The Pedalin’ Prof
And HateBusters Founder
William Jewell College
Teaching People How To Like People
Box 442 Liberty, MO 64069 816-803-8371 email@example.com
Maps and money get in my way. Maps tell me where to go. Money buys what I need. Together they take from me any compelling reason I would otherwise have to talk to people, thereby depriving me of a primary reason I ride.
To meet every person I can and expect to like every person I meet! This has long been a major purpose of my life. That’s why I got on my bicycle that May Monday morning in Orlando, intending to pedal northwest to Seattle, then south to Anaheim. That’s why I planned to ride alone. With no money. No map. And no cell phone. One-hundred-five days it would take. I would explain myself to more than 500 people. One to one. Face to face. Together we would ignite that spark of goodness and genius that flickers inside each of us.
That was my plan. Now I have another. Not to such distant places this time. All right here in a place I call Greater Liberty. I live in a town called Liberty, and 125 miles is about how far I can ride on a good day. So I drew a 125-mile circle around my town, going north to Creston, Iowa and south to Carthage, Missouri; west to Manhattan, Kansas and east to Columbia, Missouri, including parts of four states—Missouri, Kansas, Iowa and Nebraska—and 104 county seats towns.
Over the next months and years I will visit each of these county seat towns. I will drive to each town in my bright red PT Cruiser, license plate—H8BSTR—and take my bicycle from behind the seat. I will go for a ride around town, greeting everyone I see and looking for what appears to be the favorite local eating place.
My bright red bicycle is lettered in white. Across the top tube on either side is my name in cursive: Ed Chasteen. Down the right side of the down tube: The Pedalin’ Prof. Down the left side: From William Jewell College. Down both sides of the seat tube: HATEBUSTERS.
In every season and all weather, I ride to breakfast or lunch in a town some 15 to 25 miles away, to places I call my Inner Sanctum Cafes. These locally owned homes of comfort food are the heart and soul of their towns, drawing hometown folks whose hunger is more than physical. As mine is.
In each Greater Liberty county seat town, I will park my bike in front of the place that appears to be a possible addition to my Inner Sanctum Cafes. If I find biscuits and gravy and sweet ice tea on the menu and someone to talk to about the town, this good place will join with the other good places whose praises I sing. Should the menu offer other biker-friendly options instead, but still with someone to befriend a passing biker, this place will become one of my Inner Sanctum Cafes.
Should you, dear reader, wish to nominate a Greater Liberty Inner Sanctum Café in your town, email the name to me. And maybe we could dine there at a time of our mutual convenience.
My Life on a Bicycle tells stories from my 130,000 miles aboard my bike. I wrote this E-book as a gift to all the folks I have met, and will meet. I will email a copy FREE OF CHARGE to everyone who asks. Just email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and say, “Send me the book.”
This book tells the story of my Orlando to Seattle to Anaheim ride. Greater Liberty rides. Rides in China. New Zealand. And more.
Greater Liberty is a place. Visit www.greaterliberty.org for a map. Greater Liberty is also a principle: We all have Greater Liberty than we know to live above and beyond all the limitations of mind, body and soul that other people ascribe to us and we too easily assume.
I was told 32 years ago that I would soon be an invalid. On my bicycle, I discovered Greater Liberty.