One of my favorite things about a group of tenacious and motivated individuals working toward a common goal is that there is no superiority complex. Every Texas 4000 for Cancer rider is pouring sweat, blood, and bike grease into each day of their summer.

Prime example is panhandling. For those unfamiliar with the “art”, panhandling is finding a busy street and walking it with large signs and collection buckets trying to pull heartstrings. In the Austin area especially, panhandling is almost completely monopolized. You spend hours in the sun and heat, sweating and praying that someone will give you spare change. People often berate you for coming anywhere near “their” corner and question your credibility, not to mention what Mother Nature has to say on any given day. Despite all of this, no one is above panhandling. If last year’s team was any indication everyone, from the president of Texas 4000 for Cancer to the webmaster, will pull a shift or two workin’ the streets.

I panhandled for the first time on a Friday during the lunch rush at the gem of an intersection known as 6th and Lamar in downtown Austin. In the shadow of Whole Foods, with homemade signs in- hand (double-sided with a message about our ride for when traffic is stopped and “Honk if You Hate Cancer” on the flip-side for when traffic is moving), we prepared for the onslaught. And I do mean ONSLAUGHT. The high traffic volume on Lamar causes the cross streets, such as 6th, to spend about 80% of the time at a standstill.

More often than you would expect, we will get a commuter who graciously gives $10 or $20. Some share heartfelt stories of loved ones who have fought cancer, while others donate and simply say, “Have a great trip!” From U-Hauls, to garbage trucks, to 18-wheelers, to the city bus (seriously!) we pull honks or contributions from some of the most unique rides. In fact, I’ve seen almost every type of wheeled vehicle donate to our panhandlers. Mopeds, bicycles, and even a few kind pedestrians have all given of themselves to help fight cancer (still eagerly awaiting my first donation from a unicyclist, though).

Panhandling is often less about “you never know who you will see” than it is about “you never know who will see you”. I’ve learned that working consecutive days is a good way to gain credibility and build relationships, evidenced through cheers, smiles, and even return donors. Even as far north as Avery Ranch I ran into kind people who recognized me from panhandling fame (wearing the jersey probably helped with recall, but still a small world).

I am not discouraging networking, corporate-matching donations, letter writing, wristband selling, or other fundraising methods. What I AM saying is that panhandling is a unique experience and a great part of the adventure that is Texas 4000 for Cancer.