowly disappearing world of rural America. For the next three months, we talked to and stayed with people who are part of a forgotten and largely invisible nation.
Along Route 66 in California, Nevada and Arizona, we traveled the road that once epitomized the promise and excitement of the American Dream. The road that was once the path to the riches of the promised land of California is now crumbling with only a few run-down mom-andpop hotels for the occasional tourist. Now, most people head to California along the crowded Interstates staying at sterile, impersonal chain hotels.
We saw the skeletons of small industries that have long since departed for cheaper labor in developing countries, leaving rural towns to go through a reverse development of their own. It’s heartbreaking to see towns with empty playgrounds at shuttered schools and oncebustling main streets struggling to keep a single grocery store open throughout the
western U.S. Most people have fond memories of good jobs, safe neighborhoods and a happy future. Now that future seems uncertain at best.
Sometimes it’s hard to see the poverty throughout rural America because of the dignity of the people. Their indomitable spirit masks the hardships of a disappearing economy. Pride masks poverty. We stayed in campgrounds that are evolving into permanent homes for families struggling to make ends meet. People figuring each day how they will make it to the next.
Big agriculture has replaced small family farms and the small towns that were the hub of rural life. Many towns don’t even have a local diner — the Casey’s General Store chain now serves as the local food store and meeting place.
Yet, despite these hardships, we got to know a rural America that is unfailingly generous. In the 3,700 miles that we cycled across the U.S., we did not have a single unpleasant encounter. Instead, we had countless acts of kindness and compassion that represent everything that is good about this country.
We had people stop us on the road and insist that we stay at their homes for the night. While fixing a broken spoke in a rainstorm, no fewer than three cars stopped to offer us a ride to a church where we could stay or a garage where I could work out of the rain. We had several offers (which we were happy to accept) for dinner. One pickup truck driver in Missouri insisted on giving us a lift because we wouldn’t make our destination before dark. Another gave us a ride back to a town where I could (again) fix a broken spoke.
The kindness was not limited to political perspective. We were offered help or just company ranging from avowed Donald Trump supporters to earnest Bernie Sanders backers. We had religious people pray for our safety. No one asked about our political views. They were far more interested in whether we liked their town or their state.
What really struck me was how the people we meet were not interested in trying to classify us. There was no test to see if we were with them or against them. It was a feeling of solidarity — that we are all in this together. It was a total disconnect from the hyperpartisan tribal warfare of today’s political establishment. The people we met were kind and cooperative. They want things to work. They want — and desperately need — good jobs.
It’s easy to understand why so many people don’t vote. Why get involved in a political process that seeks to promote division? Many look fondly back to a time when political leaders were more interested in working to solve problems rather than sowing discontent of an “us vs. them” or a “rural vs. urban” divide. Rural voters can tell the difference between someone who has a “rural strategy” and someone who wants to fix problems rather than gain political power.
This bicycle odyssey has given me hope about the future simply because of the goodness inherent in most people. It may take time but those who seek to gain political capital by sowing divisions ultimately will be the biggest losers in a country that refuses to give up.