Trans Con

One of my fantasies, and trust me there have been many, has been to ride my bicycle across the United States. In biking jargon such a journey is called a Trans Con which is short for a Transcontinental Bike Ride. Therefore, about ten plus years ago I wrote a screenplay based on that simple premise.

I based my screenplay on a number of books I had read from individuals who had the grit, determination and energy to do just such a bike ride. Then there was my own personal experience of doing the TRAM (The Ride Across Minnesota) two years in a row. Those cycling books and my own experiences inspired me to write the movie.  I thought if I can’t do it myself, perhaps the next best thing would be to write a story about just such a life-changing journey.

TRAM, the ride across Minnesota, is a week-long event held every year in July. When I did it back in 2004 and 2005, riders started on the border of South Dakota. After acclimating to our first night sleeping in a tent on hard ground and a port-a-potty half a block away, we were off and biking. The first day was usually a leisurely ride of fifty or so miles. There were lunch breaks along the way and no time schedule to adhere to. It meant riding, sight-seeing, visiting among various other groups and solitary time thinking about our sore backs, weak knees and the keg at the end of the day. We all adjusted to the routine quickly.

Then for the next seven days, we would average sixty to seventy-five miles per day crossing the state. We quickly got used to sleeping in our tents at night, riding in all kinds of weather; rain and wind and blistering sun. We sometimes drank ourselves silly at night in some small town bar overrun with dirty, thirsty bikers and were up the next day before dawn to do all over again.

Brian rode with me on the second ride, building up memories we both share to this day. Ah, but I was a younger man back then. Time changes a lot of things including my ability to do such a ride again.

Now it seems even the title of my screenplay has been corrupted by time.

In our ever-changing world of swirling, conflicting, and always-evolving social and cultural norms - there now exists a precedent that I will probably have to change the title of my movie. Recently, my editor pointed out that in today’s PC-laced world of ‘let’s not offend anyone, anywhere, anyhow, ‘Trans Con’ would probably be translated into ‘transgender convention’ just like Comic Con, etc. As open-minded as I see myself, that would probably be more than a little misleading for my intended audience.

So the title has been changed from ‘Trans Con’ to ‘Transcontinental.’  Now I’m pondering my next step in the chain of events that must take place in order for my script to come to life. One step is to actively market it and seek producers who might share my own vision of this story.

Making a feature film is a daunting task. Even without major investors, a production crew and actors who can carry their weight, producing movies is a time consuming and challenging task. Even more so for a novice such as myself.

Over the last twenty plus years, with the of advent of digital technologies, there have been many new avenues that have opened up to hundreds if not thousands of wanna-be film makers who now have the tools and knowledge to put a basic film together. While the charm and appeal of independent film-making hasn’t waned over the years, film distribution channels have been changing on almost a monthly basis.

Film festivals were once the gateway to acknowledgement of a job well done and possibly some kind of distribution deal. There was always the ever-hopeful wish for Hollywood’s possible notice. That is no longer true. Sundance has gone Hollywood and the proliferation of film festivals across the country and the world has diluted the impact that any one film festival might have on the successful introduction of a new film.

Nevertheless, filmmakers around the world persist in trying to make their films and distribute them. For me, it’s more than simply a long shot. There are other plays and novels screaming for my attention. My marketing efforts are sorely lacking and need a kick in the pants. Then there is the time and effort necessary to get such a project off the ground. In fact, it might be easier to just jump on a bike and do the ride myself.

For now, I’ll probably put off this particular project in lieu of several plays that show more immediate promise. Or take a long bike just to clear my mind…in hopes of meeting a Hollywood producer along the way.

My First Affair

 I’ve been carrying on this love affair most of my life. Well, at least starting in grade school. She was a true blue-blood American. No surprise there since my world didn’t really exist beyond the boundaries of my Saint Paul neighborhood. I think we were first introduced on my eighth birthday

Unfortunately, she was rather large and chunky. She even had a funny name. Our affair lasted until eighth grade when other forms of distractions took my mind away from such childish behavior. There wasn’t a lot of emotion attached to her so I wasn’t really sorry to see her go.

My second affair began when I was about twenty-one. By then I was old enough to know better but still brazen enough to think I could handle another love. I did much better this second time around. She was so different from my first. She was French. She was lean and light and moved like a gazelle. She had a very strong and powerful presence about her. I could pronounce her name even if I couldn’t spell it. This second time around, I was truly smitten and real emotion was involved.

That second affair has lasted a lifetime. Granted, my partners have changed over the years but the sheer joy of the act never gets old…even at my age.

My first affair was with a Huffy. The name was so appropriate because without constant practice riding her was just an exercise in huffing and buffing your way up and down the hills. It was more like maneuvering a pachyderm without the elevation. Besides, I always thought she had a sissy name. The cool kids all rode Schwinn’s. Who wants to ride a bicycle named Huffy even in third grade? Melted down today, there would probably be enough heavy metal in her to build a light cruiser.

My second beauty was named Peugeot. A French racing bike that lived up to its reputation in the Tour De France and other international bicycle racing events. Not that I ever got to that level. But it did take me on my first century and my second Tram. The first was a hundred mile bike ride in one day. The second was ‘balls to the walls’ ‘hauling derriere’ across the state of Minnesota and loving every hilly mile of it. My son and I covered over 500 miles in less than six days.

 

At one time, I had a respectable stable of bicycles. I had two road bikes, a mountain bike and a hybrid/city bike plus a couple more bikes in Palm Springs. But one of my racing bikes eloped, went to Denver and never came back. Now my son has his own love affair going on with bicycles. 

But I’ve still got my old Peugeot, a mountain bike and my old reliable hybrid/city bike. And, of course, a city bike in Palm Springs equipped with saddle bags for grocery shopping and garage-sailing, as well as long distance rides

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But road bikes aren’t the only game in town. My hybrid or city bike has taken me on long trips riding the length and breadth of Palm Springs and the Coachella Valley. It’s taken me on long rides throughout Minneapolis and Saint Paul, discovering parts of the city I never knew existed other than from glimpses on the freeway overpass.

My city rides are always the most fun. They usually begin on Summit Avenue very early on a Saturday morning. The first stop is coffee and breakfast at a coffee shop in the Longfellow neighborhood of South Minneapolis. Then it’s off to see the world for at least that Saturday morning.

I used to find inner peace and tranquility on my long distance runs. Once on the road, I was oblivious to my surroundings and awash with thoughts that flowed easily in and out of my mind. It was all about getting lost mentally and often physically and not really caring. 

 

My bike rides now perform the same function. They have become a total disengagement from my so-called real world and have taken me into a state of just being at one with nature. Some would argue that melancholy is incompatible with cycling. It is a kind of meditation on wheels. It’s a free flowing form of yoga that keeps my surroundings swirling in my peripheral vision and yet allows me to be unaware of it at the same time.

 

It is tapping into the spiritual side of my being which, in turn, opens a floodgate of thoughts and ideas and visions. This avalanche of images is often captured by my tape recorder and ends up as treatment ideas, dialogue, scenes and story content. It is a magical, mystical wondrous experience that never ceases to amaze me with its power.

Apparently I’m not alone in my love affair with biking and other activities bicycle-related.  I always go to two web sites on bicycles with my early morning coffee. The first is called Momentum. It’s a web site that focuses on bicycles as transportation.

The second is called Cycle Chic from Danmark. Many experts agree that it really was the catalyst for the whole bicycle movement that is now growing by leaps and bounds in most cities.  The site focuses on bicycles as a fashion statement among other things.

There are a plethora of other sites that cover bicycle-related items

                                               

                                                            Velojoy

                                                            NYTimes article: End of the car culture

This life-long interest in biking has spilled over into my writing. My first screenplay, now in its second revision stage, is called Trans Con.  It involves two individuals caught up at crisis points in their lives while they are in the middle of nowhere, America, crossing the country on their bicycles. I’m looking for a producer to help me produce the movie.

All five of my grandchildren are riding bikes. Charlotte was the last to learn but with her prodigious appetite for besting the others, I expect she will be sprinting ahead of the pack in no time at all.

I may eventually end up in some sag wagon following behind the gang of five as they fade into the distance. But that’s alright.

Seeing them in the midst of their own love affair will bring joy to my heart…as it has for all these many years.