MANKATO — Back in March, when I was exchanging e-mails with Eric and Christie Nelson about their bike trip from Mankato to the tip of South America, Christie had a response that really stuck out in my mind:

“Life on a bicycle, without windows, automatic locks or a cell phone, gives us more intimate experiences, makes us more sensitive and open to the world around us. There’s also a universal understanding of the physical challenge (of biking) and respect that follows, which makes us more approachable. …”

I always loved that quote, not because I completely understood it, but because I felt it captured the essence of the Nelsons’ mindset and what they were going through.

Due to the nature of their trip, the Nelsons almost HAD to be sensitive to their world around them and the different cultures they would encounter. They weren’t biking across countries like Columbia and Nicaragua with a tourist mindset.

Despite grasping its concept, I don’t think I could ever completely understand Christie’s quote. I may be an avid cyclist, but I’ve never been on, and probably never will be on, a biking adventure like the Nelsons are currently on. I can barely fathom traveling across two states, let alone two continents.

However, after a recent bike trip to Blue Earth, I can honestly say that I’ve experienced Christie’s quote in some capacity.

By all accounts, the trip was complete disaster. The beautiful weather that day (80 degrees and not a cloud in the sky) led to terrible sunburn on my back, plus I had to patch three different leaks on my rear tire and broke my tire pump along the way. On top of that, my cell phone didn’t get reception anywhere on the road, there weren’t any bike shops in Blue Earth and the one gas station in town with a decent air pump actually charged for usage.

By the time I finally got to the Jolly Green Giant statue, I didn’t know whether to take a picture of it or throw my cell phone at it.

I found a Wal-Mart in Blue Earth, but due to its scaled-down size (really, it was a glorified hardware store), aside from tire slime, the store really didn’t have much for bike repair. I knew tire slime was a useful tool for flat tires on cars, but I had never used it on a bike tire before, nor did I have any idea how to safely remove the air valve on my tire.

It wasn’t exactly the best situation to be in: It was getting late, my tire was mangled, I wasn’t sure on how to repair it and I had no idea if I was going to make it home that night. But while fumbling around with a bottle of tire slime in front of Wal-Mart, my luck began to change thanks to a Good Samaritan in the form of a wrench-turning motorcyclist who was walking out of the store at the time.

Rather than walking past me and continuing on with his day, the guy was nice enough to grab his tool kit off his bike and help me with my repairs. He did so without any prompting or expectation of reward or praise. Really, all he wanted was to help a person in need. With his help, I was able to make it back to Mankato just before it got too dark out and didn’t have any further trouble with my tire.

Does this sort of helpfulness occur had I been fumbling around with my car at the time? Possibly. For all I know, the guy spends his free time helping old ladies cross the street and rescuing cats from trees.

But one thing is for certain: Despite not owning a bicycle of his own, the motorcyclist understood and respected the physical challenges I went through to get to that position. The vulnerability that comes with traveling on a bike made me more approachable and made me more receptive to receiving help from others.

It may not have been an adventure to South America, but my bike trip to Southern Minnesota was a learning experience in its own right.



Alex Voigt is a Free Press copy editor. He is at 344-6389 or at avoigt@mankatofreepress.com. He also has a health and fitness blog at www.mankatofreepress.com.