Richard Treks: BALM: Week 4 Day 4

This morningn we found a sign near our campsite warning of the use of DEADLY FORCE to protect a nearby nuclear power plant. Don't you think that the humming of that plant all night probably harmed us and other nearby campers? That the plant was more of a threat to us than we were to it? What would those authorized users of deadly force do to an army of campers marching through the woods to demand the closing of the atom splitting radiation making reactors? Probably shoot us.

Several years ago I was biking from Kansas City to St. Louis. I had stopped on HWY J in the western part of Missouri to take some pictures. Almost immediately, a certified badge carrying federal security officer stopped me, demanding that I identify myself and show him the pictures I took. Evidently, my photographic moment had been near a high security ammunition site on HWY J NEAR INDEPENDENCE MISSOURI, and I was a potential terrorist. He sat in his car with my wallet and phone, punching numbers I suppose in his computer, doing a background check on me, checking federal and state terrorists databases, and I was clean! He didn't seem pleased.

I'm not an activist, I keep my politics private. I'm not an evangelist, religion is personal. I'm not a fighter. The one fight I ever had was with my older brother. I was beating his butt when mother pulled me off of him. All of my other fights, well, my older brother fought for me. I'm not violent. I prefer peace.

But on my biking tours I carry a hammer. It started out just as a stake hammer. For some reason I started fitting the hammer between the tent compartment of a rear bag and the bag itself. Velcro holds the tent to the bag, so the hammer fits nicely in that in-between space. By accident it became a tool for potential self defense.

Last summer I was biking from Mission, South Dakota, to St. Louis. It was the hottest part of the summer. Record heat everywhere. 101° on my bike in Nebraska. Toward the end of a long day I was stopped at a red light in a small town. A truck pulled up beside me, and the dude on the passenger side said, "Get on the sidewalk, fucker." Instinctively, I reached behind me and pulled out my hammer. The dude looked shocked, and the truck peeled away on the green light.

And so the hammer became my power for driving stakes, when need be, and for protecting me, when need be. Not that I've ever had to use it. I keep it in my tent at night. I think, if some bizarre threatening maniac comes sneaking in my tent, I can wield the hammer and the sucker will flee. I think I can use it to beat away raccoons and bears. I think a crazy who pulls up beside me will see the hammer, think twice, and skedaddle. The problem is that the hammer is on the right rear side of my bike.

Peace be with you.

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