A Community Not my Own: Bike Traveling Eastern U.S.

Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina

This is eastern North Carolina. A place where cotton grows, peanuts are boiled and folks, young and old like to call you “ma’am” and ask who you are “kin” to. It’s also a place where everyone seems to have a friend or a cousin that you should meet.

While taking cover from steady rain showers, a couple of local bikers suggested a cozy coffee shop owned by a distant family member. At the coffee shop, where all the townspeople seemed to gather, the owner suggested an outfitting store with a couple of bike wizards behind the counter. There I met Dave, a bike tourist himself, who knew the wears and tears of many road miles and spent a good couple hours tending to my bikes tedious needs. Afterwards, he brought me to a large map of the area and showed me the farm to market roads best for bikers. Dave refused to let me pay him, he said, “You’re passing through our community, so we take care of you.”
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And I biked away from the town, gears and chain in better shape, wishing everyone could know what it feels like to receive a giant hug from a community that is not their own.