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Our first morning in Washington came so quickly it was as if one day had simply flipped into another and I, with absolutely no sleep whatsoever, I was forced to accept the prospect of driving #6 to work and leaving her there in order to return to Ben and our bicycles — both of which had lost all of their attraction and excitement. I put on a happy face, though, for Ben, being the kind friend that he is, had finagled a way to visit some distant relatives of his that afternoon so I could have some quality alone time with my new love. With that in mind, we tore through our boxes with reckless abandon throwing pieces throughout the condominium, expressing the joy of knowing that a list need not be consulted and that we had everything we needed. The bikes went together without a hiccup and with the exception of a fairly audible ping from my front tire, everything appeared to have arrived safely. We were relieved.

On the morning of July 22nd, with #6 at work and thoughts of the two of us dancing through my head, the tire was just lonesome. And so was I. We sang our woes together. Ping. Ping. Ping. It was a common tune and one that Ben would hear often. And yet: still he didn’t wear earplugs.

DAMON: June 22nd, AM, we are in Seattle.

BEN: Woo hoo!

DAMON: The whole #6 thing has been taken care of. It’s no longer an issue.

BEN: It was an embarrassment how fast that was taken care of.

The heaviest item we carried on our bicycles from beginning to end was our supply of Sharkies. A Sharkie is an organic brand of fruit snack that has been cleverly formed into the shape of a shark. There are different flavors of Sharkies although no one can tell the difference between them. Ben and I are, personally, responsible for the financial security of the company. As of yet, we have found no one else who will eat more than one Sharkie without making a tortured face and a spitting noise and this is good because we don’t have to share them with anyone but ourselves. And for that: we are grateful. We love them.

I spent fifty dollars, before the trip began, collecting the largest bag of Sharkies ever seen under one roof. They all came with us to Washington and when we went to REI to purchase our fuel we selected a few new flavors to add to our collection and were immediately contacted by members of the Guinness Book of World Records. Some of these original Sharkies came with us all the way to San Francisco — many were eaten. And in our time of greatest need on the trip (which came on our second day of biking) they were what propelled us forward and upward.

In August, after the trip was done and all our muscles had recovered, when Ben and I reunited for the first time after three weeks of not speaking to one another, I drew from my pocket a bag of Sharkies and we broke open that bag and ate them together and all was well between us.

Tension is caused by the friction inherent in two opposing forces that are brought together. Two friends and a love interest cause tension because of the opposing forces at work: there isn’t enough of one person to go around. I have seen it happen with others and with myself but never with others, myself and Ben. Between us there is not resistance, no pressure, no pushing back, no uneasiness or bitter feelings. There is no tension because when I push Ben secedes and when Ben pushes I whine until I get my way. That morning in Washington all I had to do was look at my friend and he said:

“I will do everything in my power to find something to keep me busy this afternoon and evening — don’t worry about me. I will get a ride and be taken care of and see you in the morning. Go forth and multiply. Godspeed my friend. Tomorrow we ride.”

After our errands in Seattle I left him downtown to fend for himself and went back to suburbia to pick up #6 from work. Ben and I were ready to go; we had done what we needed to do. We had everything and everything was as had been planned. Everything, at least, for him. I was adrift in uncharted waters, at that point, and unsure where my ship would sail or if it would survive the storm at all. I sat in the parking lot and lowered the seat back, closing my eyes and listening to a Tracy Chapman CD, telling myself to breathe. Just to breathe. I was exhausted and we hadn’t even begun yet; emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

What had I done? What was I going to do? How could I let myself fall for someone this hard again? I drifted into a fitful nap and was awoken by a soft touch on my shoulder. And in that moment, everything was all right. I don’t remember what happened next.

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