Here We Are Tour Diary: Pittsburgh

Yinz with me?

Rising to the rustling of campers packing their vehicles, I slide open the passenger-side door, swing my legs out, and slip on my Rothy’s (no product placement here, but that’d be nice).

Suddenly, the windows begin descending. “No, no, no, what the fuck?!?,” I whine out. Did I leave the door open too long? Did I press something on the car key by accident when I sat down? Ugh…doesn’t matter now..the final instructions Sam gave me while backing The Beast out of Grounded’s dock was do not lower the passenger plexiglass “window” or it wouldn’t come back up–noted by bright yellow masking tape reading “No!” covering the window button.

I turn on The Beast and try raising the windows. Nope. Yeah. Damn. The passenger-side isn’t budging. I let out a long sigh, finding appreciation that today’s weather is at least warmish and sunny.

“Stop moping,” I tell myself. I take a quick campground shower and roll out seeking an idyllic Indian Dunes work from home situation. Might as well take advantage of being on the road with Starlink.

I drive on, leaving high speed chases in my wake. I stop at the only convenience store in the area for my caffeine fix. Walking up, I notice a Coffee Served Here sign in the window. Thank goodness…

Bell jingling as I enter, it looks like a run of the mill convenience store. Junk food, fishing line, and a bunch of stuff I don’t need. The clerk, a white man in his 50s wearing a USA hat, is standing behind the counter, eyes set on the TV in front of him blaring Fox News. Trump is about to speak at a campaign rally, apparently.

“Do you have any coffee?,” I ask. The clerk looks me up and down, “Not this time of year,” he fires back. Right…it’s September. I must reek of California or this guy is guilty of false advertising. Guess I won’t inject my caffeine infusion this morning.

“Thanks anyways,” I smile, and head back to The Beast. I shove the plexiglass window up, which I found lasts about 5 minutes before slithering its way back down.

I head to Lake Michigan and back into a spot overlooking a beach. Lake waves lightly crash on shore with nothing but blue as far as the eye can see. I open the back of The Beast, plop down on the bench next to the bed, and grab my laptop. Alright, alright, alright…this is more like it.

Coursing through emails, I’m reminded I’ve bitten way more off than I can chew. Besides helping execute events in 8 more cities, gaping budget holes in NYC, Boston, and LA stare back at me.

Firing off sponsorship emails and checking in with our team, all I can do is what I can do. Good news is our NYC event RSVPs are off the charts and people are donating at a record clip. My heart fills.

I gaze at Lake Michigan. The water soothing my soul, I trust everything will work out because my heart’s in the right place and I’m working my tail off. Intention, courage, and persistence matter, I remind myself.

Looking back down at my laptop, I see it’s already 5pm. Time to skedaddle to Pittsburgh. I’ve got a six hour drive plus three hours of charging ahead of me. This is gonna be a tough one.

It’s difficult to describe the surreal feeling of driving across Ohio at midnight with a full moon lighting my path while stomping on the floor of an electric RV to the beat of Joe Cocker’s "Feelin’ Alright”.

I’m exhausted, my tailbone is screaming from the uncomfortable seat, massive Trump signs passing me by, but I feel alright, uhhuh. I’m in my element–being the tip of the spear for all the right reasons.

I can’t help but chuckle as I shove the plexiglass window up every five minutes. I’m cruising through BFE (elder-millennial acronym) and there’s a crazy pink glow in the distance. Seat dancing to ‘Thriller’ at 1am, I wonder what the massive pink light could be. Did an alien spaceship just land? Is it a massive rave in the Ohio countryside? A barbie superfan gone wild? I pass a new JESUS SAVES sign. Sure, sure…see you at Hunky Jesus next Easter.

Of course I’m going to check out the light source. Beam me up, please. This is what being on the road is all about. Head towards the light, my son.

Turns out the pink glow is produced by a huge Nature Fresh Farms greenhouse. Womp, womp…I was hoping for aliens–might as well at this point. Oh well…next time.

I pull up to my buddy Ryan’s parent’s house at 3am dazed and confused. Ryan wakes up and lets me in. He’s sleeping on the sofa and gives me the guest bedroom. What a mensch.

I rise in the morning, initially confused about where I am. I see a photo of Ryan with his siblings on the dresser. Ah, right…

I clamber up the stairs, beelining for the coffee machine. COFFEE SAVES. I flip open my laptop, hoping something positive came from yesterday’s email firehose. Ahoy! After over a year of working to get them over the line, Breakthrough Energy confirmed their sponsorship of our Boston Tough Tech Week event with just a few weeks to spare.

I bury my head in my hands, weeping from a sense of relief. “Are you alright, man?,” Ryan asks, sounding a bit concerned. “Yeah, this year has just been a lot. I really needed a win right now,” I explain, wiping tears from my eyes. Truthfully, I’m also confused as to why I started crying. Exhaustion? Stress? Perhaps…I dig deeper.

I realize I’m weeping because my belief in a higher power, whatever you want to call the divine, affirmed its existence yet again. When I put everything on the line for the greater good, helpful hands can emerge at the last minute. The challenge is the support typically doesn’t appear until I’m truly tested–pushed to the brink of utter calamity–faith, worn razor thin, is ultimately the only way through.

Hanging with Ryan and his parents, life is seemingly normal. I try explaining to baby boomers what it is I’m doing and why, and they don’t get it–also normal. Spending the day in a classic Jewish family’s house reminds me of home and I’m comforted, as if wrapped in a childhood blankey.

I board The Beast with Ryan and his father. They’re impressed by how quiet the vehicle is as I back up and are amused by their neighbors’ reactions to a neon yellow Climate Tech Cocktails RV. We're the talk of the ‘hood.

Parking outside InnovatePGH, I’m loving the event poster they made propped up outside the door. How guerilla. I’m excited because InnovatePGH is using this event as a forcing function to kick off the formation of a climate tech innovation ecosystem in Pittsburgh. This is ground zero.

Sporting my Lebowski 2024 shirt to highlight the significance of Pennsylvania at this moment in history, I round up the panelists. Though I typically avoid panels like the plague during our events, I couldn’t resist the urge to facilitate one with Ryan in his hometown. Our discussion about ‘Why Pittsburgh?’ can be found below.

I end our conversation by asking the crowd how many present are students. About half of the room raises their hands. I then ask how many of them want to start a climate tech company–their hands remain raised. Bingo.

I ask these questions because Carnegie Mellon University is #1 in both robotics and AI. Seen those autonomous vehicles roaming city streets yet? You can thank CMU researchers. In other words, Pittsburgh has the brains to spin up some cool climate technologies.

Not to mention Pittsburgh’s history with energy. We’re not far from the nation’s first oil well and the National Energy Technology Laboratory, which created many of the technologies underpinning the fracking revolution. Hopefully we can look back at this gathering in 2-3 years as a seed for several Pittsburgh born and raised climate tech startups.

After mingling and sampling a can of Pittsburgh Brewing Company’s finest, I walk to grab a bite with Ryan and his high school friend. We pop into Primanti’s, apparently a Pittsburgh classic that fueled depression-era truck drivers with hearty sandwiches and fries. Never have I ever eaten fries on a salad—until now. Though the health benefits of the greens were countered by seasoned fries, I admit it was pretty darn tasty.

Not only do I learn about some of Ryan’s teenage antics, but I also get an education on Pittsburgh’s culture. It’s a city of rivers connected by bridges. Apparently, some Pittsburghers hardly venture outside of their neighborhoods during the entirety of their lives, providing an abundance of unique communities. I can relate to the hardworking, determined, and welcoming nature of the locals. Not quite Midwest, not quite East Coast.

Heading back to Ryan’s, I’m grateful to be in the presence of an old friend after a challenging beginning to the tour. Ryan helps me do a tape job on The Beast’s plexiglass window invisible to the eyes of potential looters passing by.

I give Ryan a big farewell hug and tuck in early to rest for the road ahead to DC first thing tomorrow morning.