What’s in An Empty Pizza Box?

By Frosty Wooldridge

This week, our country continues spiraling into confusion, anger, racial confrontation and presidential combat. Trump is bombastic and Biden has lost his mind! One senatorial candidate calls another a villain while the other calls his opponent a crook. We seem to be pulling apart at the seams. I have very dear liberal friends and conservative friends who are willing to break up their friendships over who is “right” to run our country.

We’ve got black and white people stomping on Old Glory. Kids disrespect their country and want to destroy it. Covid continues killing thousands of Americans. To tell you the truth, I’m sick of watching the evening news. I’m sick of being stressed. I see white people afraid to walk by black people. I’m sick of the bad news. I’m really sick of Antifa, Boogaloo and BLM.

Therefore, this column represents most people in America. It represents our highest and best as human beings. And I must share with you: we’re going to come through this tempest because we love America, even with its warts and shortfalls. It’s our only home. It’s not like we can move to Africa, India, China or Mexico for a better life. All of us of every race, color and racial group need to come together. If we don’t, we could ruin, even destroy the finest civilization ever created on Earth. I might add, if you don’t like America, just visit Africa or India or China and/or 50 other third world countries for a heavy dose of reality. I have, and it’s not pretty out there for billions across the globe.

So, please enjoy this short story of my travels on a bicycle, coast to coast, across America. It will warm your heart and give you hope, along with a big smile across your face.

This story finds us at the tail-end of our 4,100-mile coast to coast bicycle adventure by a bunch of 70-year old’s. When I was young, I didn’t think much about it during my first crossing in 1975, but now that I’m a senior citizen, every day grows more precious and the adventure more meaningful.

As I cruised into Vermont on the tail-end of our bicycle adventure, I lagged behind my friends Gerry and Don by an hour. We pedaled over hills, hills and more hills. Because I take a lot of pictures, I often fell back several miles.

It took me 15 minutes to get a great shot of a muskrat paddling across a glass-still pond. Nothing like wildlife going about their daily business. He created a V-wake behind him that cut across the pond. Two diving ducks created circles. When the V-wake intersected with the rippling circles, it created a great photograph. I love the creativity of Mother Nature.

As for the speed of my bicycle, I call it the “pleasure pace” which means I enjoy every mile. Some call it “Eudemonia”, “Satori”, or “The Perfect Speed.” It’s the connection of mind, body and spirit coming together to form a natural “high” or “total happiness.” When you pedal a bicycle through such beauty for eight hours a day, it transforms you and becomes a winsome dance. I’ve discovered over the years that bicycling pertains more to a spiritual experience than a physical one. No, I’m not saying it’s a picnic busting over a 12,000-foot pass in the Rocky Mountains, but then, the views more than compensate. As you can see from the picture, I’d choose the mountains seven days a week.

##