“I’m a stranger in a land that’s anything but strange.”—Andrew Bird, Saints Preservus

I took my bike to the shop the other day. I haven’t ridden in over a year. It has a flat. It’s been locked up outside through rain and ash, and whatever other weather has come our way during that time.

I’m inspired to get back on and start pedaling away again. Eleanor Davis’s You & a Bike & a Road (2017, Kayoma Press) is the spark. It’s the story of her bike tour from Arizona to Georgia told by the illustrations she made along the way. It’s about perseverance and depression and kindness.

 It’s a story about the people in our border states and the complicated realities of those crossing into the US without documents and those paid to stop them.

It’s one woman’s incredible journey, weeks long, by herself with just her bicycle, the open road, and the people—friends, family, and strangers alike—in her corner along the way.

The idea of a long bike tour doesn’t interest me. Especially one through unfamiliar parts of these United States. I don’t have faith those same strangers would treat me with the openness and compassion that she found throughout. I may be wrong about that but I’m not willing to chance it.

I do love getting up to speed on my bike, though, feeling the wind going with me, and just slicing through neighborhoods regardless of my destination. It’s been too long since I’ve done that.

It’s been too long since I’ve joined a cicLAvia.

It’s been too long since I’ve just awoken on a weekend morning and decided to ride. Just me, my bike, and the road.

It’ll be ready at the shop on Thursday.

Just in time.