The Rolling School Bag
After viewing similar scenery and biking without thought on a straightforward path, I decided I wanted to mix things up and stay on a farm I found on Warmshowers. I left the easy, careless route to experience something new. The twisting paths turned into long straight roads along rolling hills. The sun now had complete access to my bare neck as the trees started to fade into the background. As I began to grow thirsty, roads previously packed with local shops became barren with only the occasional farm and cattle headlock buildings.
The sun began to lower into my field of view as I arrived at what was supposed to be Mike and Jenn’s farm. I maneuvered around a minivan in the driveway and leaned my heavy bike along their muted blue house and knocked on their permanently unlocked front door. After a few moments with no response, I decided to venture behind the house to see if anyone was there. Before I made it to the back, the smell of fire and smoke accompanied by sounds of loud crackling caught my attention. I rushed to the sound and smell and saw a huge billowing fire more than twice my height. The heat reached me from dozens of feet away. Awfully close to the fire stood a man more than a head shorter than me wearing a baggy, worn-out tee with a charred baseball cap in hand. His bright grin outshined his Shenandoah white beard below, giving him an almost Amish look if he wore different garb.
“You must be Shalom!” he greeted me. “I seemed to have gotten a little too close to the fire,” he said, gesturing at his burnt cap. “I was just burning an area of the garden to make room for another project.” I introduced myself to Mike, an older man, who, from the brief moments I’ve known him, lived many lifetimes and took on each one with enthusiasm and a simple smile on his face.
“You can leave your bike right there against the house, no one will take it. The house hasn’t been locked since I arrived here six years ago. You must be exhausted, let me show you where you’ll be sleeping.” This was a relief to hear because my head had been pounding from dehydration and sun exposure. Mike directed me into his house. We passed rooms and narrow hallways made even narrower by the books, toys, and other items from their past they have yet to part with. We squeezed to one end of his home, and he took me to the guest room, a room that clearly belonged to a child years ago.
Mike left me to get my things in order and to shower. My head was thumping offbeat to my heart as I slowly collapsed my way to the carpeted floor. I figure I’d rather lay down on the floor in my sweat and dirty synthetic bike clothing than on my made bed for the night. Doubts and questions about the purpose of my trip came to my mind as I dozed off for a much-needed nap.
After a bit, I finally came to, showered, and went to eat dinner. Mike introduced me to Jenn, his wife. She greeted me with a smile just as warm as her husband’s. They fed me homemade chicken salad and an assortment of veggies from their garden and other local farmers. We took turns sharing about our lives and how we each ended up at this farm in western New York. Mike had been around the world traveling and volunteering. He took adventure seriously and only in the past few years since he got married to Jenn did grand adventure take a backseat to their farm. His adventurous life of going on destination-less bike tours and sleeping in graveyards switched to a more local and routine life. They were happy. Mike made sure to flatter and flirt with Jenn around every five minutes in such an endearing and cute way, it warmed my heart.
Me, Mike and Jenn on their farm
As dinner was dying down and the conversation had a few lulls, Jenn said they were planning on seeing the sunset at Lake Ontario, if I was interested. Being on an adventure, I naturally said yes. I had not thought about how far away a lake like that would be. Since only meeting them a few hours before, I found myself in a recent stranger’s car driving an hour away from all of my belongings. Only halfway through the trip did that thought occur to me, but Jenn and Mike gave off such a warm and kind energy, I dismissed the concern immediately.
The sunset on Lake Ontario was a sight to behold. The gentle hypnotic ripples endlessly intersecting with each other reflected off the fiery red horizon. The sun looked like a cut-in-half jawbreaker dripping off the face of the earth. As the sun dropped, the dark red consumed the rest of the soft blue sky, before transforming into a midnight blue. We mostly sat in silence, in awe of the experience of a daily event seen in such a glorious manner.
We returned to their home and helped Jenn bring potted flowers inside. While Jenn brought the first round in, Mike and I both noticed a strange noise. We turned our heads to the sound of rutted, rickety wheels gradually approaching from the dark abyss that consumed the road ahead. My heart stopped in fear until the sound’s source emerged from the shadows. A young girl dragging her rollie backpack appeared out of the darkness. Her face was upset but not scared, anxious but confident. The backpack owner was Brook, a girl from a few towns over who had run away from home. The 10-year-old girl hitchhiked a few times before changing her mind and decided to start walking home. God knows if she was even headed in the right direction. Mike posed a gentle “how are you doing?” with no judgment or concern in his voice. “Would you like a ride home?” he offered before giving her a chance to answer his rhetorical question. Brook agreed without hesitation. She clearly learned to be trusting of strangers. Mike directed Brook to his old minivan and told her to get in while he told Jenn. Jenn shortly came outside to give her the ride, because Mike thought she would be more comfortable with a female stranger than a male.
The natural and pure kindness from Mike and Jenn was exceptional but also something I would see throughout my trip. It solidified a spark of hope and appreciation for strangers and humanity that I had been hoping to see. Before leaving for my trip, many friends would tell me their fears of strangers I might encounter on the way, especially the random people from the internet I planned on staying with. While I understood where their fear was coming from, I felt it was unwarranted. At this point, Mike and Jenn showed me the extreme kindheartedness and hospitality we as a species are capable of.
As we walked into the house, Mike demanded a friendly “before you go to bed, I am going to torture you a bit.” As exhausted as I was, I grew excited for what he had in store for me. He sat me on the couch and brought a collection of photo albums. “This one is from our wedding, and this one my daughter made for me,” Mike pointed to two of the books. “Let’s start with the wedding.” Mike was proud of his family and even more proud to be so lucky as to be married to Jenn. I went to bed that night content knowing that adventures do not have to end once you have a family.