June 8th, 2026
I got on the road early, the sun had barely crested the horizon as I mounted my handsome black steed and headed for the dirt. I evaluated a route last night based on the expected wind speed and direction, then programmed it into the Garmin. An easy twenty-miler to scout the local gravel. After the county grader works a section of road, it can remain soft and chunky for several weeks, depending on traffic. It’s not much fun to pedal through, even with the fat tires on Trucker, and playing in the dirt is supposed to be fun, so I keep track of the chunky sections to plan around them.
The roads this morning were sweet, except for a few spots at creek crossings that had to be rebuilt after a recent rainstorm. Other than that, they were like riding on pavement, but with no traffic to worry about, and that really awesome, crunchy gravel sound. Today’s route went past the black hellhound’s house, and I really wasn’t up for racing him, so I tried to sneak by. Thankfully, he didn’t show up when I pedaled past; perhaps he’s not an early riser.
A few miles later, I came upon an antelope milling by the side of the road. He didn’t hang around, though, when I approached. He headed off across the high-plains savannah at a moderate lope (about 30 mph). For me to go that fast, I would be pushing my biggest gear downhill, downwind, and fearing for my life; for the turbo-goat, it was just a saunter. I always enjoy seeing wild grass-eaters on my rides. The not-so-wild cows are cool too, and the little calves this time of year are so cute, but they don’t fire my imagination like antelope and deer.
Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Where the air is so pure and the zephyrs so free
The breezes so balmy and light
That I would not exchange my home on the range
For all of the cities so bright
Yeah, if only those breezes were light and balmy all the time. I like the idea that deer and antelope play; I wonder if the grass-eaters have as much fun as the carnivores. “Home On The Range” is the state song of Kansas, and the lyrics resonate with me. They fit nicely with my dirt road dreams. I can feel and taste nature in the lyrics, and nature is at the center of why I spend as much time as possible out there.
The further we get from nature, the further we are from the truth. Nature teaches us what right and wrong look like. It shows us the universal moral principles embedded deeply in our own nature. “Right and Wrong” are not matters of opinion or taste any more than the multiplication table. You can perform a calculation incorrectly, but that does not change the truth.
June 10th, 2026
Sunrise is at 5:45, with predawn light a half-hour earlier. I was up at 5:00 this morning as usual, and while the coffee water was heating up, I went out to the patio and cast my nose into the wind to see if I could determine what it was going to do. There’s a big American flag a block away at Medicine Arrow Park that I can see from the patio, and it’s a good indicator, too. It was flapping in the predawn light, and it looked like the breeze was blowing from the northwest, as the forecast predicted.
The plan was to have a cup of coffee and then hit the dirt as early as possible, since the wind and temperature were expected to build throughout the morning. I knew the breeze would be in double digits by my departure, so I planned a zig-zag route to escape the headwind every few miles. The route took me on a couple of roads I haven’t been on in a long time. Several years for one of them, which reveals the abundance of opportunities I have for playing in the dirt. I ride thousands of miles a year on the dirt roads close to home, and it’s been years since I rode this road. Part of it, I suppose, is that the road doesn’t go anywhere.
It was hard on the first long stretch into the north wind, and I pondered perseverance. A knowing that the suffering now would pay off later, and there is no real schedule anyway. I designed “Trucker” with gearing capable of dealing with mountain passes loaded with 60 extra pounds of gear, so a moderate breeze is really no problem, physically anyway; it’s the mental anguish that aggravates my sensibilities.
“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” ~ Confucious
Mentally, it feels like going nowhere, but going somewhere isn’t the reason I’m out there; I’m supposed to be embracing the journey. I write about practicing slow living all the time, but when I get on the bike, I always want to be flying down the road in a big gear.
I reached the northern apex of the ride at about 10 miles in. The pain and suffering were over, at least for this ride, but like the Terminator, they’ll be back. A few more miles of crosswind, and then I turned downwind and became Grinning Falcon, Ruler of the High Planes, soaring on Wings of Steel. Downwind, downhill, sailing on for miles with barely a pedal turn except to push the speed higher. I thought about perseverance again, and it made a lot more sense on this side. Perseverance and patience are foundational. They build resilience, improve outcomes, and foster coherence.
Early in the morning sunlight
Soaring on the wings of dawn
Here I'll live and die with my wings in the sky
And I won't come down no more
Higher than the birds I'm flying
Crimson skies of ice and fire
Borne on wings of steel, I have so much to feel
And I won't come down no more
“Perseverance is always more fun on the downhill side.” – Grinning Falcon