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SALT LAKE CITY — A Salt Lake man is about to launch a 5,000-mile bicycle trip across two continents, all because he's worried — some would say obsessed — about the dangers of nuclear war or terrorism.
He's been fighting a lonely battle for decades because he fears that police, firefighters and medics won't be ready unless they carry personal radiation detectors.
"The first-responders would be living through a nightmare of uncertainty if they didn't have this," Stephen Jones said.
He earns his living as a house painter, but occupies his spare time with his single-minded crusade. "In my avocation, I'm meeting with senators and congressmen and police chiefs, fire chiefs, all over the country," Jones said. "It's like I have two lives."
In his life as a painter, he doesn't own a car. He rides his bicycle — pulling a trailer loaded with ladders, paint cans, and brushes — for his mental and physical health.
"That's the main part; I never felt so good," Jones said. "You know, I'm 65 now. I don't have time to feel bad any more."
In his other life — as a nuclear preparedness advocate — he sometimes meets with his volunteer team at a frame-shop in downtown Salt Lake. They've created thousands of small, inexpensive wallet-cards with tiny colored chemical strips which they call "Oh Shucks!" meters.
"Each one of these is a radiation detector," Jones explained.
When there's a radioactive source nearby, the tiny strips change colors as a warning to anyone carrying the card.
They call it the "Oh Shucks!" meter because it has three colors. Yellow means "Safe." Green means "Not safe." If it goes black, that means "Oh shucks!" Jones said. "When it goes black, that means you've bought the farm."
Jones has been conducting his crusade for almost three decades and estimates he's has made about 37,000 radiation detectors of various designs.
His goal is to give the cards to all first-responders — cops, firefighters, paramedics — so that after a nuclear attack they can figure out when and where it's safe to do their jobs.
"It will assure them that they're not in danger," Jones said. "Our first-responders would not be subject to panic."
He's already pedaled his bike across the U.S. once to promote his single-minded quest, stopping at hundreds of police and fire stations to give radiation detectors away. In Washington, D.C., he claims to have visited every congresssional office — all 535 of them!
He admits it's an uphill battle. He claims that many cops and firefighters want the detectors but their bosses often don't.
"Oh yeah, the decision-makers," Jones said. "Forget it. They don't want it."
Some officials don't seem to trust Jones as an expert and aren't sure if the radiation detectors will do any good. Nevertheless, like Don Quixote on his horse, Jones is pushing on with his bike, carrying his message to distant shores.
On April 11 — barring the outbreak of nuclear war — he plans to begin pedaling from Salt Lake City to Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts. Then he'll bicycle his way across Europe from London to the Black Sea. Finally he plans to pedal from San Diego to Salt Lake City. Along the way he hopes to give away 10,000 "Oh Shucks!" meters.
Jones said he's funded his project since 1988 with private contributions, which can be donated through an organization called Physicians for Civil Defense. He hopes other bicyclists will join him for parts of his journey.
Reflecting on his seemingly never-ending effort, Jones said, "I've been doing it so long, it's the kind of thing, I can't stop doing it any more, you know?"
