Today was one of those days that makes you wonder why everyone isn’t out here riding across the country. We rolled out in a perfect 63 degrees, wrapped things up at a toasty‑but‑friendly 81, and spent the day on actual rollers — those rare hills that return most of what they borrow. We even had a few tailwinds, the kind that make you feel like the day is giving you a friendly nudge.

Eighty‑three miles later, we crossed into Mississippi, our sixth state of the trip.

Naturally, this triggered several rounds of “WE ARE RIDING OUR BIKES ACROSS THE COUNTRY!!” followed by fist bumps that would make a 90s sports movie proud. The amazement hasn’t worn off. The gratitude hasn’t either.

Since today’s ride was smooth, beautiful, and relatively drama‑free, I figured it was the perfect day to talk about the techy side of riding bikes across the country. Yes, the dry stuff. But honestly, the dry stuff is half the fun — and occasionally half the comedy.

Headlamp — The Flashy Overachiever

We don’t ride in the dark, so this little guy’s job is simple: be seen, not see. It sits on the front of the bike, flashes like it’s trying to get into a nightclub, and runs on a rechargeable battery that absolutely must last all day on the 100‑mile slogs.

Mine also doubles as a power bank, which means it spends lunch break recharging my Bluetooth speaker. Because losing music mid‑ride? That’s a morale hit no cyclist should endure. Silence is not motivational. Silence is betrayal.

Tail Light Radar — The Overly Dramatic Friend

This thing is part taillight, part radar, part overprotective parent. It flashes, it warns us about cars, and it even changes its flash pattern when we brake — which feels very fancy for two guys who still high‑five every time we see a state line sign.

The radar also detects objects moving at our speed, which means when I pull ahead, my screen lights up with a warning we’ve named “Dangerous John.” According to the radar, John is a fast‑approaching vehicle of doom. According to reality, he is just… John. Not dangerous. Not even mildly threatening. Just riding.

We often ride two‑abreast on quiet roads, and between the radar and our mirrors, we can slide into single file long before a car reaches us. It’s teamwork, but with gadgets.

Head Unit — The Bossy Little Brain

This is the tiny computer that runs our lives. It tells us where to go, how fast we’re going, when lunch is, and whether we’ve missed a turn because we were too busy admiring a cow.

It also displays radar alerts, beeps at us for reasons we don’t always understand, and syncs with our phones so we can see texts like:

• “How’s the ride”
• “Are you alive”
• “Why are you doing this”

At the end of the day, it uploads everything to Strava, which is basically Facebook for cyclists — but with more graphs and fewer political arguments.

Bluetooth Speakers — The Rolling Party

This started with John’s JBL Clip 4. I liked it so much he surprised me with the new Clip 5. Then I discovered the Clip 5s can link together, so naturally I bought John one too. Now we have a two‑speaker synchronized sound system rolling across America.

John is the DJ. I am the hype man. Together, we have five playlists that escalate in intensity as the day goes on. By the final miles, we’re basically our own mobile block party.

This is no longer optional equipment. This is essential touring gear.

Could You Do This Trip Without Tech

Absolutely. People have been crossing the country on bikes long before Bluetooth existed.

But these gadgets make the ride safer, smoother, and a whole lot more fun. Even when they’re annoying, even when they beep for no reason, even when they insist John is a speeding SUV, we’re grateful for them.

Just like we’re grateful for every mile, every tailwind, every roller, every state line, and every moment we get to shout, “We are riding our bikes across the country!!”

Because we really are. And it still feels unbelievable.