Miles with Maggie

by Steven K. Roberts Eureka, California November 28, 1986 After the 18 miles of insanity, we rode on to Arcata, “where the 60’s meet the sea,” and immediately began finding friends. Another of those surprises: there (and here, and here and there) prosper the values and attitudes that made the 60’s what they were —…

18 Miles of Insanity by Steven K. Roberts November 20, 1986 Do you ever read my stories and wonder what it really feels like to be out here, exposed to the world, unsure from one day to the next where I’ll sleep, who I’ll meet, what pleasures and pains will strike with the whim of…

by Steven K. Roberts Klamath, California November 19, 1986 The anticipation began building as it always does before a state line — but more so, given the fact that we were approaching California. California! This is it! Arbitrary and political or not, the state line took on grand proportions in my imagination: I squinted into the…

by Steven K. Roberts Lakeside, Oregon November 12, 1986 It had to happen eventually. Things have been easy too long; riding south in the Willamette Valley, even when wet, was flat and easy. But from Eugene, every road led skyward — east into the Cascades, south into the Siskiyous, or west into the Coast Range. Naturally…

by Steven K. Roberts Eugene, Oregon November 6, 1986 It’s odd sometimes, living this lifestyle sampler. In Salem — after a brutal 55-mile day of headwinds, rain, and shoulderless darkness — we settled in with a delightful couple who had sent an electronic invitation via CompuServe over two years ago. Huddling in a phone booth, I…

by Steven K. Roberts Lake Oswego, Oregon October 29, 1986 The warnings were true. It does rain in the Pacific Northwest. The trip from Castle Rock to St. Helens was a 42-mile marathon of spray and puddle, drizzle and bubble. Trucks blew by in a rage of wild grayness, my microphone tube filled up with…

by Steven K. Roberts Centralia, Washington October 24, 1986 It was dark, late: after midnight. The town — Montesano, Washington; the brain — mildly giddy on local beer and the fuzzy exhaustion of a 54 mile day. I lurked in the wet grass behind the Osterberg Motel, Maggie standing beside me and looking more than a…

by Steven K. Roberts Port Townsend, Washington October 15, 1986  It has begun at last. The bike sits quietly blinking beside the half-finished wing of a homebuilt aircraft. Batman the Manx sits half-snoozing in the doorway, I’m swilling Millstone coffee from my stainless steel traveling mug, and Maggie’s out there in our hosts’ kitchen, conjuring a…

by Steven K. Roberts Bainbridge Island, Washington October 10, 1986 Seventy-eight hours and counting fast. It’s Friday morning, 3 A.M., and I think I’ve become asynchronous with respect to the rest of the world — working all night and sleeping until the phone rings (as it always does, too early). I’m tired, puzzled over a couple…