May 7, 2025
51: breakfast busker, no interesting pictures, my own soap, a break from the excitement, talking mailboxes, see you soon
Amelia Courthouse to Midlothian
After loading up the bike I pedaled across the street to the Food Lion to buy breakfast, then sat outside and leaned against one of the closed businesses in the strip mall to eat.
As I was sitting there eating my banana and yogurt I heard some music drifting across the parking lot. The acoustics were such that I couldn't tell where it was coming from and, listening to the sound of a violin emanating from nowhere and everywhere, I felt an overpowering sensation: I wanted to cry. You should know that I'm not a person who cries, ever, but the emotion was overwhelming. I couldn't even say what I was feeling.... Joy? Sadness? I don't know.
I had to find out where it was coming from so, like a bloodhound tracking a scent, I stood up and followed it to the source. What I found was a busker on an island in the middle of this small strip mall and I rolled my bike over to investigate.
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The busker, Emanuel, was between songs when I arrived and after the initial introductions he began telling me his story. Our conversation was in stops and starts because of his broken English, but I learned that he was raised in Romania by a Romanian father and German mother, and has worked in construction for most of his life. He showed me some pictures of the work he’s done, scattered in cities off over the country, all of which looked very nice (of course, who’s going to show their mistakes?).
Emanuel is in the middle of this strip mall in a town of 1,200 people playing music because, with the new administration’s policies, he can no longer find work without a green card. Finances are to the point where he’s concerned about not being able to support his family (here he showed me pictures of his wife and two children). Unable to go back to Romania, he’s trying to garner enough money to make it to Berlin. I asked about whether he could apply for German citizenship, but he because said his mother is German he can’t - his father has to be German. [I looked this up later and it was true, but the law recently changed]
He asked if I believed in Jesus, letting me know he still has faith in God despite his current situation, and shortly afterwards asked whether I was afraid being on the road. When I told him no, and that I’ve found everyone to be very kind, he warned, "Be careful of the Blacks and the Mexicans. They will rob you.”
I gave him some money when I got there, but the conversation regularly returned to a request for more money. It’s possible there’s no family and no work history, and that he was simply trying to hustle me. Honestly, I didn’t care. I just wanted him to play the violin again.
And he did.
At first, I could tell that he was going through the motions, rotely fingering the strings for a song he’d played more than a hundred times before but, at one point, for about fifteen seconds, he went somewhere else… to that place that only music can take us. Then he came back and realized I was standing there and gave me a small smile.
Although I could’ve sat there for a couple of hours listening to him play, I gave him a little more money and left. He asked God to bless me, and I rode off into a blessed headwind.
There are very few pictures today because I was navigating my way through suburbia, with a lot of turns and not much to photograph.
Once I arrived at the hotel I took a shower, then walked across the parking lot to the mall and ate dinner.... exciting, edge-of-your-seat events.
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This will be my last posting for about three weeks. I'm still really enjoying the trip, but will be taking a vacation from my vacation. Heather, who is still working, has some scheduled time off and after I reintroduce myself we'll be doing some traveling together. I'm sure I'll get out of shape really fast, and when I return the first week of June I'm going to have to start my conditioning all over again.
I think it's a good idea for you to take a break as well. I mean, who knew that you’d be seeing such exciting locations as the retirement city of Sandy Koufax, and the home of a relative of P. T. Barnum? Info about me walking to the mall? It makes your head swim, and too much of the likes of that could cause palpitations. Catch your breath and we'll crank this show up again before too long.
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I'll leave you with one last observation from the trip, an organized collection of mailbox pictures. Having passed thousands of mailboxes since I left Key West I've noticed different ways in which people protect them, and how I suspect they reflect the owners' personalities.
Thus, Mark's Varying Approaches to Mailbox Awareness:
In avoiding the destruction of a mailbox I've found that there are three categories:
Category One: Reflectors.
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Category Two:
Within those two groups I've noticed variations as well. First, within the Reflector group:
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And within the Make My Day group:
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The third category is Other, and includes mailboxes that don't fit into either of the above categories.
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If you haven't already, don't forget to create an account with CycleBlaze. During the process, there's a box to check that you'd like to receive emails from people you follow. Click yes, then go to any one of my entries and click on the green "Follow" box at the top. That way, when I return you'll get notified.
If you're looking for something to read while I'm gone, there are a lot of great journals on CycleBlaze, and from people who are better writers than me, traveling all over the world. Check some of them out: CycleBlaze Journals
If you want to read any of my other journals, I suggest starting with my very first trip. It's a very short read:
A Bike Tour Lasting Thirty Seconds
Or, perhaps the first lengthy tour, back when I was
Younger and Dumber
See you when I get back!
Today's ride: 29 miles (47 km)
Total: 1,394 miles (2,243 km)
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