Pilgrim Wheels Quotes

“A crystal clear Colorado sky opens above us, a blue so deep it makes you dizzy. The occasional bright white wispy cloud dances across the firmament, punctuating the deep blue vault of heaven stretching over this paradise.”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“We all wrap ourselves in the mythology we want other people to see us in.”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“Ahhhh. The comfort of a familiar routine out in the desert of unfamiliar exploration. Dark chocolate for the soul.”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“I’ve met a couple real cowboys in my life, and I’ve seen an awful lot of fellas who like to dress the part without any real need. Drugstore cowboys we used to call them. The real ones tend to be a lot less flash and sparkle, and tend to carry themselves with a lot more humility. I suppose the real work that cowboyin’ involves helps a fella grow accustomed to the taste of humble pie.”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“A tailwind, on the other hand, is one of the most beautiful experiences you can have on a bike. There’s no wind in my ears, so I hear everything around me. The chain purrs sweetly as it pulls the gears under the coaxing of my legs. The soft hiss of my tires on the smooth hard pavement, the sound of little critters scurrying in the desert around me as I pass. Smells aren’t as big a deal out here in the dry desert, but even the smells are more accessible in a tailwind, since I’m moving through air at a slower relative speed, and the smells linger around my face long enough to register and enjoy them.
Relative progress, speed, sights, smells, sounds. It all goes together to create a gestalt for the ride that’s pure sweetness, and I never want it to end.
Hozho.”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“There’s not much here that tempts me though. I look for folks who appear to be having fun, but can’t find any. Row after row of sad faces hooked up to slot machines like arms connected to IV's, drugs pumping into their minds. Table after table of drained souls looking to leave scraps of happiness and dignity on the green felt of the blackjack table.”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“I feel like a racehorse crashing out of the gates, bent on gulping every moment the world has in front of me right now.
Life is good.”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“I’ve put down half a pitcher of water by the time she comes to take my order. She fills another pitcher and sets it in front of me, standing with her pen in her hand, distracted, waiting for me to order. It’s early afternoon and well north of 100 degrees. Perusing the menu, I comment on the heat. “Man, it’s hot out there.”

Setting her order pad down on the counter, crossing her arms, tapping the back of her pen against her lower lip, she looks out the window at my bike leaning there. Her eyes drift to mine with that look women can give men. You know the look, the one that says, “I’m wondering if you’re trying to act dumb, or if you really might be that dumb.” Not necessarily mean, just curious.

I smile sheepishly beneath the pressure of the question behind her look. Every man reading these words knows exactly what I’m talking about here. You get the look, so you know you’ve said or done something really stupid, but you don’t have a clue what it is you’ve done or said that is so outrageously idiotic. Which just makes it worse.

She sees all this wash across my face, and a small smile plays at the corners of her face. Still tapping the pen against her lower lip, she brings her elbows down to rest on the bar, leaning in a little closer to me, as if letting me in on her secret. “Honey, it’s June. It’s the hottest month in the Sonoran Desert.” Pausing, she looks again at my bicycle leaning against her window.

“You’re riding a bicycle across the black asphalt in the hottest desert in the hottest month.”
She pauses there, looking into my eyes, raising one eyebrow, letting me know a question is coming. “What, exactly, did you expect?”

Hmmm. Good point. I might have heard those words whispered to me by the desert itself earlier today.

“Right,” I say, closing the menu and handing it to her, keeping my eyes on hers. “I’ll take the burger.” We smile at each other as she takes the menu.”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“Many years ago, as a young idealist just out of college and pretty sure I knew most of the important stuff, I met an old guy down in southern Arizona who helped me along toward understanding just how little I really knew.”
― Neil M. Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“True merit, like a river, the deeper it is, the less noise it makes. Edward Frederick Halifax”
― Neil M. Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“The real things haven’t changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong. Laura”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America

“Inside of me there are two dogs. One of the dogs is mean and evil. The other dog is good. The mean dog fights the good dog all the time. Which dog wins? The one I feed the most. Comanche elder speaking of the inner struggle of good and evil”
― Neil Hanson, Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America