So I’m riding my bike normal like, you know. My bike’s been all over the world and then—this happens! Oh crap! That is not normal. That there…that there’s a broken bicycle. It’s kind of sad. I think this bike’s had its last revolution of the pedals.

My dear sweet Trek 8000 is kaput. I really loved you. I really did love this bike—a lot! It was almost like it was part of my body. I knew everything about this bike—every squeak and every twist and every sound—I knew everything. This bike and I…we have been through some serious adventures in the past 13 years. I bought this bike used when I was a Peace Corps volunteer in Honduras back in 2003.

This bike allowed me to get to places that cars couldn’t even get to. This bike got me to far-off villages in the middle of these mountains outside of my sight in Honduras.

My very first bike touring adventure was on this bike. I had no idea what I was doing; I just got on it, packed some food and hit the road—and it was a total failure! “Right, here I am, on a little adventure trip. It’s about noon; I am in the middle of nowhere. This is not really a road, it’s more of a very treacherously steep and slippery path. I’m having a lot of fun, so check out my bike—oh yeah. That’s what we look like here.”

And when I finished my Peace Corps service or even before I finished, I planned this grand idea to ride this bike home back to Boulder, Colorado. I didn’t want to just fly home after two years of serving as a Peace Corps volunteer; I wanted to ride my bike home—slowly. Take the long way home and really process what I had done for two years working with all of these kids. This was one of the first times in my life I was like— “Yes!” This is pure freedom—it is just me, my bike, and the open road. “I’m hiding under a bridge right now.” I didn’t know anything, really, I just headed north and just kept pedaling and pedaling, and pedaling. I would camp off the side of the road and get up in the morning, pack my stuff up and get back on the bike. And I’d never felt so alive in my life—it was the best adventure ever! And I met so many wonderful people, and I saw so many beautiful sights, and this bike was always there—it was tough; I only had one flat tire the entire ride home. “There we go—the Colorado flag is flying, baby. Welcome home, Jeff and Ryan.”

And when I finally got home, it got me so excited about bike touring that I didn’t really stop—I kept riding and riding and riding, and then I decided to ride it from Maine to Key West all the way down the East Coast, and I saw all the beautiful sights along the Eastern seaboard, and many a year later, I was like—you know what? I want to ride this thing down the West Coast to see what the West Coast is all about. So I rode from Vancouver all the way down to Cabo San Lucas. And I saw some of the most beautiful sunsets of my life on this ride. “This is the perfect end to an epic day—oh man, I’m a lucky boy—this is so awesome!” And then I fired up the old Trek once again and rode across the country with my buddy Nick—going through the American South. And I had never experienced it before, and it was mind-blowing. I loved it.

This bike taught me a lot about life. This bike taught me about patience. This bike taught me about hard work. This bike taught me about pain and suffering, and pure joy… It’s crazy, really, this bike— I’m kind of talking about it like it’s a living, breathing thing, but it was really—it’s a piece of metal and two wheels. It doesn’t have a heart or a soul, but it was- it was so much to me. Maybe, I gave it a heart and a soul through all of this, and that’s why I feel so connected to this little thing, this little machine—this beautiful bike.

I love it. I absolutely love it. And I think it’s pretty cool the way that it’s said goodbye to me. It got me up one last hill and just snapped in half, and said, “Ryan, I’ve taken you a long way; it’s time for you to carry on.”—you know. I just sat on the side of the road as it was broken, thinking to myself, actually I was smiling the whole time—I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t bummed, I wasn’t pissed off, I wasn’t thinking about how much money I’m gonna have to spend to get a new bike—I was just smiling. This thing died a warrior’s death. And… I’m proud, I’m proud of what we did together. Pretty damn cool when you think about it.

This transcript is published here with the permission of the creator of the video: The Loyal Steed – The Last Ride of My Trek 8000 by Ryan Van Duzer. Transcribed from https://youtu.be/iqtfxiuI7-8