“We are all the
same in the fact that we will never be the same.” C. JoyBell C.
It was a chance encounter in the early 1980’s that set into
motion the idea of a bicycle trip across the United States. Glancing over at the park that lay just
across the street from our home is where I first saw Clifford Barrett Peaugh straddling
a loaded bicycle looking a bit lost and certainly exhausted. Given our location and the draw to this park,
my young family and I were used to seeing just about everything. Clifford stood apart from the norm. With garlands of sweat and road dust, dressed
in riding clothes he nonetheless displayed an air of elder nobility. “Looks like you could use a cold drink.” “I certainly can!” was his reply. “Is overnight camping allowed in this
park?” “Unfortunately, it is not.” “Where are you headed?” “Boston.”
“Hummm... you have a long way to go…”
“Where did you start?” “Great
Britain…but biking since San Francisco.”
This represented a distance of more than 300 miles. As chance encounters sometimes play out, he
did come in for that cold drink, enchanted us with his charm, and ended up
spending the night. His story was unique;
as a WWII British Paratrooper, Clifford had been severely wounded and told that
he would never walk again. His “plucky” wife,
having none of this, came to his aid, forced him into a wheelchair, then a
walker, and ultimately onto a bicycle.
The latter built up his legs to the point that he was ultimately able to
walk again and through this process he developed a love for bicycling. With this union of bicycle and man, he proceeded
peddling across Great Britain, followed by Europe, Australia and ultimately to
this trek across the U.S. Given a second
chance at life, he chose to live it to the fullest and “give back” as his
talents dictated. His was a life of a “School
Master” and his bicycling to Boston was to be a reunion with friends. Upon retirement, he chose this trip as fitting
way to begin this new phase in his life.
Captivated by such an ambitious endeavor, we prevailed upon Clifford to
carry a picture of our family on his journey so that we could, in some small
way, live it through him. This he did,
sending postcards all along the route. In his last letter he wrote “We were
successful and you journeyed with me throughout my entire route to Boston and
have even made it to Great Britain where your photo now resides upon my
mantel.” Clifford Barrett Peaugh, here
or with your maker, I salute you and all my fellow soldiers who picked up their
lives after war, reconciled as best they could, and marched into whatever the future held in
store for them.
SSG Stephan E. Speer, U.S. Army, Vietnam
1969-1970
