Photo by @migeophoto // July 26, 2010 – Yukon to Cordell, Oklahoma – 84 miles // Today was tough. We have reached an awkward stretch of land that tessellates off into the distance, every mile precisely like the last. It reminds me of cycling in a gym. You pedal and pedal but don’t move an inch. Cordell, Oklahoma appeared on the horizon like a mirage. The road dead-ended at the Washita County courthouse, an imposing building that rose out of the center of town like a lighthouse emphasizing to travelers that: Yes, life does exist out here. Tonight, like many nights of the trip, I took an hour to detach myself from our traveling commune and explore the city streets. I have slowly learned what I should expect on these outings–a water tower, a volunteer fire department, a few bipolar cats. Locals will give me a quizzical stare and I’ll have a moment of wonder if I see the survival of the small town newspaper. There are always the local shops that sell a wide array of products that can only be summed up as ‘stuff.’ When I was on my way back to the church, I noticed a train car was abandoned on its tracks just a few blocks down the road. While I took the detour, a pickup truck pulled up behind me filled with a family of classic faces. They were piled into the front seat like an image that only exists in my imagined history of the United States. // These stories are from my cross-country bike trip with @bikeandbuild in 2010. In this image, two riders prop up their legs to release the lactic acid. See more under the hashtag #bikebuildtps

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Photo by @migeophoto // July 26, 2010 – Yukon to Cordell, Oklahoma – 84 miles // Today was tough. We have reached an awkward stretch of land that tessellates off into the distance, every mile precisely like the last. It reminds me of cycling in a gym. You pedal and pedal but don’t move an inch. Cordell, Oklahoma appeared on the horizon like a mirage. The road dead-ended at the Washita County courthouse, an imposing building that rose out of the center of town like a lighthouse emphasizing to travelers that: Yes, life does exist out here. Tonight, like many nights of the trip, I took an hour to detach myself from our traveling commune and explore the city streets. I have slowly learned what I should expect on these outings–a water tower, a volunteer fire department, a few bipolar cats. Locals will give me a quizzical stare and I’ll have a moment of wonder if I see the survival of the small town newspaper. There are always the local shops that sell a wide array of products that can only be summed up as ‘stuff.’ When I was on my way back to the church, I noticed a train car was abandoned on its tracks just a few blocks down the road. While I took the detour, a pickup truck pulled up behind me filled with a family of classic faces. They were piled into the front seat like an image that only exists in my imagined history of the United States. // These stories are from my cross-country bike trip with @bikeandbuild in 2010. In this image, two riders prop up their legs to release the lactic acid. See more under the hashtag #bikebuildtps


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