An hour before my dad and I were to head out, I rode the 1991 Bridgestone MB-4 for the first time in
almost a decade down the neighborhood street. I think the last time I rode it was for a day-long ride back in 1995.
That moment also marked the first time I've been on a bike since August 1998- I should have probably biked a few times
before embarking on a 45-day bicycle tour.
Everything seemed to function normally, and the bike handling was as I remembered it when I was an
enthusiatic young rider in San Antonio, TX. The MB-4 had been a great friend all of those years in the early 1990's,
and today would be the first of many days we would be well reacquainted.
At 3:00 pm, my dad dropped me off on Highway 290 just outside of metropolitan Houston's reach,
but the traffic was still heavy. I just needed a place to start biking where there was a good
shoulder and I didn't have to cross a light every 1 or 2 miles. A few minutes earlier, we had
passed a bank sign flashing 99 F on a this cloudless day as if Houston was some oasis in the
desert. It must have been 100 F or higher during 1:00 to 2:00 pm hours.
Not having a planned direction, before leaving home I decided it was not a good idea to head
south into Mexico, where it would surely only be hotter. The best bet would be to head north,
probably towards Austin and the hills, and then determine directions from there.
Shortly after we parted, I biked about a mile before realizing the front brake cables were not tight. Just biking down
the street earlier, I didn't squeeze heavily on the cantilevers. Great, this is the result of sloppy
preparation. I pulled under the highway at a creek crossing and adjusted the cable with the bike tool. Fortunately,
it didn't require 2 tools for the bolt and screw.
When the bike was flipped upside down, the mirror and bike computer were scratched because I forgot to remove
them and there aren't any bar ends to hold up the front of the bike off the ground. I'm hoping this wasn't an omen of
things ahead.
Waller was the first town stop on this journey. I decided not to eat in an Arby's at a truck stop since
there didn't seem to be a good place to lock the bike and there were some transients waiting for rides from
truckers. I crossed underneath the highway and decided on Jack in the Box. First day of this trip, and I'm
already eating fast food. It was convenient and I could fill the water bottle for tonight. I ordered the
typical sourdough hamburger combo with 2 hamburgers for tomorrow's breakfast.
After leaving the restaurant, there wasn't much daylight left. I had promised my dad I would not bike in
the dark, so I had less than an hour to find someplace. About 1/2 mile down the feeder road, a low cut grassy field
piqued my interest, and I was able to walk the bike all the way to the back where no one would spot me. Tomorrow, I planned
to leave very early to avoid the brutally humid southeast Texas heat, yet I'm not an early bird.
Finding a sleeping spot tonight was easy, maybe even lucky considering how late it was, but I knew doing that everynight was bound to become burdensome- sometimes to a point
when I wondered why I travel on a budget.
An hour before my dad and I were to head out, I rode the 1991 Bridgestone MB-4 for the first time in
almost a decade down the neighborhood street. I think the last time I rode it was for a day-long ride back in 1995.
That moment also marked the first time I've been on a bike since August 1998- I should have probably biked a few times
before embarking on a 45-day bicycle tour.
Everything seemed to function normally, and the bike handling was as I remembered it when I was an
enthusiatic young rider in San Antonio, TX. The MB-4 had been a great friend all of those years in the early 1990's,
and today would be the first of many days we would be well reacquainted.