My life these past two weeks has been a Rube Goldberg machine that somehow deposited me just in the nick of time at the Amtrak station in downtown Chicago to catch my train to Portland. I wrapped up things at my job, had at least five goodbye parties, a couple 5am meetups to row on the Channel with Ron and friends, an overnight bike trip to the Indiana Dunes, a mind blowing hamburger with Eads at Kuma’s Corner, out of town friends visiting, a meal with Grandma and cousins, and most recently, lots and lots of packing.
Of course I had left most things until the last minute, but as usual, the angels of perfect timing and my friends were by my side throughout the whole ordeal. After a few hours of sleep and a last load of stuff to storage, what better way to get down to Union Station than to bike through Ravenswood, a stop to load up on Trader Joe treats, past Wrigley Field on a gameday, and then a few miles along the Lake on a beautiful morning.
There was one last thing to do, christen my bike, and it seemed most fitting to happen right by Lake Michigan, the coast of which I’ve spent so much time falling in love with biking. I’ve had my Long Haul Trucker for just over a year now, and put about 4,500 miles on it, so we know each other well. After a splash of homemade cider on the front tire, the bike will now be known as Juniper.
During several camping trips in the canyon wilderness of Utah, I have become intrigued by the juniper tree, especially after finding shade underneath them while hiking. Not only because of their dark green color did the name seem fitting for my bike, but junipers are sturdy, steadfast, and generally things of beauty.
I am posting this in Havre, Montana.
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