I’m excited to go to Africa, specifically because the last year I’ve been having this apparent issue with feeling entitled. I don’t really show it on the outside but I definitely witness the thoughts that come up when I’m hitchhiking or when I’m around men. I suddenly expect them to buy me things or take care of me simply because I’m a girl. It’s just a recognition of the experience but I’m ready for my ego to be humbled. I feel Africa will be a great reminder to appreciate things/people in a deeper kine way.
I stayed with CTM for a couple of days so I could get my bicycle gear together. We went to REI and I showed one of the workers a list of all the items I needed. He helped gather everything, also surprised that I was doing this at the last second. I mean, I did the same thing on my first thru-hike and it seemed to work out fine.
They tried to convince me to get a helmet but I didn’t want it to mess up fashion statement.
“And it’s going to mess up my hair,” I said.
“Oh my God,” CTM scoffed. “Are you not going to say it?”
“Say what?”
“Jesus Christ, I’ll just say it for you then.” She looked at the guy who appeared nervous for me. “She’s a triple crowner,” CTM said.
That wasn’t even on my mind. She just wanted to point out that I was not some ditsy dumb girl who was going to die in Africa because she didn’t know what she was doing.
“You’re a triple crowner and you’re worried about how your hair will look?” he asked.
“Well, yeah,” I joked. “Still gotta look cute to pick up the boys.”
He laughed and handed me an olive green helmet. “This will match your hair.”
Then, my brother suggested we get my bike packed by some professionals, so the following day we went to a local bike store. CTM and I walked in with a giant cardboard box, my big hiking pack and the bike that was taken apart in order to fit into the car properly.
All of the guys stared at me until one asked, “Are you bikepacking?”
“Yes,” I said. “I need my bike packed up in this box please.”
“Okay… When do you need it by?”
“Today. I’m going to Africa tomorrow.”
All 4-5 guys looked at each other in silence, holding back their laughter.
CTM goes, “Wait, there’s more. She’s never ridden a bike before.”
“Oh my god, I’ll be fine.”
They said they could do it today for $100. I gave them the wheel of my bike then the extra bike seat I had. I figured they could pack some of the items I had in my backpack but with all of the cycling gear as well it wouldn’t have been possible.
I watched them, figuring they’d do it all in a few minutes.
“We’ll call you in a couple of hours,” one of them said.
In the meantime, CTM took me to a loop trail for a quick hike. I got annoyed by all the cyclists zooming by, forgetting that was about to be me. By the time we finished, the bike was ready to be picked up.
I walked in all ditsy and happy to see the final result then went to pay for the service.
The store clerk goes, “Sign your autograph on the receipt for me.”
I blushed and said, “Don’t mind if I do.”
CTM laughed.
“So where in Africa are you going?” one of the guys asked.
“Uhhh, I think it’s Ghana.”
“You think it’s Ghana?”
“I don’t know why she said it like that,” CTM butted in. “It is Ghana.”
Then, I asked if he could put handlebars on the box for easier carry at the airport.
“I’ll cut some out on the side,” he said.
I implied we needed help carrying it out, explaining to CTM that my mom would never allow me to carry heavy items. “That’s what a man is for,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ. We got this,” then stuck her hand into the handle. The moment she lifted it, the box ripped from under her and fell back onto the ground. I nearly pissed myself laughing.
We waved goodbye to the boys and told them thank you as we barely carried out the bike.
They all waved goodbye. “Have fun in… *holding back laughter* Africa!”
