Generosity: Expect the unexpected, but do not rely on it...

It was late in the afternoon when I rode into a Michigan McDonald's. After finding an appropriate spot against the windows to lean my rig, I was approached by a three-generation family inquiring about my trip. After chatting the same chat I had come accustomed to, we made our way inside to make our orders. The kids had to decide, so I went ahead of them. I had left my wallet with the bike and so I fished through my pockets to pull out whatever change I had. Enough, as it were, for a one dollar burger.

I made my order, got my burger -- underwhelmingly sitting alone atop the large tray -- wished the family well and sat down. Within a minute of finding my place, the eldest of the family walked over to me. "We would like to help you on your trip," he said, handing me a five dollar bill. "Go get yourself a real burger. Go order a Big Mac."

Honks, Miles vs Kilometres and cheap American tastiness…

I am well over 1000 kms into my journey across Canada and the United States on my bicycle. Days riding solo through northern Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan leave you with plenty of time to mull about in your own head. Indeed, these are often the best times. Similarly to watching the clock slowly countdown at work, there are few times more tedious and frustrating than those where you find yourself focusing only on the bike computer as the kilometers tick away at a painfully slow pace.

The journey so far has brought something to mind. Cyclists and motorists alike are used to honks from cars. But not every honk is the same. My two weeks on the road has led me to identify a honk as one of three types.

The first honk, the ‘Get off the fuckin’ road’ honk, is the one most common among urban cyclists, but has only occurred a handful of times on my trip. We all know the type. People lean on the horn, as if recording a soundtrack for a stereotypical downtown New York TV show. I was used to them in cities when I had no gear on my bike, but it surprises me that I’ve received these honks with a fully loaded bike. Again, it has been most common in the cities, as I tend to arrive during rush hour, some cars seem to be upset that my hundred pounds of bike is taking up a small segment of the lane. Do I look like a typical cyclist? Perhaps the most frightening type of this honk occurred on my first day while travelling south of Steinbach, MB. With no shoulder, some douchebag in a red Dodge Caliber honked at me as he had to slow down to pass me. Little bother. But a few minutes later he doubled back and yelled at me as he passed, “get off the road you mother –“! I can only imagine he wasn’t following that up with ‘Theresa’. These honks are few and far between, but can be quite bothersome.

The second type of honk is the warning honk. These are quick and tend to come from far away. Typically, a trucker or car will notice that I’m straddling the lane as they approach and just want to warn me – without scaring me – that they are coming and I should do my best to get out of the way. These are very much appreciated, as I tend to go into a daze sometimes and forget that I’m not in the shoulder.

The third is the friendly, ‘look it’s a crazy cyclist’ honk. These tend to come from people coming the other way along the road and are quick and as happy as a honk can get. Sometimes they consist of a series of quick honks, like when you see a friend on the street. As if the cars are trying to say hello, these honks really raise my spirit sometimes.

Another aspect of the trip that dominates my riding days, particularly in the United States, is when I see mile markers. Miles are longer than kilometers and I’ve grown up using kilometers to measure my biking distance. So when you see a mile marker for only 30, a feeling comes over you that you are only 30 kms away, whereas in reality you are a good 50 kms away. The repeated psychological impact of this effect can be very detrimental, especially on the days where you are struggling and your mind is not working as effectively as it could be.

Lastly, I have fallen in love with cheap American tastiness. It is not until spending some time in this country that I realize that my typical diet would be far cheaper in the United States. I love fast food and I love beer. With the dollar near parity, it is wonderful to go into a McDonald’s (the main source of my free WiFi) and enjoy three or four burgers for under $5.00. Mmmm, Dollar Menu. But it doesn’t stop at McDonald’s. I discovered that Little Caesars sells Hot-n-Ready’s for $5, just like in Canada, except that the pizzas are size large, not medium. And finally, beer is amazingly cheap. I went into a corner store and saw that Labatt Blue, which was ‘imported’ was $10 for a 12 pack. In Canada, you’d be looking closer to $19 or $20, and it’s a domestic. A six pack of a quality microbrew only set me back $7 and at least two specials at little bars had giant beers (at least 2 pints) for $4.00 a piece. Good quality beer, too.

What a country.  

A Glowing Night...

From afar one would be hard pressed not to contact Mulder & Skully. A mash of glowing reds and greens dancing in the darkness as a changing light scurries between them. A closer inspection brings you to an island nestled on the edge of the Otonabee River. Whoops, hollers and laughter dominate an otherwise still night as empty beer bottles and cans are scattered among a plethora of parked bicycles. The smell of surrounding rain is interrupted only briefly by the passing allure of tobacco and marijuana. Welcome to the Midsummer's Night GloGame.

The Radioactive Laboratory...

Having a superpower would be cool. Books, movies and TV, in their infinite wisdom, have led me to the conclusion that there is no better way to acquire such powers than through exposure to radioactive material. Reality, however, seems to prove otherwise and was quick to erode any superhuman hopes I had as I walked past a laboratory only recently marked 'Radioactive'.

What could he possibly do next?

Imagine walking the entire length of the Amazon River. It should last about 7,000 kms. But it's no ordinary walk. Factor in exotic and dangerous plants, bugs that lay their eggs in your head, angry indigenous tribes that try to kill you, piranha infested waters and to cap it all off, major flooding that adds another 3,000 km to your trek. I'm sure the scenery is beautiful, though.

A 34 year-old British Army captain is about to finish the trek after nearly three years. Having managed to Tweet his experiences the whole way, he will soon begin writing a book and then begin a sequel; another crazy trip. I presume the Army isn't all that worried about him if he's doing stuff like this all the time.

But I do wonder, what could he possibly do next?

Losing a TV Show...

This has been a sad weekend. After three months, another good relationship has come to an end. We spent nights together while eating pizza, mornings after an early run and countless hours on a train. Indeed, it was on my last VIA Train journey back to Peterborough that my love affair with the infamous TV show Nip/Tuck began.

Outside of struggling to sleep, my time was divided to the show's first season and the wonderful book The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I had purchased the first three seasons without having ever seen a single episode, but it paid off. I quickly grew attracted to the show and within weeks had already ordered more of the seasons. The show was utterly ridiculous and dramatic, but wildly entertaining. It followed the practice of two plastic surgeons and all the things they get into, all in a raunchy, sex, drugs and rock and roll package you expect from some high profile shows.

Too much food...

If you're anything like me, you eat a lot. Your ability to prohibit the creation of leftovers and scarf down the remains of others' meals at a fancy restaurant quickly become the brunt of jokes. Family members who love to see their food be eaten jump at the opportunity to feed you, while those with an economical food budget cringe of the thought of hosting you for dinner.

And if you're as lucky as I am, your metabolism has yet to shut down and massive meals seem to do little damage to your waistline.

This is never a problem, except in two situations.

The legacy of exes...

A familiar nervousness ran through me as the vehicle of an ex-girlfriend drove past me this morning. As happy as I was to see the car speed away quickly, another part of me was tugging at the possibility of her stopping. Our relationship since the breakup had been spotty but civil. When Christmas or a birthday rolled around, a series of emails would be sent back and forth, largely to see what the other one was up to. In these messages it is difficult to decipher what is written out of genuine interest and what is written for the sake of an obligatory politeness. Regardless, it was some contact. A piece of me had wanted to maintain contact since the breakup.

Daytime TV that might actually matter...

My summer job provides me the liberty of working from home when I need to and from time to time I find myself watching daytime TV. Daytime TV is not quite filled with the top notch programming money can buy. I can't stand Oprah, Dr. Phil, the ridiculous soap operas and any of the reality courtroom shows. Even Maury, which once entertained my sister and in the mornings when we stayed home from school with wacky makeovers and fun feel-good stories, has now dedicated 99% of his efforts to determining who will be paying child support or who is and isn't cheating.

Ugh, room mates...

I've been living on my own for several years now and with room mates that entire time. Some have been good, others not so much. I've probably been somewhere in the middle as a room mate; never the best and most cleanly, but certainly never the worst. I've lived with people that would leave the element on overnight, on more than one occasion. Right now I'm subletting from my sister in a large house. The only other person living there is my sister's friend, whose boyfriend is apparently also a permanent occupant, despite not paying rent and having a place of his own several streets down. In my years of living on my own, I've never received such a brash, inappropriate and inaccurately condescending scathing of my behaviour as a room mate as I did this evening -- from the non-resident boyfriend, no less.

Good luck getting any ticket to a Miami game...

Well, after an exhausting hour long announcement from Lebron James, it looks as though Miami Heat games will be the hottest ticket in town. But after seeing video of Cleveland Cavaliers James jerseys being burned in the streets of Ohio, I would suggest King James triple his motorcade and get the hell out of dodge as quickly as possible. And after months of speculation leading to the three most coveted free agents in one year for decades signing with the same team, only one request remains: win a championship next year, and at least three in the next four years.

The World Cup, Fox News North and Snogging Island...

Anyone suffering from apiphobia (the fear of bees) should try their best to stay away from watching this year's World Cup. The incessant drone of the vuvuzelas creates a playing atmosphere not unlike a beehive, which despite the so-called "authetic touch of South African football", is overwhelmingly annoying. The tournament, otherwise, has not disappointed so far, unless of course you are a supporter of the penultimate powerhouses. If you are a supporter of England, France, Italy, Germany and Spain, your experience of the tournament so far has undoubtedly been a roller coaster ride, if not completely deflating.