The Pettit Files, the most Excellent miss adventures of Jonny P~My mind is rambling
Was it all a dream? Banff, Elkford, Roosevelt, Eureka, white fish, Seeley lake, Butte. Polaris, Lima, Idaho, Jackson, Atlantic city. The great basin, Rawlings, Steamboat Springs, Frisco, Platoro. El Rito, Cuba, Grants, Pie Town, Silver City. Sepa, Hachita and the boarder? SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.
Endless miles of snow walks, mud runs. Rain showers that last for weeks with icy winds. Forrest fires with smoke so thick it burns your eyes and snows ash so heavy you cant see anything, total darkness, pitch black in daylight.
Sun stroke, heat exhaustion, boredom, clinically insane. Cursing aloud for hours alone to only the woodland creatures. Fears, doubts, tears and elation. Physical peaks, amazing people. Two wheels, two pedals, two legs, one chain, no brain, over 2,000 miles. Sitting alone in complete doubt to only push on to the unknown.
Love hate, fire and rain. Countries, counties, provinces, states. Statues, plates, food and insomnia. Beer floats, friends and complete randomness. Allies, bike shops, bars and saloons. Sunsets pain, regret and cows. Frost mornings and 50 miles for coffee, hands so frozen you cant brake, but at least you go faster. Phone calls, internet, familiar faces and voices. King of the road with a vagabond soul. Bald tires, worn out pedals, broken cranks, wounded pride and a snapped shifters.
It starts to end, a woman’s touch and Beto’s voice, a stop sign in Antelope Wells Mexico. Purified water and stale food, hunger knocks and brilliant moments. Moon dust, mud soaked. Push, carry, cringe. No we don’t take Debit. Hot showers and nasty chamois, 1500 to go. Friends help like a strong wind on the back, I dreamed of a loud night in Prescott surrounded by great friends and wake up to bears in the dusk, alone in deep frost.
Left knee, right knee we knee. It all hurts, ankles twisted in posthole snow, I think of you all and feel warmth on my face in sheer ice. Town closed, don’t drink that water and stay away from that food, to late, I ate and drank 5 pounds of it. This road will never end or bend, don’t sleep on the reservation, I wonder if that gun was really loaded?
I’m embarrassed by the sheer amount of support and fight to keep composure, I bow gracefully allowing the adulations to mirror those that gave a piece of themselves for me to carry, not just for this trip but where ever I roam. Lithium batteries, snickers and cokes. All your socks are ruined, what happened to your hands? Asked the waitress, I don’t see anything wrong with them.
An Element is finally in the Elements and it thrived. Star light, star bright, I wonder what Taylor is doing tonight, it feels weird to be inside and in a car. Large beds and clean sheets are foreign like an easy mile, this shit is 18 percent grade hike a bike. Passport, grassroots, hostels. That’s not dirt under my finger nails, its life~just get back in your car and I won’t hurt you.
I’ll take two large pizzas, a pitcher of beer, a pitcher of water and two maker’s oh and one sprite. How many? Does it look like anybody is with me?
A Titanium taint, 20 dollar bill and jonny p walk in the door.
I showered 12oo miles ago, I’m good. Jet boil, back pack, spare chain, cassette, all things you really don’t need to bring, but I sure as hell did.
I thank you all, and I couldn’t do it enough, this by no means is my story of the great divide mountain bike race, but it’s currently marinating in a fine brine and gaining a swell, like a wine and tide it will roll to me and come of age when its ready and me as well. My mind wonders like my soul and body did down the mountains south to Mexico, funny both times I’ve ever been to Mexico is on two wheels.
None of these mountains look the same, nor will I ever be. Dirt roads, gravel roads, little did the divide now I grew up on em. Come for 24 days but stay for a life time. Is that your bike? Ask two fat Harley riders, and I’m the only dude in spandex. What? I thought this was a biker bar, listen fuckers unless you want to get your ass beat by a dude is spandex, talk shit about me out of ear shot, I’m in no mood, I haven’t eaten or drank in 78 miles and I’m feeling froggy.
Gratitude is shown on a computer screen, but felt in the tears that run down a salty, dust covered cheek, without the words or the followers this first divide would’ve been worthless. What? Your buddy couldn’t hack it? So I dropped that asshole so bad he hasn’t finished yet, you say anything more about my friend and you won’t ride you bike again.
I hate riding railroad grades, but what’s 140 miles out of 2700? True grit and friends come out of the thicket and cover me in kindness and praise I never felt before. I didn’t ride the divide, we all did.