by Andy and Elaine Hampsten
I first met Rob in Italy. He was a journalist and I was just beginning my cycling tour company. He came to write an article about what I was up to, won an award for the article and earned my respect for life.
For the next decades Rob helped guide alongside me, bringing his witty, resilient character to the mix. We rode together on dozens of trips all over Italy and parts of France and California. He became a best friend and a brother to me during those years.
Rob was a fixture at my dining table. For a time we cooked and ate together several times a week. Cooking mostly Italian food and inviting a few or 20 people to join us. His minestrone, with ample pancetta, was always the star of the show, enjoyed even by the most reluctant vegetarians. He organized The Big Night where we took over the Burnt Toast restaurant in Boulder and cooked minestrone and cinghiale in umido and many other courses for our all star friends.
Rob was in it with me through the good and bad times. His comedic approach to situations, whether appropriate or not, always brought me back to the present. He was a man that could wear a thong and nothing else in public while keeping a straight face, and also sit through my daughter’s school plays boasting a proud uncle grin.
We spent our down time together doing grunt labor: building sheds, digging foundations, shingling his garage; but also more classy things like planning his and Rebecca’s surprise engagement party. He was as dedicated to me as he was my family. Rob has played a major role in our family history— he married Elaine and me. My daughter Emma was appropriately tortured by Rob like a big brother might, and loved on in the same manner. When my son was born, Rob was the first outside our family to hold him. Rob is rich in friends, many of our closest were introduced to us through Rob, and it is a gift that we enjoy every day.
Our stories have Rob woven through them, he will be forever part of who we are. The pain that comes from the thought of never seeing his smile again, the mischief in his eyes, has yet to ease. But what we hold on to most is that we had one of the greatest humans ever known in our lives. Rob was truly one of the best, and he chose to share his life with us, to stop by when he didn’t have time, to check in even if it was brief, to send a message or ridiculous snapshot of what he was up to. We are grateful for our time together and thankful to have called such a man our friend, brother, uncle.
Very well written Andy. I only got to interact with Rob for a week when I met him on one of your Cinghiale cycling tours in Tuscany. After only knowing him for a week in Italy, I didn’t know him that well, but after reading your post, I can see maybe I did get a glimpse into the amazing young man he was. We were in touch via facebook for about 20 years both getting married and finding our soul mate and having kids. So I got to know him from afar and his writings and posts. Spending a week cycling the the gorgeous rolling hills and talking with Rob about life was one of my favorite memories on your trip. Right away I knew he was one-of-a-kind. His sense of humor, and wit is something I will never forget - as a new rider he made me feel completely comfortable and at ease. He was pretty remarkable as a guide, and a storyteller. Riding for hours and listening to him reflect on life experiences and values that give purposes — was such a gift. And I will always remember him nudging me to really get out and enjoy the world, see the majestic beauty of our planet, take in the views, sounds and smells and live life with purpose. And that’s exactly what he did! It was an honor to have met him. - Laura McCoy-Martin