One more hill
By: Dad AKA Matt
Let me set the table for this story. It was summertime and I was 15 years old. Since I couldn’t drive yet, my main mode of transportation was my bike. It was a pretty standard mountain bike, which could get me to and from the nearest town, about 5 miles away. I spent everyday that summer going somewhere on that bike with my friends. One Friday, my dad got home from work and said to call Joel and Bum (my friends that lived nearby) to come spend the night and bring their bikes. I asked what he had in mind and he just smiled, saying “you’ll see”. The only other information he would divulge was that they should bring some spending money and not to make any other plans for Saturday.
That morning, my dad woke us up early to get started. He still wouldn’t tell us where we were going or how far the ride would be, just insisted that we were going on an adventure. Shrugging our shoulders, we mounted up. We had learned a long time ago not to question him.
The ride started off without any issues. We enjoyed the cool morning temps and each other’s company for the first 2 hours. We decided to stop at a country diner for breakfast after about 20 miles. We walked in with our sleeveless shirts, bandanas on our heads, dripping sweat. Joel had grease on his face from fixing a slipped chain. That was when the mood changed. Every customer in the restaurant stopped and stared, obviously disgusted with the white trash invading their local feeding hole. It really didn’t help when Bum pulled a sweaty $20 bill out of his sock to pay for his breakfast. That uncomfortable environment could have ruined our morning, but we were too excited about our “adventure”! We enjoyed the hot food and brief break, feeling ready to take on the rest of the day.
I would estimate that somewhere around mile 35 we started asking when the heck we were gonna reach wherever we were going. We weren’t exhausted, but getting pretty uncomfortable. I remember my dad finally gave in and pointed toward the horizon, saying “just over that hill”. Eureka! My friends and I raced ahead, excited to get there! Two miles later, we made it over the hill and waited for my dad to catch up. “Where is it, dad? Where are we going?” He pointed off into the distance again. “Just over that hill.” This continued for several more miles and hill climbs. Knowing how he is, I could see how this was going to play out. We stopped asking. Instead, we developed a new mantra. “Just one more hill!”
Just over 50 miles away from home, we pulled into a campground right along Penns Creek. I hadn’t known it, but my dad had called ahead and told a family friend we would be stopping by his camper for lunch. While he fixed a nutritious lunch of hot dogs and potato chips, we spent our precious recuperation time swimming and going off the nearby rope swing! We were assuming (very bad idea) that we would be loading our bikes into his friends truck to go home. Two hours later, my dad called us in from the water, saying we had better get moving if we were going to make it home before dark. Hold up. We were biking ANOTHER 50 miles?? We gave a weary laugh, shrugged our shoulders and got back on the bike, heading for home.
The ride home was much quieter and slower. This didn’t help with the next chain of events. For those that don’t know, some of the area near Penns Creek is owned by Amish families. Those same families use their horse and buggies on the public roads from time to time. As luck would have it, we came upon one on our way home. These buggies probably average around 15-20 mph, so you have to get up to a pretty decent speed to pass them. After about 60 miles and 5 hours of pedaling, it was harder than usual. Joel and I stood up on the pedals and dropped the hammer, passing the buggy and tossing a wave as we went by. We looked around but had lost Bum! He was still stuck behind the buggy! Cars were coming from the other direction on this 2-lane road, so he was momentarily trapped. This must have been a signal to the horse. He decided it was time to relieve himself, dropping land mines for Bum to swerve and dodge for the next half mile. Watching our friend dodge horse s&$t and desperately try to pass that buggy is something that we will never forget.
We made it home just as the sun set that evening, having spent the entire day on our bicycles. We had ridden at least 80 miles further that day than any other time before. We were beyond tired, everything seemed to hurt, and a hot shower felt like heaven. We didn’t know it at the time, but we had gained something that day. The limits we had set in our minds weren’t anywhere close to what we were really capable of. To my boys, the next time you are ready to give up or don’t feel like you have anything left to give, make yourself do “one more hill”. Your limits exceed beyond what you may think.
Let me set the table for this story. It was summertime and I was 15 years old. Since I couldn’t drive yet, my main mode of transportation was my bike. It was a pretty standard mountain bike, which could get me to and from the nearest town, about 5 miles away. I spent everyday that summer going somewhere on that bike with my friends. One Friday, my dad got home from work and said to call Joel and Bum (my friends that lived nearby) to come spend the night and bring their bikes. I asked what he had in mind and he just smiled, saying “you’ll see”. The only other information he would divulge was that they should bring some spending money and not to make any other plans for Saturday.
That morning, my dad woke us up early to get started. He still wouldn’t tell us where we were going or how far the ride would be, just insisted that we were going on an adventure. Shrugging our shoulders, we mounted up. We had learned a long time ago not to question him.
The ride started off without any issues. We enjoyed the cool morning temps and each other’s company for the first 2 hours. We decided to stop at a country diner for breakfast after about 20 miles. We walked in with our sleeveless shirts, bandanas on our heads, dripping sweat. Joel had grease on his face from fixing a slipped chain. That was when the mood changed. Every customer in the restaurant stopped and stared, obviously disgusted with the white trash invading their local feeding hole. It really didn’t help when Bum pulled a sweaty $20 bill out of his sock to pay for his breakfast. That uncomfortable environment could have ruined our morning, but we were too excited about our “adventure”! We enjoyed the hot food and brief break, feeling ready to take on the rest of the day.
I would estimate that somewhere around mile 35 we started asking when the heck we were gonna reach wherever we were going. We weren’t exhausted, but getting pretty uncomfortable. I remember my dad finally gave in and pointed toward the horizon, saying “just over that hill”. Eureka! My friends and I raced ahead, excited to get there! Two miles later, we made it over the hill and waited for my dad to catch up. “Where is it, dad? Where are we going?” He pointed off into the distance again. “Just over that hill.” This continued for several more miles and hill climbs. Knowing how he is, I could see how this was going to play out. We stopped asking. Instead, we developed a new mantra. “Just one more hill!”
Just over 50 miles away from home, we pulled into a campground right along Penns Creek. I hadn’t known it, but my dad had called ahead and told a family friend we would be stopping by his camper for lunch. While he fixed a nutritious lunch of hot dogs and potato chips, we spent our precious recuperation time swimming and going off the nearby rope swing! We were assuming (very bad idea) that we would be loading our bikes into his friends truck to go home. Two hours later, my dad called us in from the water, saying we had better get moving if we were going to make it home before dark. Hold up. We were biking ANOTHER 50 miles?? We gave a weary laugh, shrugged our shoulders and got back on the bike, heading for home.
The ride home was much quieter and slower. This didn’t help with the next chain of events. For those that don’t know, some of the area near Penns Creek is owned by Amish families. Those same families use their horse and buggies on the public roads from time to time. As luck would have it, we came upon one on our way home. These buggies probably average around 15-20 mph, so you have to get up to a pretty decent speed to pass them. After about 60 miles and 5 hours of pedaling, it was harder than usual. Joel and I stood up on the pedals and dropped the hammer, passing the buggy and tossing a wave as we went by. We looked around but had lost Bum! He was still stuck behind the buggy! Cars were coming from the other direction on this 2-lane road, so he was momentarily trapped. This must have been a signal to the horse. He decided it was time to relieve himself, dropping land mines for Bum to swerve and dodge for the next half mile. Watching our friend dodge horse s&$t and desperately try to pass that buggy is something that we will never forget.
We made it home just as the sun set that evening, having spent the entire day on our bicycles. We had ridden at least 80 miles further that day than any other time before. We were beyond tired, everything seemed to hurt, and a hot shower felt like heaven. We didn’t know it at the time, but we had gained something that day. The limits we had set in our minds weren’t anywhere close to what we were really capable of. To my boys, the next time you are ready to give up or don’t feel like you have anything left to give, make yourself do “one more hill”. Your limits exceed beyond what you may think.
Very inspirational, Matt! Your story got me thinking....in most situations, we know "the distance" ahead of time, especially in sports competitions or on a trip. This allows us to gauge our "output" accordingly. What I loved about your memory is you didn't know the distance, so the journey tested your perseverance in a profound way! And you made it back to home sweet home!!! Thank you for sharing :)
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