Tricycle … leave no trace


About trike hobo

Steve Greene is a naturalist, philosopher, and teller of tales. He pursues absolute truth in all things, modifying his existence as supported by legitimate evidence. His ideological foundation rests on the respect of life, as he follows a path of health, serenity, and maximum functional longevity. He has authored eleven books, and is a noted authority on Death Valley National Park, human powered recumbent cycle touring, fitness and longevity, and professional law enforcement. Steve has not owned a petroleum powered automobile since 2008, as part of his environmental preservation paradigm. He eats an organic vegan diet, exercises regularly, and enjoys exploring the wilderness. Harmony with nature tops his priorities. To learn more about Steve, please visit:
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3 Responses to Tricycle … leave no trace

  1. Ed Wade says:

    I also go with the American Indian belief. “No ONE should ever know you were there”…

  2. trike hobo says:

    Right-on Ed … Leave no Trace. That’s the beauty of trikes. We pass silently and cleanly through the realm, no one any the wiser. We are trike phantoms!

    A phantom is something that exists, yet has no physical reality, an apparition, a silent vision that may have been there, then maybe not. Evidence is far from conclusive. No definitive understanding can be reached. What was that experience? It appeared momentarily, then vanished as quietly as it arrived. There was no point of reference, as no existential memories held anything resembling it. Was it but an imagined phantom, a temporal vision of the mind, leaving no trace of its arrival, being, or departure?

    Adventurers silently roaming the realm on human powered recumbent transports defy understanding of the multitude. They are mavericks, rogues transporting themselves in a manner that leaves the environment at peace, with no disruption of the serene powers of life. Trike pilots gracefully move along the edge of reality and road in a parallel universe to that of the petroleum driven human, and absent direct visual contact with such an adventurous pilot, evidence of his passing quickly vaporizes. The vision vanishes without a sound.

    Trike phantoms gracefully glide into campgrounds with no heralding of their arrival, no annoying diesel auditory clues, and no toxic particulates spread across the land of tents. They require little space, few resources, and blend harmoniously into the feral landscape. Next morn, these nomadic adventurers silently depart, their former camp space clean and quiet, conventional travelers wondering when they left, or even if they had been there at all.

  3. I can’t wait to get back to camping.

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