I stopped to pay my respects at this roadside “ghost bike” descanso (New Mexican for a roadside memorial where someone died) along Highway 101, just north of the state park. My assumption is that John Mello died cycling along this section of highway, most likely hit by a car or truck.
I’m at risk of being killed on my bike. Two events that occur randomly keep this awareness fresh. One is the occasional car, logging truck or behemoth class A motor home that passes by just a little too close on a narrow stretch of road with little shoulder. The other is the curious passerby who asks if I worry about being hit out there, or who would be too afraid of the dangers to do what I’m doing. To the former I simply go on about my pedaling, grateful to have dodged that bullet – to be sure, none have been so close as to pose a real threat to my safety, but rather just pressing into my safety zone. To the latter I simply explain gently that I prefer not to live in fear, and that the richness of the experience is worth the threat to my safety.
Hey there…..you getting these via the website? This is great stuff.
I particularly liked this:
” Other beings pay a steep price for our speed and comfort. This was the third of three recent adult does killed by cars along today’s route. On a bike I can’t hurt an animal larger than a snake.”
Allan….fuck yeah!
NO FEAR. It doesn’t mean you are foolhardy, just that you accept the risk of living in the way that is most fulfilling for you. People find it hard to understand why I chose to travel alone in Central America. It’s a great way to stay in the moment, and to feel true equality with fellow travelers who live there. Once, on a crazy bus ride on narrow mountain roads, I thought that if we went over the edge and I died, my family would be really, really sad. In the next second I realize that everbody on that bus had a family that would be shattered if they died. And my prayers expanded to include every soul on that bus.