Cross-country cyclist pedals back to Riverdale

Just days before his 61st birthday, Tom Durham fulfilled his childhood dream. 

The Riverdalian has aspired to cycle across the country since he was a student at DeWitt Clinton High School and saw pictures of Buffalo Soldiers biking through the Rocky Mountains with guns slung across their chests. 

He was impressed when he learned of how the first black cavalry units tested the practicality of using bicycles for military purposes in the 1890s.

“I asked myself – ‘Are we still as tough as them?’ They had no road, no wagon, just guns and ammunition,” he said of the soldiers, who American Indians called Buffalo Soldiers after the  animal revered for its ferocity. 

“I kept telling myself, ‘If these guys can survive this, I can push through.’”

Mr. Durham shipped his bike to a friend’s house in Ventura, Calif. and set off from the Pacific coast on June 4. He carried nothing but a 50-pound backpack, stopping to eat at restaurants and to sleep in hotels. About 2,850 miles and 12 flat tires later, Mr. Durham returned to Riverdale on June 27.

He began his journey travelling along Route 66, one of the nation’s first highways, but modified his route when his cousin, who was spotting him by driving at his side, got sick.

Mr. Durham skipped 80 miles to drive him from Brislow, Va. to a hospital in Baltimore. 

There were hardships from the beginning. Deplorable roads along with temperatures that rose to 120 degrees inspired Mr. Durham to post a video on his Facebook page joking that he might not make it out of the Mojave Desert. 

After all, Mr. Durham said birds sought out the shade of brush during daylight and he witnessed a truck’s rubber tire melt onto the pavement.

“It was so hot that at one point I ran across the road and took refuge in a Porta Potty in a construction site,” he said.

To the sun’s credit, Mr. Durham was able to charge his phone using a solar-powered device, he said.

Once he hit Albuquerque, Mr. Durham said he coasted down the mountains and into the Mississippi delta.

He was struck by how much road kill he saw in Arkansas – enough for him to quip that striking animals might be a local sport. 

Mr. Durham said he expected to shed pounds, but it was a struggle to maintain his weight because virtually every meal in the southern states was slathered in gravy or cheese.

He said several people had warned him people may be hostile, but everyone he encountered – from the two residents of Amboy, Calif. to the crowds of Washington D.C. — was  “unbelievably friendly.”

“They were surprised to see a black cyclist, or any cyclist, in 120 degree weather,” he said. “One woman did a U-turn and pulled over when I stopped.”

It was near the border of Tennessee and Virginia that Mr. Durham said he began to notice his cousin was very ill. He drove him to John Hopkins University Hospital and helped him recover at home, while logging daily 40-mile bike rides.

From Maryland on, Mr. Durham biked more leisurely and stopped at several beach towns in New Jersey.

The first thing he did after he crossed the Broadway bridge was peddle past 3875 Waldo Ave., where he has worked as a superintendent for nearly 25 years, and up to the Community Board 8 office to visit with former colleagues. Mr. Durham served on CB8 for six years, most recently as the Housing Committee chair.

“I was getting so many texts from them,” he said.

Growing up in Morrisania, Mr. Durham said learning to ride a bike gave him his first sense of independence and a chance to visit Coney Island and other far-flung attractions. But he often had to keep the rides a secret from his mother, who might have gotten nervous if she’d known how far he and his friends were biking.

“She said to me, ‘What do you want to do this summer?’ I said, ‘Bike across the country,’” he said, recalling a conversation he had when he was 12 and hadn’t conceptualized what a cross-country trip would involve.

 “’Yeah right,’ she said.”

At 16, he bought his first bike for $190.10. He still rides the blue bike from 1969 around his old neighborhood.

Mr. Durham said he stopped cycling and spent more time playing basketball as an adult. 

When his doctor told him his knees were beginning to wear out, he got back up on his bike seat and retuned to regular riding in the 1980s. After knee “tune-ups” in the late 90s, he began cycling more seriously, participating in bike-a-thons and fundraisers. 

Now that he’s knocked the cross-country trip off his bucket list, Mr. Durham says he’s not sure what’s next.

“Maybe ride straight down to the Keys,” he said.