About two week ago, I received a call from a woman, Hannah, asking if I might be able to provide a place for four bicyclists to stay or pitch their tents. They were bicycling cross country, having started in Irvine, CA and were making their way to North Carolina and then New York state. She obtained my number through warmshowers.org, an organization that I belong to for bicyclists to find places to stay along their route. I said I would be more than happy to have them stay but, unfortunately, I would be off on a small bike trip (Fayetteville - Little Rock) on the requested date. However, I called my neighbor John and asked if he would be willing to allow them to pitch their tents in his yard. He was game and I called Hannah back and told her the good news.
During my ride to Little Rock, I thought of them often as they were riding through eastern Oklahoma and western Arkansas when lots of storms were passing through. I was staying at the cabin in Petit Jean when they arrived at John and Patti's and I called to see if they made it okay. Everyone was there but tired after a very long day or riding. They ended up sleeping inside as more storms passed through Fayetteville that night.
It is odd how we form bonds sometimes. I never met them and I only talked with Hannah but I felt a connection. I continued to think about them this past week, picturing where they were along their route as they made their way through Arkansas. So, it was very shocking news to find out this morning that one of the four, Bill, was struck by a pickup truck and killed on Monday.
Going out for the daily ride this morning was certainly an odd experience. I thought of just riding in the neighborhood but I wanted to ride somewhere more special to me so I headed for Habberton Rd. And, riding in the neighborhood felt as if it was a safe way out, a way of not confronting traffic after hearing the news.
Getting to Habberton meant going down the long hill on Hwy 45. A car did not pass until I was almost at the bottom and when it did there was definitely a heightened sense of nervousness, as if every car was out to get me. Getting on Habberton was quiet and very safe and offered the sort of sanctuary I was looking for as I continued to digest the news.
Turning on another road off of Habberton, whose name I can't remember but runs towards the river, I came across an old brown Lab slowly making its way down the road.
Though I had traveled that road often over several years, it was the first time I saw her. I got off my bike and called her over. She slowly made her way to me, gave me a sniff and then was very happy to let me pet her. She was just what I needed today as I spent a couple of minutes with her giving her attention which she thoroughly enjoyed.
I made my way back to Habberton, taking it to where it runs along a finger of Beaver Lake. At one point, I thought about John's comment to me this morning when I talked with him before heading out on my daily ride. "Be extra careful," he said. I always try to be extra careful. But as I kept my eye on a truck in a driveway waiting to back out and then spotted the car approaching me from the opposite direction, I remembered that there are hundred of ways that it's so easy to let one's guard down as I did not realize that a car was coming up on me from the rear until it almost passed me. Sometimes it seems as if we just need a lot of good luck on our side when we are riding out there.
In Bill's case, they were on a straight piece of road when the pickup truck came up from behind and hit him. After all the curvy and hilly roads they successfully made it through in Arkansas, bad luck came on a straight-away.
John talked with Hannah this morning and she said she is still at a loss for words, that it all seems very surreal. She also said that the fact that they were having a blast the past few days and really enjoying the ride through the Ozarks made this a little bit easier to deal with. Bill, in particular, was really enjoying himself. The last two lines of Paul's entry in his blog the day before Bill was killed, seems very poignant: "We had an incredible time with Dorris and Alan at Camp Cody. Yesterday might have been my favorite day/night of the trip. I love the ozarks/boston mountains."
For Bill.
Today's Ride: 1hr 28mins. 15.17 miles. 70 degrees Miles YTD: 2,952.49
So sad. This is something I worry about each time my husband goes out on his bike. I feel so much for Bill's family and friends. It's hard to put into words how sad and angry this makes me. I just have to believe that for the most part there are good people out there who are careful around cyclists. Please be careful and extra vigilant. Unfortunately, the burden of vigilance falls on you.
ReplyDeleteI certainly feel for his family and friends as well. It is maddening how, with just a bit more attention on the part of the driver, the accident certainly could have been avoided. The vast majority of drivers are very respectful or biking would be no fun at all. And, yes, we have to remain constantly vigil when we ride for that very small 1 or 2%.
ReplyDeleteHi, I just learned today (January 10, 2011) from a cousin that the son of one of my first cousins died in May. Researching the issue, I found it was Bill Cranshw while he was cycling across the country, like his father and uncle did earlier in their lives. I am very saddened by this. I'll give his parents a call tomorrow. Meanwhile, thank you for writing about this. I can identify with Bill here as I myself am an avid cyclist (recumbent trike actually). So, sad about Bill and the loss his family and friends feel.
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