Our story so far:

Oh, To Be Young and Go Very, Very Fast

It was 5:30 a. m. in Pocatello, Idaho, a thin sheet of icy rain masked sunrise, and I wasn't quite sure I was up for my latest bicycling adventure. Coasting through the nearly deserted streets of this small Western town, I found myself poised at a stoplight. An ingrained obedience to traffic laws coupled with a sleepy hangover from the long train ride kept me anchored in place though there wasn't a car in sight.

As I waited, an old rancher ambled up to the intersection. The fur collar on his long coat was tattered, crusted with tobacco stains, and faded. As his cane tapped its way over my bike, I noticed for the first time that he was blind. One eye drooped shut like that of a tomcat that had seen too many late-night brawls, while the other, still open, was cloudy and distant. That eye reminded me of an African tribesman seen in the pages of National Geographic who suffered from river blindness.

The old rancher continued to work his cane over me, tapping as he went. And though the light changed from red to green several times, I remained frozen, allowing this slow survey of my person. The moment felt intimate and awkward, but I did not break it. When he was done, the old rancher stood back, grinned through a ruin of teeth, and said, "Ah, metal cowboy."

I was dumbfounded and surprised; first, that he had spoken at all, and more importantly, that this battered husk of man had hit upon a perfect description of me at the time, and my story. Though I looked more like a surfer, or a guy on a fool's journey, to him I felt like a metal cowboy, the bike my horse, and the asphalt my trail. "Keep the wind at your back, and find where the innocent sleep," he added. Then, without fanfare, my rancher crossed the street and dissolved into the early morning mist.

A chill passed through me. I have thought about that old man many times during my travels. He was right about the wind, and as for locating where the innocent sleep, I want to believe he meant to look for the best in people along the road, and that's what you will often find. My bicycle has also brought me to the innocence and the best in myself. Collective

These 40 "Tales From the Road Less Pedaled" do not follow chronological order. Instead they jump around - from childhood sailing trips to crossing the Rocky mountainsto spending a season on the isalnd of Aruba - and focus more on developing a conversational yet intimate manner with the reader.

Most of the stories feature a quirky man or woman, somehoe alienated by society, who is living life on their own terms, determined to follow their heart. Either they live ina small town and share an experience with Kurmaskie, or they spend a few hours or days cycling with him. Elvis impersonators, a double lower leg amputee, a flamboyant Italian barber, overprotective geese, and a bomb-builder turned zealous rockhound are merely a sampling of the characters Kumaskie meets on the road.

However, Kurmaskie doesn't rely on extremes to keep his book engaging. He deftly tackles difficult subjects, too, and displays a remarkable aptitude for compassion and contemplation. For example, in "Doing the Hokey-Pokey," Ranada O'Ryan, a high-school drop-out turned factory worker takes Kurmaskie to her senior prom and he graciously plays the part of adoring boyfriend. He connects with parents who have lost their children to accidents or disease, assists a man suffering from AIDS, and struggles to make peace with both loggers and environmentalists.

Overall, he understands many readers crave a vicarious experience, one that satidfies their sense of adventure and enhances their understanding of people. His stories are full of optimism, zaniness and insight, a winning combination that will take readers on a delightful ride.

I am a bicyclist who has done some touring, so there were a lot of reasons why I really wanted to like this book. But there is so much hokiness, bragging, and pseudo-philosophizing in these stories that I could only read it in small doses.

Kurmaskie has talent as a writer. I guess it seemed to me that instead of being content with his small stories he tried to make them big, huge, epic, deep. But he overinflated his mental tube. The result- a blowout at 30mph. He overreaches so much he sounds silly instead of profound.

I recomend this for anyone with interest in the things that make us human.

Thanks Joe for the wonderful yarns!

"Metal Cowboy: Tales from the road less pedaled." is a collection of essays that span the better part of a decade, yet they are timeless. You see, Joe writes not about Le Tour, or traveling through exotic places you'll never see or how to be the best bike rider ever, Joe writes about life. It just so happens that these essays, life experiences really, have a one common point - Joe and his bike.

The stories are each unique and bring to light the spectrum of life, often humor sometimes meloncholy but always entertaining. Joe's writing style is fluid and personable. Getting lost in the book for a couple of hours very easy to do.

Individual readers will have their favorites. I would say "Oh to be Young and Go Very, Very Fast," "Doing the Hokey Pokey," and "Big Air" are mine. The truth is, every reader will find selections that strike a chord. To me, a "good book" is that which we can all agree is better than most published. A "great read" is a book that connects with individual readers on a personal level. "Metal Cowboy: tales from the road less pedaled" is that "great read." This isn't just a good book about cycling, it's good book about life! Enjoy it.

The author appears to be a magazine and newspaper columnist, and this shows in the book, which is a collection of short (mostly unrelated) stories. The stories are well written, succinct, humorous, and broken into easily digestible chunks. The unifying thread is really the quest to explore the world "out there", and the author succeeds in instilling a fire in your belly to go out and see what's out there. If you go, it will be cool.

As a fan of all things two-wheeled and man-powered, this book re-iterates why riding a bike is so much fun. Furthermore, Kurmaskie provides living proof that people can be truly good at heart.

Each turn of the page is full of spectacular prose, providing anyone with the spark to load down a bike with gear, hit the blacktop and discover the road-less-pedaled.

Books on travel can sometimes be too preachy or too operation oriented, but not Mr. Kurmaskie. His writing is very much about the journey, the experiences and people along the way. You don't take a trip when you read his book; you are along for the ride itself. Good stuff.

His vignettes range from the personal acceptance of his persona via a blind southern sage to finding where he belongs in the world, and everything in between, all with a unique perspective that can only be found by someone who has actually lived life.

Don't worry if you don't ride a bike, this isn't THAT kind of book. The bike is a facilitator for the journey that unfolds, you don't have to understand the pain and pleasure that people find in pushing pedals. It simply is a vehicle that transports him from one spot to another, putting him in places for things and interactions to happen.

Buy it, you won't regret it.