COMMUNITY FEATURE me differently,” he said. “But I try not to be anywhere long enough to be a bother.” He accepts donations on the road but prefers to work when he needs money. According to Adams, he’s handy and used to do maintenance for a carnival before he began his bike tour. We spoke briefly on the shoulder as semis roared past inches away. I didn’t want to risk our safety, so I let him keep moving. I hoped we’d reconnect in Fort Collins for a longer conversation. I wanted to write more about a man who finds purpose in a never-ending bike tour. Adams doesn’t carry a phone, so I scribbled my contact information on a scrap of paper. We agreed he’d call when he arrived in town. Months later my phone rang. He spoke quickly, and I didn’t record the conversation. I only remember him saying he hadn’t stayed in Fort Collins long. The road is where he feels at home. I received a few more calls from Adams after that. Each time, he talked about his dad, his brother, and building his camper. But I haven’t heard from him in a long time. I search for him online now and then. I’ve seen news stories about him in Iowa, New York, and Missouri. Adams is like many people I document on the street: I meet them, hear their stories, and care deeply about them. I want others to understand what they’re going through. But often, I only get one chance. The realities of living a nontraditional life, whether by choice or circumstance, also make it hard to keep in touch with others. So I just hope the people I meet are doing OK. TONY ADAMS IS EAGER TO SHARE HIS STORY. HE PULLED FROM HIS TRAILER A STACK OF OLD NEWSPAPERS FROM BOTH LARGE AND SMALL OUTLETS THAT HAD WRITTEN ABOUT HIM. June 2025 DENVER VOICE 11
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