I Tried Not To Cry. Michael Beattie
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bag containing the food. His head straightened up quickly as he reached for the bag, thanking me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person eat so fast in my life as he inhaled the burgers and drank from the water jug that he had next to him. This man was truly hungry, and as he thanked me, he hugged me and began to cry over his joy for the food. I decided to sit next to him and ask him his story. I asked him if he was truly a veteran to which he replied yes. “What happened to you?” I asked. He began his story of returning home from Vietnam to his hometown to be hired as a machinery operator in a local factory. “Worked there running that machine almost my entire life,” he stated. “I was a damn good worker,” he said. “Never late, worked anytime they needed me. The damn owners sold us down the drain,” he said. “Moved the entire plant overseas. I was left with no other job skills along with many others. I tried finding work near my home, but there was nothing for me, especially at my age, so I worked any part-time job I could grab. It wasn’t enough, and I fell behind on my mortgage. Ended up living in my car until that got towed away on me along with everything I had left. Look at me,” he cried. “I look like a bum, and no one will give me a chance. Hell, I can’t even keep myself clean anymore. I relocated to this area, as it’s at least warmer here. I don’t know how much longer I can live like this,” he cried. I told him if I still had my business I’d give him a job, and I handed him the cash that I had left on me. I thanked him for his service and told him to “try and stay strong, my brother, until help finds you.” He huged and thanked me again, as I felt terrible leaving him there like that.
This meeting really troubled me, and after that day I made it my point to try and talk to as many veterans that held up signs as I could. I started to hear similar situations from many that had experienced disasters at some point in their life that made it impossible to care for themselves or their families. Family illnesses that bankrupted them, weather disasters that put them on the street, as well as so many other stories, including just being retired poor. I soon realized that not all these people were bums, alcoholics, or drug addicts, as I previously had thought convictions of. I became so moved that my half-empty head started thinking of ways in which I could possibly help these souls. Then I thought of the promise that I had made that night as I lay in bed, “to do something good for mankind.” As I continued to hike alone hours on end, my mind kept thinking of all these people in need. Veterans, who gave so much for our country, being left on the streets. Many whom I talked with felt abandoned by the government and wanted nothing to do with any help from them ever again. I felt so lucky at this point to have lived my great life, with, yes, many bumps in the road, but nothing compared to those I was meeting. Their stories of falling through the cracks of our society were more than a middle-class individual like I have ever had to witness in eastern Connecticut.
When I finally arrived in Florida, where I stayed for much of the winter until Sue rejoined me, I rode my bike along the beach areas each day in my attempt to stay in good health. It was also an attempt to see if I could still ride a bike after all my back issues. I kept falling at first, as I tried to mount and dismount the bike, as my balance was bad, but I kept at it until I overcame those issues. Thank God for my helmet! My bike was just an inexpensive hybrid type which was kept on the rear of the camper, but it enabled me to ride to and from shower areas in the campgrounds, as well as to get supplies at the store. As I rode along each day, I kept trying to figure out a way I could make a difference in the lives of these veterans that struggle for food. I remembered a young man from my hometown area that rode his bike cross-country one way to raise money for a local soup kitchen. Ray Aramini was his name, and as I recalled, he raised a sizable amount of funds for the soup kitchen in my home work town by doing that ride. This started me thinking about possibly doing a long ride to try and raise funds for these veterans in need. But I knew it had to be much more than just a cross-country ride if I was going to garner any major attention to the cause. I needed to think of something that would seem so much more difficult to the average person that it would help me raise enough money to make a difference as I tried to raise the awareness of the problem.
In the back of my mind, I was planning a twelve-thousand-mile bike ride solo around the perimeter of the United States. After doing online research about this subject, I couldn’t find anyone who had attempted this before, not to mention anyone my age. Actually, I wasn’t even sure if I could even attempt such a feat, but it became the only thing my mind dwelled on almost constantly. I always dreamed of riding cross-country on a bike in my earlier years, but now I’m half broken, and any form of motion usually begets pain. I kept fighting the idea, but kept trying to challenge myself, even knowing the odds of my completing a journey like this wasn’t in my favor. I didn’t share this idea with anyone, especially Sue, as I knew she wouldn’t be happy. Sue sensed I was up to something, as my desire to ride every day was something new, which she didn’t quite understand, yet, I kept telling her I wanted to stay in shape. By this time, she knew that I was an unusual man who seemed to have to push himself further than many would attempt. She knew of my extreme hiking, and my stories of extreme sports adventures that I participated in throughout my life, yet, it was something she never had any urge to do, and it was hard to explain to her. She would be happy doing a one-mile walk, I wasn’t happy unless it was twenty miles. That’s just the way I’ve been most of my life.
While in Florida, we took a trip to a Gainesville bike shop which had a new touring cycle for sale at a great price. I wanted to see if that would be better on my back as the upright-type hybrid cycle I had was not working very well for me. After a demo ride, I purchased an Aurora Elite touring cycle made by Jamis. I’d been doing research on several brands of bikes and found the reviews quite good for this model, as well as the fact that it was much less costly than the other higher rated bikes. The different positions that I could use on the handlebars made a huge difference for my back as leaning forward just a bit almost eliminated any back pain. Sue really thought something was up now after I spent that kind of money on a bike! I told her it was more comfortable riding for my back. I started riding it every day, slowly increasing my distances in an attempt to build my leg muscles.
I researched the number of homeless veterans in our country and was shocked at the time that the number leaned toward 130,000, depending on whom you listened to. There was possibly also another 3 million veterans and their family members that struggled to put food on their table at the end of each month. My search found only one veteran’s food pantry that attempted to feed veterans both locally and nationally by means of food cards. This pantry was located in Utica, New York, a 501C3 nonprofit group comprised mostly of veteran volunteers. It was called Feed Our Vets. I shared my idea of riding to raise funds for the pantry with Sue and was met with much resistance. She, along with my family members, thought I had lost my mind to even attempt a ride of such great magnitude. They were probably right. Their disbelief in my ability to take on such a monumental ride seemed to fuel my fire and desire even more to complete this mission. After I explained my reasoning behind the idea, Sue started to provide me with some support. This was all I could think of for the last six months during my road trip, and after I returned home. I was, in my mind, committed to trying this crazy adventure.
My training had already started immediately after I returned home, as I rode on the hills almost daily, increasing my mileage, while I continued to study how I could pull this trip off and stay in favorable weather the whole way. My knees gave me some trouble on the hills, so I wore knee braces to help support them as I rode everywhere, including to and from the coffee shop I loved to visit each morning. My buddies thought I lost my mind when I told them of my plans. I didn’t let it bother me as I was focused on this mission. Approaching sixty-seven, I knew that it was not going to be a walk in the park, yet, I made a promise, and there was only one way to find out the result. I first had to finish the renovations on my home so that I could sell my house in order to ensure I had enough money to fund the trip. I also did not want to have any house expenses to worry about while I was gone on this six-month journey.
Quickly I installed a new rear stone patio and completed the landscaping myself. I built a firepit out of the bricks I had left over from my renovations, as this seemed to be a popular item. The house was a showpiece after having been completely rebuilt, with all new appliances, baths, and kitchen. I had a deposit in three weeks! I was heartbroken to let my home go after all the work I had put into making it so special. But a promise is a promise. So now between my Social Security monthly check and the funds left over from the sale