At the age of 16, Kate and I cycle across America together. I call her Katooshka and she calls me Analooshka. We each buy matching teddy bears at a campground store in Wisconsin, strapping them to the backs of our bikes.
11 years later, my plush duck is still sitting on my shelf.
At 18, we cycle through Virginia’s leaky heat on our first-ever independent bike tour. Months after my mom’s death, we escape our respective shitty years by flying to Oregon for a bike trip, wading through Oneonta Gorge, lunching on lifeguard chairs and gas station floors.