A Simple Cup Of Coffee

I will follow him,

Follow him wherever he may go,

And near him I always will be,

For nothing can keep me away,

He is my destiny.

I Will Follow Him, Frank Pourcel, Paul Mauriat, Arthur Altman & Norman Gimbel (1962).

Sitting at a picnic table by the Berlin Wall Memorial on a gorgeous Saturday morning, I fire up the stove to brew my first cup of coffee. The city is slowly awakening, as walkers, runners, and cyclists occasionally pass by. This is a peaceful little spot away from the main bike path, so most probably don't notice me sitting there in the shade.

But one guy did. He was walking directly from Rapid Creek across the grass some distance from me toward the Civic Center parking lot. Carrying a gas station coffee cup and a small towel over his shoulder, he smiles and waves. I acknowledge and yell, "Would you like a cup of hot coffee? I'll make it right here!"

No hesitation. He strides right over to me and changes my day.

John preparing to leave for his next calling.

As he approaches, I see a face that simply glows with peace and joy. He thanks me for the invitation and wants to know all about me and what I'm doing. I tell him this is simply an early start to this month's #CoffeeOutside - Rapid City, an informal, outdoor gathering of the local cycling community over coffee. I'd be happy to brew a fresh cup for him. And here's some relatively healthy treats to go with it.

He says it all looks awesome. His name is John, but he really wants to hear more about Coffee Outside and how I brew coffee right there on a picnic table. So, I talk of our little community and go through my process with a JetBoil stove, freshly ground coffee, and AeroPress filtering system. With his first sip, he closes his eyes and sighs deeply, "Ahh. That's good coffee." Then, he slowly starts to talk.

CoffeeOutside groups in the United States.
(image from pathlesspedaled.com)

John is a man currently living out of a truck, but he's not broke and he's not homeless. Far from it. He's a man on a mission.

Not long ago, John worked a steady construction job in Chicago, lived in a good part of town, and thought he had the world by the tail. When a girlfriend started dabbling in meth, John joined that scene and quickly spiraled out of control. Darkness and hopelessness enveloped his world, threatening his very life. 

Somehow, at those depths, John saw a light. He saw Jesus. He gave his life to Jesus and instantly changed.

John sold or gave away most everything, packed up a few things in his truck, and asked God where to go to serve. Right then, as he was leaving Chicago on I-90 near O'Hare Airport, the music in his truck abruptly stopped and an electronic billboard overhead flashed "Nebraska, The Good Life."

So, John headed to Nebraska and, along the way, learned of the store in White Clay that sells millions of cans of beer annually to residents of Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. That's it. He drove directly to Pine Ridge, knowing nobody there and nothing of the culture.

Initially facing opposition and even hostility, John says that he simply made himself available to others, served as able, and eventually was accepted by the community. About a month later, John heard a new calling to go to Rapid City. So, he reluctantly left Pine Ridge.

In Rapid City, he immediately landed a construction job and continued to serve. He had been here for about a month before hearing his next calling to go to Polson, Montana. Again, John reluctantly decided to leave because he believed that's where God called him to go.

Before John left Rapid City, however, a local minister agreed to baptize him. That's why John carried a small towel. He had just been baptized in Rapid Creek moments before stopping by for coffee. Wow.

That explains his sparkling eyes, undeniable joy, and inner peace. John is a new man with a servant's heart. And he's out there listening to God's voice and following it.

What a blessing to share this time with him. All starting with a simple cup of coffee.

Go, in peace, John. Praise God.

I Will Follow Him, Peggy March (1963)

I Will Follow Him, Sister Act (1992).

A Single Speed Lifestyle

You're still the one that makes me strong

Still the one I want to take along

We're still having fun and you're still the one

Still The One, Johanna Hall and John Hall (1976)

Single speed mountain biking caught on in certain circles awhile back, but largely dissipated over time. Not for me. My primary mountain bike from 2001-2018 was a rigid steel single speed. Although I added a geared Jones 29+ mountain bike for bikepacking in 2018, my two other mountain bikes remain rigid single speed, even now.

Inexplicably, signs stir of a single speed resurgence, at least here in the Black Hills of South Dakota. See, e.g., Single Speed Shindig. Sweet. I love the single speed mindset and resulting lifestyle.

Tooling around the house on my new Rock Hopper Comp (December 1991)

In late December 1991, yes that's over 30 years ago, I stepped into our suburban Denver home after yet another long work day. I'm done. But Colleen has other thoughts. She presents a shiny new mountain bike as a congratulatory gift for my making partner at my law firm.

It's a Specialized Rock Hopper Comp, a solid mid-level mountain bike at the time. Rigid steel frame. 26 inch wheels. 2 inch wide knobby tires. Cantilever rim brakes. 3x8 speed drivetrain. 24/36/46 chain rings x 13/28 cassette. Trigger shifters. Flat bars. Flat pedals with toe clips. Braze-ons for racks and fenders. Too cool for school.

A few months before, I had rented that very bike from a local bike shop. For my first ever mountain bike ride, a friend suggested 24 miles of single track Colorado Trail from Kenosha Pass to Georgia Pass and back. Wow. That bike was fast, fun, and so capable off-pavement. At every opportunity, I rode anything that looked like a road or trail or goat path. I was hooked.

In the late 1990's, I started racing mountain bikes and soon found myself in a nuclear arms race. That is, with dizzying advances in suspension, gearing, brakes, and seemingly everything else on a bike, one could buy performance and relative placing in amateur racing. For a few years, I plunged into the fray, buying a racing mountain bike and continuously upgrading components, which relegated the stodgy, heavy, hopelessly out of date Rock Hopper to back up/loaner bike.

Then, in 2001, for some reason I converted the Rock Hopper to single speed for an occasional commute to work. On the very first ride, I experienced an epiphany. This is it. This is the way. Strip it all down. Simplify it all. Everything. It's about the ride, not the bike. Ride. Just ride.

I bailed out of the rat race, ditching all the latest, greatest, gee-whiz technology. Just like that, I chose to ride a rigid single speed as my primary mountain bike for everything, including several years at the 24 Hours of Moab, the Dakota Five-O, and similar mountain bike races. It was hard. It was awesome. It was perfect for me.

My Rock Hopper dressed for a final commute to work on June 30, 2020,
with some original turquoise paint peeking through on the top tube.
The "IRONCLAD" decal represents the old mountain bike racing team of ChristianCycling.org.

Over time, I converted an odd assortment of beater bikes to single speed or fixed, even fashioning an old mountain bike into a banana seat, ape hanger cruiser. My few remaining geared bikes languished, practically unridden. In 2010, I decided to try a drop bar mountain bike, so I built up a new, rigid, drop bar, Kona Unit 29er single speed as my primary mountain bike. The Rock Hopper moved back to commuter, where it's been ever since.

Sometimes set up single speed and sometimes fixed, the Rock Hopper carried me many of the final years that I commuted to work in Rapid City. My retirement in 2020 closed that chapter, but the Rock Hopper still brings a smile to face when spinning to CoffeeOutside - Rapid City and other low key rides.

After 30 years, it's still the one.

Still The One, Orleans (1976)