The Epic of Eddy

I spent a lot of time thinking about what the best way to post the following story would be.

I’ve been a “storyteller” for years, but it wasn’t until fairly recently that I began to write my stories down. I’ve now written over 50 pages worth of stories for my blog alone. The one that follows is the “lifestory” I wrote first. My blog EddyZWanderings was started at the end of 2005, but this story was committed to paper long before that, in August of 2001.

The reason I’ve been debating the way to post it is that it is an incomplete piece.
I suppose it could pass for poetry, but when anyone asks me about it, I tell them that all I employ is what I call “dumb rhyme”—I’ve made the story rhyme. There is no real meter, no genuine rhyme scheme other than a basic couplet, no stanzas, no repetition. The working title that I first saved it under was “Epic Poem,” and I’d like to believe that in some fashion it qualifies as an epic.

I wrote the “coming-of-age” story in the margins of notebook paper during my freshman year of college. I’d write it a couplet at a time, frequently switching from notebook to notebook as I switched from subject to subject, class to class. Halfway through the first semester I collected all of the fragments, put them in order, and that collection is what I have here, completely unedited except for spelling.

In the summer of 2000, I was 17 years old. I was heading into my senior year of high school. I’d been riding my bike for years and it was where I felt most at home. I smelled, ate, slept, dreamed, and lived bicycling. I raced for Arizona Velo at the time and had chalked up a good handful of wins and podiums.

A few summers before, when I was 14, my mom and I went on a 9 day bike trip. We’d ridden from Phoenix, Arizona to Alamosa, Colorado in a serious adventure, and I was dying to do something similar once more.

Somehow my amazing and trusting parents gave me permission to pursue doing another extended bike ride. I started talking to my best friend Nishan. I had started him riding about a year earlier and he had progressed into a real natural. He raced with me occasionally and he was good.

Nishan and I ultimately planned a 9-day bike trip that coincided with the end of our church’s summer camp during the summer of 2001, right before I entered college. We used the camp’s location in the minuscule historic mining town of Marble, Colorado as the starting point of an 800 mile ride home to Phoenix.

(Just outside the camp, near Marble, CO.)

Our bikes and gear were added to the truck that followed the church bus carrying the campers’ luggage. When they reboarded the bus to return home, we stayed behind—then started riding.

It was frightening to be so vulnerable. I don’t know about Nishan (who at the time alternately went by Nick), but I know that I had never faced responsibility like I did that evening when the bus pulled away. We were fully on our own and it was up to us to make sure that we made it home.

When the church group left the camp that Friday night, the camp staff also left. They let us stay in one of the cabins overnight, telling us to lock the door behind us when we left. At 8,600 feet above sea level we had an unadulterated view of the stars through the cold night air. Just like on the final night of the trip when we sat out and looked at the stars, Nishan and I both probably realized that we were at a point of no return in our lives. We had talked about our trip, we had dreamed about our trip, we had fretted over every detail—but now the time for that had all passed and there was nothing left for us to do except start putting into motion the plan we had prepared. The unknowns would be answered tomorrow morning. We didn’t stay up very late, but I know neither of us slept well. All of the what-ifs flooded my mind. In the morning we jolted our way down several miles of steep dirt road to Marble and started our ride in earnest.

(Inside the cabin at the camp just before we started.)

We rode from Marble to Delta the first day, Delta to a freezing cold “campground” on the south side of Red Mountain Pass the second day, the “campground” to Durango on the third, over to Cortez on the fourth, and entered into New Mexico on the fifth.

My freshman year of college, sitting bored in some class (more than likely Accounting 101, History of Civilization, or English) and seeking an escape I began to write starting with that fifth day.

(Our sad, cold campsite at 10,000 feet just south of Red Mtn. Pass)

The fifth day, we were riding from Cortez, Colorado to an honest-to-goodness nuns’ convent in the middle of the Navajo Indian Reservation. When we arrived for the night in the exhausted and forsaken village of Naschitti, New Mexico, the convent was deserted. Facing the dangerous prospect of trying to find other suitable sleeping quarters for the night, we pressed on to Gallup, which was not much of an alternative. From there we rode on the sixth day to Sanders, crossing into Arizona, then to Snowflake, then to Payson, and finally on the ninth day home to Phoenix.

As with most poems, not every detail is expounded.

A brief synopsis of how we found the strangers we stayed with is important I think. A few months before the trip we laid out what we thought was a reasonable itinerary. Next we would Google the churches in each specific town. I’d call a church and say, “Good morning, my name is Eddy Zakes. My friend Nishan Campbell and I are riding our bikes part way across the U.S. this summer and will be in your town on Monday night, July 17. We were wondering if we could spend the night in your church or with a member of your church.”

(Nishan heading up a valley south of Montrose)

Most of the towns we were staying in were fairly small so this worked fantastically well. We’d start with the denominations we were closest to and work our way down the list. Hence why eventually we were planning to stay at the convent and why later in the trip we stayed with a Mormon family.

It is by far the cheapest way to travel. You can get by on this recipe for about $10 a day. You arrive at your host family’s house sometime around 4:30, enjoy dinner with them, spend the evening getting to know them, going to bed, waking up, eating breakfast with the family, and then riding off at 8:00ish. The only thing that I was responsible for was lunch and any incidentals.

The exposure to the real America was invaluable. I stayed with World War II vets, American Indians, nuns, a lumberjack, a professional bow hunter, farmers, missionaries, the postmaster of a small town, video store owners, and regular everyday Joes. At the age of 14 and then again at 18, I was exposed to what makes America great—work ethic, capitalism, democracy, freedom of religion, and hospitality.

(The climb up Red Mtn. Pass)

No matter the creed, race, or sex, all Americans share the same triumphs and difficulties. Everyone struggles to maintain a decent living, and rejoices when things go well. What makes America great is this unity of purpose and of destination. People rejoiced in the triumph of our trip, rallied behind us, and were inspired by us.

And finally the poem itself...



Nick crashed in the sand,
His bike became unmanned
His front wheel ran amuck
His feet in the pedals were stuck.
So down he fell.
He let out a yell.
Eddy thought it was funny -
He laughed until his tears were runny.

We got to the mission
We knocked to ask permission;
And…no one was home,
The two boys were very alone.
On the reservation,
They would stay with hesitation.
They were scared,
They weren’t prepared.
We knew where we had to be -
To Gallup we must flee.
We ate some burritos,
Eddy ate a few cheetos.
Then we had to go
We two-in-a-row.

(Nishan on the devil's highway between Cortez and Gallup)

It was going to get dark,
This would be no ride in the park.
As night fell it began to rain
Both boys were beginning to pain.
Nick fell again, like déjà vu
Across an intersection he really flew.
The first sop was Ramada Inn
They were so filthy like a coal bin.
The manager was like, “Hey Sonny,
You ain’t look like ya got any money.”
We said “Thanks, but no thanks
Do we look like we own any banks?”
So again we went out into the storm.
We really, really wanted to get warm.
We found a hotel run by an Indian dude.
He wasn’t like the last man, so very rude,
He said, “I gi’ yoo room fo’ se’teen buck.”
Man, oh man, we were really in luck.
We wheeled our bikes in,
The room seemed made out of tin.
Our day was done.
It hadn’t all been fun.
We’d ridden 136 miles,
But now all we had were smiles.
We turned up the heat
We were really beat
The room was junk,
But it had spunk.
We were all muddy,
And Nick was even bloody.
I jumped in the shower
It had too much power.
It was a pipe in the wall,
And my skin it did maul.
Before I had dried my toes,
Nishan had called Domino’s,
“Bring me a large,
I think I could eat a barge.
Have your driver be quick…
Oh, its raining, oh well, we don’t give a lick.”
The driver made the quick trip,
He wanted his tip.
We scarffed down the food
Our dinner was crude.
We tried out the 1975 TV,
So ancient, its case was made from a tree
Truly wondering what channels there’d be.
There was supposed to be 185 options on the table
All there truly was was real basic cable.
SportsCenter was running for the fifteenth time.
Man, I’m really running out of things to rhyme.

Into Arizona—that hot, hot state
The pace we held was still first rate.
Forty miles from Gallup we’d ride that day
So we didn’t have to wake up with the Sun’s first ray.
We slept in long,
We woke up and watched King Kong.
We turned in the key,
To that man who drank tea,
Then went to McDonald’s to get a meal.
We convinced a customer that our trip was real.
Wherever we went people thought we were tough,
Girls all over said we were so buff.
“Good luch” people told us, we were living their dream,
They wished they were us it really did seem.
“A dream long ago,” they’d say in a trance,
They’d do it themselves, “If I had the chance.”
Then off we pedaled, out into the wet—
Again we were chased by somebody’s pet.
The fastest dog I ever did see
Of legendary status that pooch shall be.
Through the fence came the deranged dog,
We quickly did shift to our smallest cog.
We pedaled like mad,
Nishan he could have had -
Nick swerved toward me, I was out in the lane
Nearly hit by a semi—like a freight train.
The dog couldn’t hold the pace
He dropped off without a trace.
We crossed the border very soon,
Halfway there and still not noon.
We had to try to slow down, It was still to early to enter town.
To burn some time for icecream we did stop.
We got some cones and a bunch of pop.
Mountain Dew was the way to go
In my veins it surely must flow.
Without it my muscles would shrivel and die
If I rode all day my body would cry,
“I need some Dew.”
Of course this story is true.
The day heated up, it got way too hot
It seemed like we were riding in a boiling pot.
Up the off ramp then turn to the right
We entered Sanders with no people in sight.
We found the church,
We stopped with a lurch.
In the parking lot were three mean, ugly dogs,
To defend our bike (and ourselves secondly, of course) we picked up some logs.
We shouted and yelled and out came their owner,
He was the pastor and he was quite the loner.
We would sleep on the benches;
The nearby kitchen was loaded with stenches.
We cleaned ourselves up
We tried to figure out where we would sup.
This town was small,
They’d never heard of a strip mall.
We ate at the Mobil
The only business in town that was global
In the store was an Express Taco Bell
Hopefully tomorrow we wouldn’t really smell.
We got ten burritos
Much better than the 20 frozen taquitos.
We went back and ate our food then played a guitar—
Nick punking out like an old rock star
We went and talked to the Navajo man
All his opinions would fit in a tuna can.
We left him alone then went to bed—
Those wooden pews were tough on my head.


I woke up and – oh my back –
All my bones were way out of whack.
Fifteen minutes to load up our gear
Not enough time to look in the mirror (maybe out of fear).
Into the chilly, crisp morning we rode
There was no breakfast at last night’s humble abode.
Back to the Mobil station
Oh what a joy, what an elation,
We bought some pop tarts then ate them in the sun
When four drunks came up we got ready to run.
Finally off the reservation we forsook
When we rode the straight-arrow road down to Holbrook.
With only one turn, the route was an “L”
Of the scenery, there’s not much to tell
45 miles one way, then 45 the next
All that was noteworthy was a 20-foot T-rex.
According to folk, this was a home for old dinosaur
Their fossils are found on the desert floor.

(Nishan cruisin' through the desert)

In Holbrook at Denny’s again we ate
We both got water to save on the rate.
We left to begin our second straight leg
30 miles up hill would make our legs beg.
We had some film we needed to “waste”
We tried to take pictures with a touch of taste.

(Bleak, arid landscape baking under 110 degree heat)

Eddy took them while riding next to Nishan
The pictures clearly show both of their brawn.
Nick tried to take on of Eddy while riding,
But out of the viewfinder Eddy kept sliding.
It was so hot Eddy’s skin did bubble,
Both the boys could sense this was trouble.
We stayed in Snowflake, a Mormon habitat
We got to the church and there we sat.
We waited for a lady who never came—
This was just like the nun’s house, it was just the same.
We soon found out at the church that night
If we had to stay there, we would be all right.
They were throwing a party for Mormons still single
Half the night with them we could mingle.
Finally Nick decided that we were at the wrong place,
However I’ve promised not to rub it in his face.
Down two blocks, then take a sharp left,
Their move to the seminary was really deft.
A Mormon professor told the of the “Great Church” he loved
Mormon propaganda on the boys was shoved.
A really nice lady soon came in a truck,
She told them they with her family were stuck.
Quickly that family they did meet
Four boys and girl—all super neat.
Quickly we had called our parents on their phones
Nearly as quickly we realized the daughter was loaded with hormones
She was very pretty she didn’t make us gag
In fact, she invited us to play capture the flag.
Navajo tacos were cooked for dinner
The food was terrific, really a winner.
Some errands we did run
That was way too fun.
“For dessert, get some ice cream,” the mom did say.
At the store Matt decided to call it Cherise’s birthday
Up to the intercom he did walk
On it to the customers he did talk.
“Cherise on aisle four just turned eight,
If we could have a moment of silence that would be great…
All right, that was perfect and thanks for shopping at Reggie’s
Before you leave be sure to check out our super fresh veggies.”
Next to the movie store that the family did own
It was an old shop, it was made out of stone.
“Pick any show,
And then we’ll go.”
We grabbed some candy but didn’t pay
It felt like in jail that night I should lay.
There was a sign, I did read:
“All shop lifters please take heed,
We’ll prosecute you to the fullest extent,
You’ll live in a house with bars where you won’t pay rent
(To a house with bars you will be sent.)
Next we found out their “mad” break dancing skills
When two of the brothers broke into wild windmills
Right in the middle of the parking lot
(If we were in Phoenix we would have been shot)
They had learned from a video in the movie store;
People never watched it, they thought it was a bore
Their mom was going to throw it away
The boys took it home for their VCR to play.
All the moves they soon learned
And now before us they danced and turned.
This is when the daughter asked us to go out
It would have been fun without a doubt.
“Capture the flag, so that’s what they call it now,”
The brother said, we thought that was funny, but she had a cow.
But we were tired from that 90 mile leg,
If we partied all night tomorrow we’d beg.
So most of the night we just goofed around,
From all the ice cream we probably gained 10 pounds.
On a double wide couch we slept that night,
That next morning we were quite a sight.

When we got up we ate some food—
Of their hospitality the Mormons couldn’t be sued.
We packed our junk for the second to last time,
We didn’t want the trip to end, it was so sublime.
Then out into the chill,
On our bikes we did spill.
Over hill, over dale
The wind at our tail
We flew forty miles to Dairy Queen
We bought huge blizzards for $3.17.
When we left it got really bad,
It really did make both of us mad.
As before we had had a strong wind on our back,
It had now switched to blow so hard, we had to tack.
It was 20 miles of this, doing enormous rollers—
We clenched our jaws and pedaled (it hurt my molars).
We were trying to make it to the edge of the Mogollon Rim
When we’d dropped off the plateau the wind would dim.
Two miles from the lip we stopped at a country store
Of candy bars and Mountain Dew, we consumed some more
In one more mile we saw our favorite sign
It was yellow with a truck descending a 45-degree line
One more mile and then we did drop
We got going so fast we couldn’t stop
Down to the valley onto a tiny road
With enormous semis we abode.
It was super scary
We pedaled fast so we didn’t tarry.
We were in Payson
Riding like the devil himself was chasin’.
It was so hot it vaguely like hell,
It made our bodies to reek and smell.
We were staying with a retired friend of Nick’s dad
This guy was happy to have us, more than just a tad.
He set up signs so we couldn’t find the house
When we got there, with water, us he did douse.
He and his wife lived on the top of a super steep hill,
If we made it to the top, us it would probably kill.
Eddy pedaled it all, Nick went so slow it looked like he might fall
They pulled into the driveway
He brought us drinks on a serving tray.
They took nice, slow, cool showers
Next came food which was set on the table in towers.
The man asked, “You boys want to go to a concert?”
They said yes, this guy’s feelings they weren’t going to hurt.
There was no mosh pit
On the grass they calmly did sit.
It was all Western songs like “The Streets of Laredo.”
It was so boring they started praying for a tornado.
When they got back they sat on the porch and looked at the stars.
Quiet and reflective as they ate ice cream with chocolate bars.
This was their last night of being free,
This trip was as great as it could be—
Never again would life be the same,
It would get more difficult, this was so tame.
This was a dream they didn’t want to end,
But it was inevitable, tomorrow they’d round that final bend.
Then they’d be home,
Probably never so freely to roam—
To live this life on the road
When they knew no permanent abode.
They went slowly, introspectively to their beds
Myriads of thought were in both of their heads.

They woke up early so they could beat
That which they hated, that loathsome heat.
The retired couple got up also to make bacon and eggs
So those “poor boys would have energy in their legs.”
Food and water was their biggest concern—
In the desert they’d surely burn
If something went wrong
For these roads were desolate, this day would be long.
Eddy took six water bottles and Nick took four
In 100 miles, in over 100°, they’d probably need more.
Fruit, candy, sandwiches into their pockets they did stuff
As I’ve mentioned 10 times, this day would be rough.
For this last day they set out at 5:45
Again down a mountain they did dive.
That first 15 miles was a lot of fun
Unfortunately for the boys of downhills there wasn’t a ton.
In 3 hours the sun was out with lots of power
They wished there was shade under which to cower.

(From cool Payson down to the desert floor)

By 11:00 they had only 40 miles to go
They stopped at the first store where water did flow
Which was that gas station in Fountain Hills
In which, of Mountain Dew they did drink their fills.
Those first 60 miles had taken their toll
But they were so close to home so away they did roll.
Into that nasty traffic grind
In their ears the beastly cars whined.
The first major town in nine days
The boys detested it in so many ways.
Quickly the mile countdown was started
Rapidly through 25, 24, 23 miles they darted.
With about 10 to go they again called the house
So when we arrived, us with water they would douse.
5, 4, 3 away they did slip
And now their hearts were beginning to skip.
They knew they would make it, they would be done.
2 to go, then 1, they were rejoicing having loads of fun.
Then they got serious, they slowed, for one last talk
Each praised the other, congratulated, proclaimed the other “the rock.”
They had stuck it out
They would finish the route.
Two blocks to go they were talking still
The end of this journey like a hard-swallowed pill
Those last few words I cannot share
To neither boy that would be fair.

(Almost home)

A shout went up from Nick’s little sister,
She was cheering us homeward, we should have kissed her.
One slow right turn and into the family crowd.
We were done, we all were proud.
So ends this saga; this journey of two
Who in nine days from boys to men grew.

(Legs browned up like hamburger from days out in the sun)

Epilogue:
Eddy and Nick at Bob Jones School
Still think back on this trip and drool.
Now more than ever they wish to be free.
Alas, not while they’re there will that ever be.
Often together they dream of going all the way—
Of riding together across the whole country someday.
Whether it’ll happen there’s no guarantee
You’ll just have to wait, pray, hope, and see.


—Eddy Zakes

eazakes@juno.com