An old chum offered to say a prayer for Dave Priest three weeks ago on the night before he embarked on a bicycle trip alone from his home in Bloomington to Chicago on the Old Route 66 Trail.

"I said, 'I'll take all the help I can get,'" recalled Priest, a prostate cancer survivor who turns 73 today.

The friend saw Priest again the next morning pedaling his bike down the street at the start of his adventure. The friend admitted later his first thought was, "Where is this old man going?"

The "old man" reached the city in three days, but victory pictures on the lakeshore had to wait. Tradition dictated he watch the Bears football game Sunday night. He also took time to recover from the self-powered trip on a hybrid bike he received last spring during the 2008 McLean County Wheeler's Bikes Change Lives Giveaway.

Priest was one of 16 people who received free bikes after they wrote essays to the club. The topic was how cycling might help them to improve their lives. Priest's essay was simple:

"I thought it might be interesting to see if a 72-year-old man, slightly overweight and way out of shape, could train to comfortably make a 60-70 mile day trip."

Priest did better than that. He progressed from needing to cut short an eight-mile training ride with the Wheelers in June to riding 174.1 miles to Chicago. His first day was his longest, covering 78 miles. His hardest day was the last one when he was confounded by detours that forced him to ride on busy urban highways. Priest actually was brushed by the side mirror of a passing car as they rode into a merciless headwind. By then, he was joined by friend Bob Srodon, 69, a longtime cyclist. Together, they rode the final leg from Joliet to Srodon's home in Wrigleyville on Chicago's north side.

"It's a great ride, but for that last day," Priest said. "But it was great. It was everything I'd hoped for."

Priest, a 1953 graduate of Bloomington High School and a 1958 graduate of Illinois Wesleyan University, had his own Chicago advertising agency. He owned a car, but a bike was a primary mode of transportation while he lived in the city.

"The Lake Front Trail was practically in my backyard," he said.

He once hiked down and back up the Grand Canyon. He rode a bike most of the way from Minneapolis to Chicago, a distance of about 500 miles, on a group ride to raise money to fight cancer. But he hadn't ridden a bike for years before he wrote his essay.

After getting the new bike, he started riding ever longer distances. He also worked out on a treadmill and stationary bike in the exercise room at his apartment building.

"The more I got into it, the less of a chore it was. …I really started losing weight. I've lost nearly 40 pounds," Priest said.

His final training ride came a week before the Chicago trip when he drove to Evanston to take part in an organized ride called the North Shore Century. He completed the 50-mile course.

His biggest problem was finding a safe route to Chicago. Old Route 66 Trail doesn't really exist yet. Advocates are pushing for government grants to renovate short stretches of the deteriorating highway. Meanwhile, the trail is a patchwork of rural roads running alongside what author John Steinbeck dubbed the Mother Road in his classic novel, "The Grapes of Wrath."

Priest also cycled stretches of the old highway that remain passable and not too busy. Most of the time was spent on rural blacktops until he reached Joliet. A recommended route can be found at the League of Illinois Bicyclists Web site at http://www.bikelib.org/route66/index.htm.

For several decades before the completion of the interstate system, Route 66 carried travelers from Chicago to California and spawned a linear community of mom and pop restaurants and motels, oddities and tourist traps and a television show. As Priest learned, some of the places remain as monuments to a time when Corvettes and muscle cars ruled the roads and families yearned to see the U.S.A. in their Chevrolets.

On Day One, he visited the Route 66 Museum in Pontiac. On Day Two, in Gardner, he stumbled across an old restaurant that claims to be a former hangout of gangster Al Capone. He said hello to the Gemini Giant outside the Launching Pad Restaurant. He also visited the restored ornate Rialto theater in Joliet, where Srodon won a few bucks and Priest left a few on the craps tables at the local casino.

Priest had scouted the trip by car. But vehicles were restricted from established trails like Joliet's Centennial Trail, an eight-mile section Priest planned to take. As a result, there was no way for him to know the trail was under massive construction. He and Srodon were forced onto busy two-lane highways with narrow shoulders, where the brush incident occurred. The only highlight was passing Dell Rhea's Chicken Basket, a Route 66 landmark Priest frequented years ago.

"Day Three was all about survival," said Priest, grinning. "On the third day, I learned how to ride on one cheek. You can do it. It's a technique you have to learn, but you can do it."

They reached the safety of Srodon's apartment after nearly 10 hours pedaling the last 68 harrowing miles. They made the journey to the lake the next morning after a good overnight rest.

"I told Bob, 'There aren't too many 70-year-old guys who did what we just did,' " Priest said.

He credits the bike.

"I'm in a lot better shape. My energy level is twice what it was in spring. …I don't know if riding a bike saved my life, but it sure changed it."

Priest already has a new goal. He and Srodon want to take a bike trip with their sons.

"We are already planning ahead, but no more trips from hell," Priest said.