Ride Journal: Day Four July 22, 2001 Today's ride: Cumberland RI to Boston MA, approx. 51 miles I've had so much fun hanging out with David, Patty and Joe at camp all these nights, I've decided there's no way I'm going to roll into Boston later this afternoon without them. With a relatively short and easy ride ahead of us, I resolved to keep a much more leisurely pace today and check out the fun at the caboose pack. There's no camping tonight -- what would be the benefit in rushing ahead? Against my prudent instincts, I pack in an especially heavy breakfast. Those kielbasa sausages, eggs and cheesy potatoes were simply too good to pass up! There's definitely an air of excitement everywhere around camp today, realizing this is our last day of the journey. At the same time, there's a premature sense of melancholy that surfaces realizing, too, that -- despite its challenges -- the trip will be coming to an end this year. I'm glad I'm hanging out with the main packs on the road today. People are being extra conscious of rider safety today, considering what a shame it would be if any of us were to take a spill and forfeit the ride on the home stretch. In jest, some have invented more creative ways of calling out before passing. Sing it with me: "If you're passing on the left, ring your bell... [ding, ding], if you're passing on the left ring your bell... [ding, ding]..." Today's also when all the early ride recollections get passed around the peloton: one particularly memorable one is a incident involving a woman taking a wrong turn yesterday afternoon and accidentally riding on Interstate 95 for about five miles. Another involves some guy who, on Day Two, endured the misfortune of a broken saddle by having to ride about six miles standing on the pedals all the way to the next pit stop, where bike techs provided a temporary replacement. For the moment, I'm already starting to miss the traffic privileges extended to us ever since we left Bear Mountain three days ago. At each major town crossing, we've been extremely lucky to have sympathetic and cooperative policemen and women who have stopped car traffic to let us riders through an intersection, even when riding alone. That sort of privilege has already begun to dissipate as we roll through the suburbs of Boston. As we roll into Boston city limits, roads become noticably worse and intersection crossings (especially along points of the bike path parallel to Storrow Drive), quite treacherous. No time to let premature celebrations take over alertness now! As the view of the Boston skyline draws closer and closer, my heart races more and more. I've made it -- I've bloody made it. Later on, Joe muses out aloud to himself, "We're in Boston, Massachussets... and we got here on our [effen] bikes! And we did it for those who couldn't." Amen, Joe. Amen to that. We arrive at Government Center at around 1:00 PM, riding between lines of loud cheers. With two hours to burn between the time we parked our bikes at the holding area and the commencement of the Victory Ride towards the Boston Common, what's one to do? Why hit the bars outside Faneuil Hall, of course. Very few other riders had the same idea, but Joe, Patty, David and I are sitting at the bar, all smiles (euphoria AND air-conditioning) with some very UN-athletic beverages in hand. Three O'clock comes around and we're assembled back out the holding area outside Boston City Hall. Donning our long sleeved, red victory ride t-shirts (perfect attire for a sweaty, Summer day, wouldn't you say?), we roll out onto Tremont Street in a more orderly fashion than I ever witnessed in the past four days. On the way to the Boston Common, there's more stop-and-go, just like the ride out from Bear Mountain. Gridlocked riders have found a more creative means of entertainment this time, however: playing beach ball with plastic gallon water jugs. Soon as we get on our bikes for real, the actual Victory Ride lasts all of three minutes until we get as close as possible to the closing ceremony stage. The highlight of closing ceremony for me is the same procession made by the Positive Pedalers as in Day One, who marched the riderless bicycle to the stage -- this time, we even greater sense of sadness and triumph having made this journey without those who could have ridden their bikes like we did today, but instead succumbed to AIDS. It's this moment, and that when the entire crew team during the Ride is celebrated with their march to the stage when -- once again -- I begin to sob uncontrollably. In my heart, I try to speak to all those I've never met, yet to whom I've dedicated this journey -- never shall it be my last. As I exchange good-byes and see-you-laters with David, Joe, Patty and other riders and crew I merely knew by face, I begin to feel like that kid on Day Zero again -- this time, saddened to leave that Summer camp after such a hallowing experience. After retrieving my luggage from the gear truck one last time, I head off to the other side of the public gardens in search of my home for the coming night. I give serious props to the Omni Parker House hotel, where I stay tonight, for upgrading rooms for all the AIDSRiders and crew. I find myself at the top floor of the hotel, gazing at an enormous bed in a well appointed room with a view -- a strange but welcome comfort. In just a few minutes after a long, hot shower, I find myself asleep and dreaming about the magic that was the greatest human retreat I've ever experienced, the continued battle we waged for the benefit of those who have to suffer with HIV/AIDS. In the morning, I'll wake -- never the same old person again.
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