This is my last blog for 2024, so I thought I’d share an amusing story about my near death in a blizzard on a bicycle.
This is because nobody wants to read serious blogs this time of year; because I just like to tell the story; and because it relates very nicely to what many of us have gone through over the last few years.
I was riding my bicycle across the country when I was 22.
It was early May, and the weather was very nice in Southern Colorado when I came upon the 8,000-foot-high Raton Pass on the New Mexico border.
I knew it would be colder at the top of the pass, but I figured I could just stay warm by pedaling really hard. The only clothes I had were a pair of shorts, a thread-bare cut-off t-shirt, and a very thin windbreaker – so I had already had to stay warm by pedaling hard through other passes, and I thought I was bulletproof.
Turns out I wasn’t.
Just pedaling to the top of the pass was exhausting, but when I got there, a massive blizzard seemed to roll in out of nowhere.
The temperature was suddenly far below freezing, the entire world grew dark, and snow enveloped the horizon like a giant white curtain.
Before I knew it, I was pedaling through 18 inches of snow, my bicycle stopped working, and hypothermia was setting in – so every movement felt like a 500 lb. deadlift.
Making matters worse was the complete absence of vehicles on the road, as it became apparent that non-22-year-olds in cars check the weather before ascending mountain passes.
I definitely felt like giving up, as I was literally freezing, and I could hardly move – but I kept trudging, nonetheless.
After about 30 minutes though, when I thought my end was near, I could see a huge 18-wheeler coming towards me very slowly. So, you can imagine my sense of relief.
The truck was only going about 10 to 15 miles per hour because of the conditions, so I stood on the road to make sure the driver saw me and stopped.
To my shock and surprise though, he tried to wave me off the road. I forced him to stop by not moving though, as the alternative to getting run over was not much better.
I then opened his cab door and said, “I need a ride because I am going to freeze to death.”
The truck driver then said: “I don’t pick up hitchhikers.”
I responded, “You do now…” and I threw my bike behind his cab and climbed in – and this is where the story gets good.
After climbing in, and after the truck driver was going to leave me on the road to freeze to death, he said: “I need you to put on your seat belt because I am concerned about your safety.”
I stared at him in disbelief but complied still as I was too cold to do anything else (I still remember not being able to work the buckle because my hands were so frozen).
It gets better though.
After I put my seatbelt on, the truck driver pulled out a small wooden box with a pipe and pile of weed and proceeded to just get absolutely baked.
He offered me some too, but I declined because I was not a weed guy, and because I was so cold and terrified, watching a completely stoned truck driver careen through a blizzard in an 18-wheeler that was literally sliding down a mountain.
But after a while, I got too scared and said I would like to partake after all, hoping to quell my fears – at which point I got even more baked than the truck driver.
The weed was likely laced with something, and I remember nothing after that point.
What I do remember though is waking up in a youth hostel in Albuquerque, NM, the next morning, right next to a gorgeous river trail on a beautiful sunny day.
And even better, my bicycle and all of my belongings were next to me.
Apparently, the truck driver somehow got me to the youth hostel and into my room – but I never did figure out exactly what happened.
I was, however, delighted that I did not give up on the top of the mountain (despite coming close); that I got so lucky; and that I woke up in what seemed like paradise.
I learned much from that experience too – including this: that 22-year-olds actually do have limits and that I should never give up no matter how bleak things seem.
2024 = Slowest Year Ever!
I share this story for everyone who has struggled over the last year – in light of the fact that 2024 was likely the slowest year on record when it comes to real estate sales – relative to population – as illuminated in this Kobeissi Letter post.
1995 actually saw fewer transactions than 2024, but the U.S. population was only 266 million then, while it is closer to 342 million today. So yes, relatively speaking, this is the slowest market ever.
So – for those of you doing well, congratulations! That is truly something to be proud of.
And for everyone else who is still fighting the fight – hang in there!
You never know when a very odd and drug-addled truck driver will come out of nowhere to make everything much better.
Happy New Year!
