As the police officer got out of his car and went fishing for something in his trunk, Eivind and I plotted our damage control strategy. The officer started walking towards us. It was clear. There would be no escaping this confrontation.
I think the ensuing exchange caught all parties off guard. It turned out, the friendly police officer wanted nothing more than to introduce himself and take a picture to show the wife and kids. He even asked if we were raising money for something. He seemed quite prepared to contribute to our cause. Meanwhile, our nerves were so rattled that we were barely able to break out of a "yes sir", "no sir" line of response. At least our smiles in parting were expressive and heartfelt.
We would wear those smiles through the day and straight through to the next morning, when we rolled up to the lighthouse at East Point, Prince Edward Island. Our odyssey complete, we gazed with satisfaction over the steep sandstone cliffs to the ocean below.
Today, the couch sits quietly in my living room at home. No medals or ceremonial afghans adorn its backrest. But every so often, in a search for the remote control, cushions will be overturned to reveal some treasure like a seashell or a stone. These accidental mementos take me back to that crazy summer, and the trip I took with Eivind. We may not have ridden the fastest or traveled the farthest, but we most certainly laughed the hardest. And in cycling as in life, I think that's about all that really matters.
by Brent Curry
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