Not to cart out dead-horse political tropes from a long-dead political horse race …

BUT remember that conservative snowflake battlecry/outcry from the 2012 presidential election campaign? ‘You didn’t build that‘? Romney— yerp! I mean, PACsnotdirectlyassociatedwiththeMittRomneyCampaignforpresident —put out ads slamming Obama for daring to suggest that the efforts of individual Americans to build businesses were not made solo in a vacuum but rather were foundationally supported by efforts of other Americans (i.e., the ones who made your widgets in the factory and the ones who built the roads that the trucks that others built could traverse upon to ship your widgets to the stores that sold your widgets, stores where the lights were kept on by the proprietors of said stores who paid their electric bills to companies where other Americans fixed shit on an electric grid and on and on and telephone poles and railways and engineering and blah blah infrastructure and wide-ranging human effort etc. and so forth…).

What’s yer point, Getzoff? Oh, right. The point.

The point is that despite the fact that I am calling this a ‘solo’ bike tour (because that’s what it’s called when you’re doing the ride by yourself, unsupported by your teammates/the peloton, your fellow retiree spouse driving alongside you in the RV, or hired SAG support [Support And Gear] monitoring vital signs and doping you when red blood cell levels are below elite athlete standards and lugging your extra shorts and tools for days and all your bedding from home and brow wipes and butt wipes… or even just a regular ol’ constant travel buddy), I have already had a lot of help to make this happen – before the actual pedaling has begun.

Right this very second, I am extremely grateful for everything and everybody. More specifically, Leo from I. Martin Bicycles who packed up Whitey Jackson so I could bring him on the plane, and then John (in my phone as John Natalie’s Friend – Natalie = sister, with whom I am staying in the DC Metro area and from whose pad I will be setting off) who expertly put my trusted bike back together (with some inexpert help from me) last night. By the way, John is crazy about old school bikes. He restores them. His collection is magnificent, and he rides them all. If you ever come upon an early 1970s Masi (62″ frame), please let him/us know.

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John with Whitey Jackson reassembled and pair of scissors used to open box.

And my great friend and Griffith Park Dope Pedallers founding member and longtime cycling maniac, Peter King Robbins, who is a fucking king-and-his-entire-court-and-kingdom of a fantastic artist who designed the H-bar C-fess logo:

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Kingmaker!

And of course my sister and brother-in-law Larry and my niece Allison for letting me stay here and prep, and Apinya for driving me to the airport and for renting my apartment while I’m gone, and Daniel the airport shuttle driver, and the dude I met at the airport in Baltimore at 4:30am who just got back from riding a bike around South Korea for watching my bike while I ran to find the shuttle driver, and Ashley S. the Millennial half of our GenXer/Millennial love affair that has effectively blossomed my social media capacities, and for all the roads and widgets, far and wide. Oh, and my parents for having sex at least twice and doing their best not to drop me on my head hard enough where it would have rendered this experience impossible. And the Universe for not making me dead yet.

BTW, I prefer to wipe my own butt in all circumstances.

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