September 23, 2006 :*(

The date was September 23, 2006. It was 3:39 p.m., and I was leaving the last place my best friend called home. Portland, Oregon. Paradise for many. It was a spectacular - sun filled day in Portland. With its lush, deep greenery, Portland reminded me a lot of Pennsylvania. Large meandering rivers and dense forests of trees everywhere that I could see from my tiny window at 38,000 feet. Stellar bridges and ultra cool infrastructure packed my memory for the two days I spent saying good-bye to my best friend.....Michael Allen Kalan. April 24, 1971 ~ September 15, 2006.

It was a good Saturday - better than the last. Which is when I got a call from Mikes cell, and it was his wonderful wife Wendy. Initially, I was excited because I thought Mike was calling to chat since we only texted each other earlier in the week. But instantly I knew something was really, really wrong when it was Wendy on the phone and not Mike. It was after that Wendy told me Mike was in a crash with an SUV while on his bike Friday, and that he had died on impact. WOW! WOW! So far September 16, 2006 has been the worst day of my life. What a sad day.

The last time I talked to Mike was on Tuesday September 12 around 5:40 p.m. Mike was in Atlanta and we exchanged a few text messages. I think the last time I heard Mike's voice was on August 19th when he called me while driving home after getting his hair cut. Of course he called me while the wind was in his hair and he had the top off of the Jeep. I told him to call me back when he got home since it sounded like he had the Jeep in a wind tunnel. Many of the times Mike would call he always had the top off the Jeep - and I could barely make out what he was saying. Perhaps my hearing impediment is from all of those days in high school we spent in his parents basement cranking up music so loud it made our eardrums bleed. Great times!! Now that I look back on it....Mike always enjoyed having the wind in his hair. = )

I still can't believe it happened. And I guess I don't want to believe it. When I see Mike's name in my cell phone it's hard to tell myself I can't call him because he won't answer. NEVER. Today I called Mike's cell phone several times to hear his voice say "Mike Kalan" on the voice mail recording. I know it's crazy, but a little therapeutic. I hope Wendy understands if she sees all the missed calls. I hope I can call it a few more times before his service gets cancelled. *Press "play" or "pause" on the players below to start/stop the music or voicemail recording. The voicemail recording player will be updated when I can find a better player.

The first time I met Mike was while riding mountain bikes at Cherry Creek reservoir in Denver. I was cruising along a dirt trail on my new Giant Iguana mountain bike in 1988 or 1989 and Mike passed me on his red, white, and blue Schwinn K.O.M. mountain bike. K.O.M. = "King of the Mountain." So he rode by and I decided to tag along with him. He was riding swiftly, but I was able to keep up eventhough I had just started getting into cycling. We were both in high school at Cherry Creek at the time, and had some of the same physics/engineering classes. It's amazing how vivid my first memory of riding with Mike is to me now.

Mikey I miss you!