A Man, a Plan, I Know I Can (Ride 7,500 Miles)

A Man, a Plan, I Know I Can (Ride 7,500 Miles)

(January 30, 2022)

 

When I decided to switch this story from my old blog, and post it here, I cleaned up spelling and added a word or two, mostly for clarity, to the story. The italicized material is new.

 

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Reminded daily that the vast majority of people are good.

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I lied, I suppose, when I said in 2007, I wouldn’t ride across the country solo, again, if my wife was opposed. I took a second cross-country ride in 2011. 

On my first ride, in 2007, I raised $13,500 JDRF. I told my students about my plan, and promised to ride 5,000 miles if they helped me raise $5,000. They pitched in, as did parents, others in the Loveland, Ohio community, friends, relatives, and complete strangers. One of the greatest joys of this trip was being reminded every day that the vast majority of people are good, and kind, and generous and want to help if they see a way.

 

I live in Glendale, Ohio. In the summer of 2010, while a member of the Harry Whiting Brown community group, I came up with an idea to paint their three-story building for free. It’s a complicated tale, but we got three bids. Then we took the lowest, and I said I’d do the job for $1,000 less, and after costs donate everything left to JDRF. 

That got us $11,000 more for the cause of finding a cure. By that time, I was retired from teaching. I had to scrape almost every inch of the old building, but I lost the 25 pounds I’d gained since I finished my first ride.

Painting the building was a good way to lose weight.

Not a good picture - but I always find kids who are type-1, and ride in their name.

The project turned out well, I think.

 

Okay. True. I gained it all back by 2011.

 

As the rest of this blog indicates, that year, I did my second ride across the USA, at age 62. I didn’t raise as much money for JDRF as the first time, because I didn’t want to annoy people who donated the first time, but did pass the $10,000 mark, so I’m proud to have done my small part, to hopefully find a cure for type-1 diabetes.

This is me, before my second ride, looking like a tub of lard.
Camping out at Bonnaroo Music Festival, 2011.

 

Fifteen years after my first ride across the United States, I still have four great kids, now have three grandchildren (so far), and Emily, our type-1 diabetic, went on to graduate from Ohio State. Now she’s a nurse. Care for type-1’s has advanced dramatically since the day we first found out she was sick. But. Still. No cure. Now, Emily has a pump, which reads blood-sugar levels, and gives her insulin she needs to live. I could tell you all about how the big pharmaceutical companies manage to keep raising the price of insulin. 

That’s another blog, though.

 

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No one ever said I was smart.

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Now, I’m getting the urge to take another ride. Maybe raise money again. Not sure I want to be a pest, though. We’ll see. 

I’ll be 73 this April. At 62, I knew I could do the second ride. And I’ve talked to hundreds of people since, who I know could do these same kinds of rides. I tell anyone who has ridden 100 miles in a day, that going across the country is just a matter of pedaling more days. 

I was thinking of trying to ride 7,300 miles this spring and summer; but to be honest, my wife (who is normally a very sweet woman) shot me the evil eye.

 

I was thinking it would be cool to fly out to Portland this spring, where our daughter Sarah and her husband Logan live, and ride down the Pacific coast. I’d be sure I was in shape, and make sure my heart attack (April 26, 2021) wasn’t the end of my riding days. Ironically, I was taking a short ride the day I had my attack (blocked arteries – and too many Oreos for a pre-ride snack). I knew I didn’t feel good, but I was nine miles from home. So. Heck. I decided to ride back. 

Ha, ha. No one ever said I was smart.

Yep. I still had my bicycle shoes on when the emergency squad took me to the hospital.

 

Anyway. Here’s my new plan. My wife and I are going to Europe next year. That will be our big trip. In 2024, I turn 75. And, as I’ve said, I don’t want to waste my youth. That means, in April 2024, I’d fly to Portland and ride solo down the coast. I’d carry my own gear again, of course. After that, I’d need someone to ride with, west-to-east.

No companion. NO RIDE. That’s now my wife’s ironclad rule. I figure I’d still be good 80 miles per day.

 

My dream would be to find someone young, 25 or so being perfect, to do the second leg of the trip – and possibly the third leg of this little jaunt. I think there’d be a real story in that. So, someone with writing skills would be great. I can remember back sixty years, to an era of Jim Crow, and “women are too weak to do this or that” and when climate change was never a worry. We had to worry about polio, but not the coronavirus. The question then would be, what would the world look like in sixty more years – in 2084 – when a young-ish rider in 2024 would likely be alive. I could do almost any route again, but I’d like to start from San Clemente, California – and ride across Camp Pendleton, for old time’s sake. (I did two years in the Marines – as a supply clerk. I used to tell my students I protected our country with my trusty staple gun.) 

So: California to somewhere on the Atlantic coast – That would take care of May and June.

 

Places I’d like to see heading east: Joshua Tree National Park, because I’ve heard the stars amaze. Flagstaff, Arizona? Or bend up into Utah, and head for Zion or Bryce Canyon national parks? Possibly a stop to see Canyon de Chelly National Monument, instead. The Anasazi ruins, I’ve heard, are spectacular. Not sure, after that. I could go any way across Texas and be happy, and if I could, I’d hit Atlanta, since my daughter Abby and her husband Alex live there. I’d hit the Atlantic Ocean somewhere, depending on what my so-far-imaginary companion would like (assuming I hadn’t been ditched already, back in Arizona, for talking too much about the “good old days,” and grumbling about “kids today”). 

I kind of think that might be enough for one rider. So I assume I’d need to pick up a second young-ish rider and go back, east-to-west. Or maybe I can find a young rider with a high tolerance for old coots. 

This leg would fill up July and August.

 

Start at the Atlantic, bend north, maybe up the Blue Ridge Parkway. That’s a nice place to ride. Not sure, again. I’d like to pass through Granville, Ohio, where Emily, her boyfriend Ryan, his two kids, and their twins now live. Then, on to Cincinnati, to show my wife I’m still going strong, see my son Seth and his daughter Ellora, age 8 now, age 10, then. I’d make my route fit pretty much what a companion rider would like. I’ve pedaled up the Going to the Sun Highway in Glacier National Park, and that’s an absolute rush. I’ve crossed Yellowstone Park on both cross-country rides, and pedaled through Yosemite in 2011. All those places (and many others along the way) have been spectacular. 

I also pedaled east in 1999, leaving from Yellowstone, headed for Ohio, and came through Nebraska that time. Just missed getting caught in a tornado, which was fun.

My wife, hiking in Glacier National Park.

That's the "Going to the Sun Highway."

Oh, and, I might have to branch off at the end, if I was riding with someone, because I’d want to finish in Portland, Oregon, where my hypothetical trip would begin.

 

**** 

Here’s the story in a nutshell. I’ll be looking for a young rider, or two, if I can find any. 

I’ll be looking a rider, or riders, who like to write. I think you could get a book out of a trip like this. 

Older riders could be good, if young riders think, “Why in god’s name would I want to ride with a dinosaur like this bloke?” 

I carry my own gear. I like the challenge. And I find it allows for flexible camping, which is almost always fun.

Stealth camping, not far from Mt. Rushmore. Several deer watched me pack up in the morning.

I took this picture after reaching the top of Tioga Pass, leading into Yosemite.

One of my favorite pictures of Yosemite.

I do wimp out occasionally and spring for cheap motel rooms. Blistering heat, for example, makes air-conditioning sound good. 

I start slow in the morning, and prefer to eat a big breakfast at some cafe, and talk with the local people. 

I’m a liberal, so that might annoy some folks; but I know how to keep my mouth shut if that helps.

 

If anyone is interested, I can be reached in various ways. I may be old but I’m on Facebook, Twitter (but don’t know how to use it), have email vilejjv@yahoo.com, and a phone, (513-479-4988) which is almost always on silent, and therefore usually misplaced. 

My address (if anyone knows how to write real letters anymore): 

John J. Viall

750 Woodbine Avenue

Glendale, Ohio 45246

  

I also have a blog on teaching, which used to do very well, although I don’t post much anymore. I did love teaching, though. And I do post history materials every so often. 

Finally, I have a blog that deals with Donald J. Trump. But if you like Trump, you definitely don’t want to read that. 

And, of course, I have this excellent blog about bicycling across the U.S.A.