July 1, 2003

I had said all along that I was leaving on July 1^st. And I did, kind of. Well pretty much left. I mean I wasn’t still at home. Ok I’ll settle for, “left but not departed.”

At around 4:00pm, I piled all my stuff on the back of the moped, giddy as a child to even get on the road at all. I’d be preparing, and planning, and working so hard for months for just this day, and everything was just about ready. So close, so very close, I could smell it, like a delicious cake in the oven almost ready to devour. But you always forget that cake smells good way before it’s ready to come out of the oven, and if you take it out, right when it smells ripe, you’re headed for messy, obnoxious, depressing disaster. Which is exactly what I got.

In any case, I revved up my moped, and headed for Harriman state park, about 30 miles northwest of my house, knowing that there were preparations that were still to be made, unforeseen adjustments to be ready to make, but it would all come together soon as could be. At least I was leaving on the day I said I was going to, a huge achievement in itself. I headed up Rt 9W, through Nyack and Haverstraw, keeping the ped at around 20mph because I was still well within the break-in period. (Actually I had about 40 miles on the odometer at that point, and the break-in period is the first 300 miles.)

In any case, I made my way happily onward, slow as a sleeping snail. Frankly, at this point, averaging 20 is a bit of an overstatement. I was pedaling up a lot of hills. And not even just the big hills, little buggers too. Actually, every time I got to almost any hill, I’d wind up either pedaling or walking. Inside 20 miles, I was getting really tired, but I was still so excited that I didn’t even care. I just foraged on ahead until I just couldn’t do it any more, and I had to take a rest. I stopped at a little pull-off, and there happened to be a couple of Orthodox Jewish guys with bicycles stopped there too. I hauled the ped onto its kickstand, and collapsed onto a big rock.

The two other fellows were dressed in clothes ordinary to Orthodox Jews: white button down shirts with tsalas showing through beneath; black slacks, bushy beards, and yarmulkes. One of them was much taller than the other, had reddish brown hair, a jovial smile, stood in front of me next to his bicycle. He was even taller than me (6’2”) and his big friendly smile and wise eyes, made me feel like a little kid. The other was shorter and more stout, with black hair a round head, and glasses.

“Hey there,” I said once my puffing subsided.

“Hello there, how are you,” the tall one replied.

“Not bad, not bad at all,” the taller one was clearly the talker of the pair. “Where you headed?”

“California,”

“California?! Wow that’s a long way. On that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Wow, when did you start?”

“Just today.”

“Where from?”

“Nyack. Where are you headed?”

“Ahh, we’re just two old men out to get some exercise.”

“How fast does that thing go?” asked the shorter one as he sipped water from his canteen.

“About 20-30” I said.

“Let me ask you, are you Jewish?” the tall one said.

“Yep,” I replied.

“I knew it. I could see it in your face. What’s your name?”

“Avery,” I replied.

“Well let me tell you something, we Jews, we like to bring with us a little money to do mitzvahs,” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out maybe twenty dollars in ones and fives. “Well in any case, here,” and handed me a one dollar bill. “When you get to California, give it to charity, a Jewish charity. It will help you on your way,” he said.

“I absolutely will,” I said, putting the money into a side pocket in my wallet.

He smiled broadly and shook my hand as a white Ford Taurus pulled up on the other side of the road, and another Orthodox fellow stuck his head out of the open window. “Nice to meet you Avery, good luck on your trip.”

“Thanks so much,” I said.

“And do me a favor, do something special for the Sabbath,” he said. He and his friend got on their bicycles and pedaled their way up towards the car.

I kicked the ped alive again, and grinned all over. The adventure had begun.

The campsite turned out to be only a few hundred feet more up the hill, and I pulled in wearily, got a site, and went to check it out. It was absolutely gorgeous. Covered in magnificent mountain laurel bushes, overwhelmed by mountain laurel bushes; their brilliant white flowers were intoxicating. I set up my cute little tent for the first time and took a nap. By the time I got up, it was dark, and I almost stepped in a puddle of stress that had thawed from my braind and settled into a bucket and was quickly evaporating. My father and cousin came up later, and we built a small fire and chatted about the remaining loose ends that needed to be tied up. I’d left, and my Departure was imminent.