200a
July 14th 03, 10:02 PM
What happened to Jim Mullener? We never hear from/about him any more.
"Cycle America/Nat. Bicycle Greenway" > wrote in message
...
> Finally heard from Rocky Brown a little while ago. He is riding from
> Boise to Portland. And when it rains it pours -- I got 5 messages from
> him!! Seems he had the wrong address for me plugged into his Pocket
> Mailer and when he sent mail it kept bouncing back to him every time he
> picked up his new messages. I will share his first one with you before
> I then turn you on to Jim Redd's incredible writing. Jim didn't make
> Boise in time as his break up with the Pocket Mail Lady left him too
> despondent to continue. Feeling betrayed he picked up a new girlfriend
> and they headed back to Salt Lake City together. So we begin with Rocky
> followed by the story of Jim's heartbreak:
>
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Subject: Rocky's Boise return (Rocky rode to Boise from Salt Lake City
> last year)
>
> It is about 1 AM mountain time. Got the bike together good enough to
> ride but will need to visit a bike shop in the morning.
>
> A heavy set Iranian taxi driver helped me straighten the forks well
> enough to get the wheel on and I missadjusted the brakes so at least I
> have some. In Portland where I had switched planes, I watched them put
> it in the plane and was prepared then for the worse. The rear wheel
> release was showing through the box. I got the little inspection note
> and they did not repack things nearly as good as I did... sign of the
> times.
>
> I put it together outside in the 80 degree heat and compacted the box
> and packing material so that it fit into a large trash can.
>
> Large bathrooms here at the airport with AC so I just wheeled the
> rebuilt bike in with me as I cleaned up.
>
> The Taxi driver and a couple of others came in and asked where I was
> from and he gave me directions to a "Jewish owned bike shop" close to
> the Greenway.
>
> Getting tired been a long day.
>
> RockB
>
> ------------------------------
> Local access to PocketMail mobile
> e-mail now available in Europe, North
> America & Australia http://www.pocketmail.com
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
>
> Salt Lake City
> July 12, 2003
>
> Pocketmail Lady Cuts Me Off!
>
> Dear Notepad,
>
> Evanston, Wyoming is a Union Pacific rail town turned mining town and
> now has reinvented itself as a tourist town. Itís got a three-block
> Front Street along the tracks and a Main Street with shops and
> galleries, but what caught my eye, on that hot afternoon after an
> upwind ride across the high plains was the Bear River Brew Pub which
> drew me in like a frog to a bog.
>
> A couple of Oatmeal Stouts got me properly oriented to the town and all
> seemed fine until I tried to hook up with you, Pocketmail Lady, and
> discovered you had cut me off with no explanation. Was it something I
> said? Was it because I had ignored you the last few days? My excuse is
> that I was reflecting on lakes up in the Uintas Mountains and there are
> no payphones in the National Forests and no Sprint coverage for my cell
> phone either. So there, that's my excuse.
>
> Unfazed, I made alternate arrangements: Surprise! A notepad and pencil
> from Wal*Mart, so I no longer need you, P.L. No more changing your
> batteries! No more searching for payphones in out-of-the-way places!
> How sensible. Why hadn't I thought of it before? I relegated you to the
> bottom of my right pannier along with my cell phone charger, pedal
> wrench and that odd-sized crescent wrench.
>
> But just as I was reveling in my new-found Pocketmail Liberation,
> becoming familiar with my low-tech device at a table in a coffee
> shop/gallery/boutique on Main Street, I noticed a man at the next table
> checking his email on his 17-inch laptop. Get this, P.L.: he was
> catching broadband from the wind up in the high plains of Wyoming with
> an antenna card the size of a matchbox! I don't want to belabor this,
> P.L., but be forewarned. Despite your digitized human-like charm, you
> are flirting with obsolescence. (But will that ever be cost effective?
> ed)
>
> Jim Redd
> Bike-Writer-at-Large
>
> Salt Lake City
> July 12, 2003
>
> Jim Goes Postal Over Thirst!
>
> Dear Notepad,
>
> Leaving the Evanston, I took a turn down an alley of the Queen City,
> behind the Jubilee Market, and passed a group of Rainbow Gatherers
> turned Dumpster Foragers gathering rotten veggies. At the door, I
> encountered another one with a Huffy hauling a trailer with a large dog
> and flying a blue planet earth flag the size of a mainsail. Dreaded and
> beaded, he asked me to watch his rig while he went inside to score some
> day-old bread. When he returned, he told me he was working on a
> government grant to study ethnomusicology in the Himalayas. I wished
> him well and was on my way toward Woodruff, where I planned to re-water
> myself before the 3,000 ft climb to Monte Cristo Campground 20 miles
> west in the Wasatch Range.
>
> Sucking air from my Camelback, imagine my surprise when I saw the faded
> sign creaking in the hot wind and boarded up windows of the only store
> in Woodruff. And beyond lay only Wilderness, foreboding in its lack of
> services. I circled the crossroads in despair. The only other thing
> blowing in the wind was an American flag, one of many I had seen on the
> Patriotic weekend just passed.
>
> But wait! Below the flag, through the sweat pooling in my eyes I could
> make out the large numerals 84087. It was the most welcome zip code I
> had ever seen. Inside was a counter and behind the counter sat the lone
> keeper of 84087 and behind her was a water fountain! I engaged her in
> small talk first, asking her jokingly, "Any mail for me?" And while she
> was laughing I gestured toward the water fountain holding up my empty
> water bottle. This was the decisive moment. I could only imagine what
> the U.S. Postal Service Rulebook might have to say about letting
> private citizens loose in the mailroom.
>
> Never underestimate the power of humor, notepad, especially when you
> are dead serious. Bottles and camelback filled to overflowing with U.S.
> Government water, on my way out of town I saluted the flag for the
> first time since my Navy days.
>
> Jim Redd
> Bike-Writer-at-Large
>
>
>
> MARTIN KRIEG: "Awake Again" Author c/o BikeRoute.com
> 79 & 86 TransAms, nonprofit Nat. Bicycle Greenway CEO
> Ever wanted anything so bad U were willing to die for it?
> Really die? By moving thru clinical death and reversing
> paralysis, *I saw God* when I answered that question.
"Cycle America/Nat. Bicycle Greenway" > wrote in message
...
> Finally heard from Rocky Brown a little while ago. He is riding from
> Boise to Portland. And when it rains it pours -- I got 5 messages from
> him!! Seems he had the wrong address for me plugged into his Pocket
> Mailer and when he sent mail it kept bouncing back to him every time he
> picked up his new messages. I will share his first one with you before
> I then turn you on to Jim Redd's incredible writing. Jim didn't make
> Boise in time as his break up with the Pocket Mail Lady left him too
> despondent to continue. Feeling betrayed he picked up a new girlfriend
> and they headed back to Salt Lake City together. So we begin with Rocky
> followed by the story of Jim's heartbreak:
>
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Subject: Rocky's Boise return (Rocky rode to Boise from Salt Lake City
> last year)
>
> It is about 1 AM mountain time. Got the bike together good enough to
> ride but will need to visit a bike shop in the morning.
>
> A heavy set Iranian taxi driver helped me straighten the forks well
> enough to get the wheel on and I missadjusted the brakes so at least I
> have some. In Portland where I had switched planes, I watched them put
> it in the plane and was prepared then for the worse. The rear wheel
> release was showing through the box. I got the little inspection note
> and they did not repack things nearly as good as I did... sign of the
> times.
>
> I put it together outside in the 80 degree heat and compacted the box
> and packing material so that it fit into a large trash can.
>
> Large bathrooms here at the airport with AC so I just wheeled the
> rebuilt bike in with me as I cleaned up.
>
> The Taxi driver and a couple of others came in and asked where I was
> from and he gave me directions to a "Jewish owned bike shop" close to
> the Greenway.
>
> Getting tired been a long day.
>
> RockB
>
> ------------------------------
> Local access to PocketMail mobile
> e-mail now available in Europe, North
> America & Australia http://www.pocketmail.com
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
>
> Salt Lake City
> July 12, 2003
>
> Pocketmail Lady Cuts Me Off!
>
> Dear Notepad,
>
> Evanston, Wyoming is a Union Pacific rail town turned mining town and
> now has reinvented itself as a tourist town. Itís got a three-block
> Front Street along the tracks and a Main Street with shops and
> galleries, but what caught my eye, on that hot afternoon after an
> upwind ride across the high plains was the Bear River Brew Pub which
> drew me in like a frog to a bog.
>
> A couple of Oatmeal Stouts got me properly oriented to the town and all
> seemed fine until I tried to hook up with you, Pocketmail Lady, and
> discovered you had cut me off with no explanation. Was it something I
> said? Was it because I had ignored you the last few days? My excuse is
> that I was reflecting on lakes up in the Uintas Mountains and there are
> no payphones in the National Forests and no Sprint coverage for my cell
> phone either. So there, that's my excuse.
>
> Unfazed, I made alternate arrangements: Surprise! A notepad and pencil
> from Wal*Mart, so I no longer need you, P.L. No more changing your
> batteries! No more searching for payphones in out-of-the-way places!
> How sensible. Why hadn't I thought of it before? I relegated you to the
> bottom of my right pannier along with my cell phone charger, pedal
> wrench and that odd-sized crescent wrench.
>
> But just as I was reveling in my new-found Pocketmail Liberation,
> becoming familiar with my low-tech device at a table in a coffee
> shop/gallery/boutique on Main Street, I noticed a man at the next table
> checking his email on his 17-inch laptop. Get this, P.L.: he was
> catching broadband from the wind up in the high plains of Wyoming with
> an antenna card the size of a matchbox! I don't want to belabor this,
> P.L., but be forewarned. Despite your digitized human-like charm, you
> are flirting with obsolescence. (But will that ever be cost effective?
> ed)
>
> Jim Redd
> Bike-Writer-at-Large
>
> Salt Lake City
> July 12, 2003
>
> Jim Goes Postal Over Thirst!
>
> Dear Notepad,
>
> Leaving the Evanston, I took a turn down an alley of the Queen City,
> behind the Jubilee Market, and passed a group of Rainbow Gatherers
> turned Dumpster Foragers gathering rotten veggies. At the door, I
> encountered another one with a Huffy hauling a trailer with a large dog
> and flying a blue planet earth flag the size of a mainsail. Dreaded and
> beaded, he asked me to watch his rig while he went inside to score some
> day-old bread. When he returned, he told me he was working on a
> government grant to study ethnomusicology in the Himalayas. I wished
> him well and was on my way toward Woodruff, where I planned to re-water
> myself before the 3,000 ft climb to Monte Cristo Campground 20 miles
> west in the Wasatch Range.
>
> Sucking air from my Camelback, imagine my surprise when I saw the faded
> sign creaking in the hot wind and boarded up windows of the only store
> in Woodruff. And beyond lay only Wilderness, foreboding in its lack of
> services. I circled the crossroads in despair. The only other thing
> blowing in the wind was an American flag, one of many I had seen on the
> Patriotic weekend just passed.
>
> But wait! Below the flag, through the sweat pooling in my eyes I could
> make out the large numerals 84087. It was the most welcome zip code I
> had ever seen. Inside was a counter and behind the counter sat the lone
> keeper of 84087 and behind her was a water fountain! I engaged her in
> small talk first, asking her jokingly, "Any mail for me?" And while she
> was laughing I gestured toward the water fountain holding up my empty
> water bottle. This was the decisive moment. I could only imagine what
> the U.S. Postal Service Rulebook might have to say about letting
> private citizens loose in the mailroom.
>
> Never underestimate the power of humor, notepad, especially when you
> are dead serious. Bottles and camelback filled to overflowing with U.S.
> Government water, on my way out of town I saluted the flag for the
> first time since my Navy days.
>
> Jim Redd
> Bike-Writer-at-Large
>
>
>
> MARTIN KRIEG: "Awake Again" Author c/o BikeRoute.com
> 79 & 86 TransAms, nonprofit Nat. Bicycle Greenway CEO
> Ever wanted anything so bad U were willing to die for it?
> Really die? By moving thru clinical death and reversing
> paralysis, *I saw God* when I answered that question.