Afraid? It was something that I shouldn’t have ignored. Give me credit. I didn’t totally ignore it. We try to justify our actions, or inaction, when something goes wrong, don’t we? And pay the price later, if there’s a price to pay. I wanted to keep my distance in a bed that took up most of the room, yet in a bed that never felt big enough for the both of us. A room with a Bible and a telephone in it…could’ve called someone, but didn’t think it was necessary. Wasn’t thinking. So what does that make me? An accomplice? Mike had started again, and I admit now that I realized it.
Who could I have called? When had I last called my wife, or called and asked her for advice? Right enough, I should’ve called someone! After the last few days, I should have. I should’ve recognized the beginning of a cycle and should’ve known it would grow in intensity. In intensity…and also potentially violent, depending on how long it went on. And/or without intervention… Again I didn’t have a crystal ball; again every day was a struggle, as I…
Blame. What’s more it’s what a psychologist told me: that it wasn’t my fault and I know that…know that I couldn’t have stopped him. I knew it without him telling me. Figured it out on my own. It took two or three days. Yes, it troubled me. The town reminds me of it now, especially when I go through there, down the main drag and pass the same motel, but I by no means blame myself. Talking to a psychologist helped. A day or two afterwards.
Every so often a train went through the town. No one welcomed us. No one knew us from Adam. Only a flickering neon motel sign promised us something. WELCOME VACANCIES
Going over what happened in my mind. We had all the expected amenities, I couldn’t think of anything else we needed. Of course, our bikes and gear came inside with us.
Showers. Then sleep. Sleep would’ve been nice. I had decided to take a room with a single bed because I wasn’t at all certain of Mike. I don’t know what I was thinking, and that could pertain to almost the whole bicycle trip up until then.
Sleep. Neither one of us, however, really slept.
He tossed and turned and tossed and turned that night, and never stopped. I could hear the train and the traffic noise outside; some mouse escape from its hole, while doubts mounted and seemed to call for an end to our trip. Around midnight, he started to have spasms and used that to pressure me to let him get out of bed. In a manner of speaking, I was trying to hold him (or restrain him) against his will.
That he was stronger than me was evident. A test of strength no doubt. In bed a mighty struggle. Finally, I gave up. But hey, no one could say that I didn’t try. Then he started tearing the room up. I should’ve called the police then.
Who could’ve known then that he wouldn’t calm down after he exhausted himself? The day before he had, of course, and then he apologized, and he was perfectly normal by the time we rode into town. I knew what to expect or thought I did at that point. But shit I was wrong, dead wrong. We were in the farthest room away from the office. The people in the room next to ours were already up and packing their car, so I don’t know why they didn’t call the police. Just as he did the day before, Mike went on a rampage without his shirt or shoes and socks on. Then before I could do anything he ran out of the room, screaming like a lunatic. Though I was alarmed (and not very appreciative of Mike’s behavior), I shouldn’t have chased after him, but instead should’ve picked up the phone. When I ran past the people packing their car I… Where was I, for pity’s sake? Why did they just stand there?
A hundred yards from the highway. But Mike ran straight for it. Sadly…
This haunts me to this day, which I know is insane, but I knew I couldn’t catch Mike. This I’ve replayed in my mind a thousand times, at least a thousand. The question in the back my mind is what could I have done if I caught him?
The question remains what could I have done differently?
First and finally! Did I think I could stop him? Maybe. I don’t know. But by the time I reached the highway, it was too late.
After he ran in front of a truck and was killed, I felt sad. I missed him for sure, but realized I had started saying goodbye back when he started that crap about Big Foot and Jackalops. I hope his wife will be okay. I felt obligated to call her.
I saw it. If you run in front of a truck and are killed, I’ll feel sad. I hope his wife will be okay. Anyhow I didn’t mean for things to turn out the way they did. I don’t know for sure about Mike, and whether or not he intentionally ran in front of a truck. I don’t suppose it matters much now. I certainly don’t know for certain, and it was certainly hard to explain why he was running away from me with his shirt, shoes, and socks off, and I didn’t make it easier when I decided to keep all the details to myself.
And what about the bicycle tour? I finished it. A year later I finished it in honor of Mike. Went all by myself, but Mike was there. Listen to what I’m saying; that until I finished the bicycling tour I couldn’t move on. There was no way I wouldn’t finish it.
Started in Socorro and headed north to Santa Fe. Fought the wind whenever the road turned south and flew when it turned north. I didn’t have a single flat tire.
Randy Ford
