My name is John Carter, and I’ve been touring by bicycle since 1988.
That’s the year I bought my first Cannondale road bike — a moment that changed the course of my life. But to appreciate how much it meant, you have to understand what came before it.
Just two months earlier, I attempted the Rosarito to Ensenada ride on an old, heavy mountain bike. That thing weighed 42 pounds and rolled like a tank. The ride was 50 miles long, and it took me 6 hours and 23 minutes to finish. By the end, I was completely wiped out. I swore up and down I would never get on a bike again.
Then a friend gave me some advice that stuck: “You need a real road bike — something lighter, faster, and easier on your legs.” At the time, most of my friends were cyclists, so I figured I’d give it one more try. I bought that Cannondale, clipped in, and rode.
I’ve been riding ever since.
What I discovered wasn’t just a mode of transportation — it was a doorway into a whole new way of experiencing the world. Bicycle touring opened my eyes to things I’d never noticed before. When you’re on a bike, you don’t just pass through a place — you feel it. You hear the birds, smell the fresh-cut grass, and notice the small details — a crumbling barn, an old road sign, a historical marker that tells a forgotten story.
And those markers? They’re goldmines of history. People whiz by them in cars and never know what they’re missing. But I stop. I read. I learn. It’s like opening a window into the past, one mile at a time.
Then there are the people. I’ve met some of the kindest, most generous souls in roadside diners, campgrounds, and quiet little towns. There’s something about the rhythm of touring that invites connection. Fellow cyclists share gear tips, repair tools, and stories from the road. Strangers become friends over a cup of coffee or a shared patch kit.
I’ve cycled the Pacific Coast from Canada to San Diego, and rolled through the natural wonders of Utah — Bryce Canyon, Zion, and Arches National Parks. Every trip is different, but they all share one thing: a feeling of freedom. No traffic jams. No packed schedules. Just the open road and a few simple choices: Should I turn left or right? Stop for a bite or keep going? Camp under the stars or grab a cheap motel?
Touring by bike strips life down to what matters. You move at a human pace. You carry only what you need. And in doing so, you gain something most people spend a lifetime chasing — peace of mind.
Enjoy the journey. Life is slower, richer, and more beautiful on two wheels.
