MY HERO

Over the summer, as I biked across the country, I discovered so much. I learned about the overwhelming poverty across the country, I began to understand the principles of other religions and lifestyles, and I got to see scenery I didn't even know existed prior to starting out on the summer trek.

I met some wonderful people, and all in all - I had the best summer of my life.

But amongst those 32 people with whom I pedaled across the country, one in particular really stands out. And here's a surprise - it's not my boyfriend, who I did actually meet on the trip.

It was the 2008 Bike and Build Southern Route resident bike mechanic; let's call him Jordan.

From the very beginning, Jordan established himself as the person who knew the most about bikes. He could of course change a flat tire in less than 2 minutes, but that's not special in and of itself (hell, by mid-summer, when I had become the person who was most plagued by flat tires, I could do that too). But Jordan could do more; Jordan could do it all. When my cleat (and hence my shoe) got stuck on my pedal on Day 2 of riding, he managed to detach it, when everyone else just averted their eyes and looked at me with a worried glance.

Every night, Jordan tweaked his bike. He kept perfect care of it; he never would have allowed the drippings of lunchtime peanut butter and jelly that were coating my derailleur. His bike was always fine tuned, and his biking was most certainly better for it.

Because that's perhaps one of the most valuable lessons I learned from Jordan... If you treat your equipment well, you'll inevitably be a better biker. You and your bike will be better friends, the gears won't break as you're attempting to summit that last mountain of the day, and maybe, just maybe, you'll get fewer flats if you do a cursory check of your tires before you leave. And consequently, you'll be a faster biker, you'll enjoy biking more, and on a cross country bike trip (or a race, or a biking experience of any kind, really), you'll just be a happier person.

But Jordan was more than just a casual repairman. As the summer went on and the bike casualties increased, Jordan took care of everyone, being kind about having to stop on the road, and never once allowing his eyes to roll towards the back of his head, even though I'm sure his exasperation was reaching its limit.

And besides all that, Jordan was pretty damn cool. In his past, everyday life, Jordan was a bike messenger, so he knew how to do tricks, ranging from a track stand to riding backwards (sitting on the handlebars and pedaling towards the back wheel), and his mount and dismount prompted me to spend an entire afternoon dedicating myself to mastering his one-legged swoop (I never managed).

And damn, Jordan could dance. He was funny and was an integral part in making the 30+ of us gel into a cohesive group.

I know, I know - Jordan sounds perfect. And maybe he was. I don't really know. I don't know what he's doing now, because I don't think I've talked to him since that last day in San Francisco, after arriving at the Pacific Ocean.

But what I do know is this - despite all the things that made Jordan what he is, what stands out most in my mind is his ability to become one with his bike; his skills at making that 2-wheeled machine reach it's fully capability were insurmountable, and he taught me that (since the layperson could, in fact, do it), I should strive to be able to do the same. I should care enough, and be less lazy, and although I'm still not a bike mechanic and I still occasionally avoid cleaning tasks, some little bit of me is changed because of Jordan, and in the back of my mind, at least now I know what I should be doing.