|
|
|
|
DAY
RIDE 11/16/2013
|
|
|
|
|
|
November
16, 2013
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sometimes
the things of this old world just seem to crowd in on a body. The events
of the last few months have weighed a bit heavy on my heart. I've got things
I should do, but I need some time to just to let things rattle around in
head for a while. The weather is supposed be decent today and I just put
new tires on Frost last night, so that is as good an excuse to ride as I
need. I tend to a few necessary chores then suit up and head out. Bowser
comes out of his house to give me his usual send off. |
|
|
 |
|
|
As I
head west I pass by our church, I am reminded of what a source of encourage
and sweet fellowship it is for me. It is here that I can always find shelter
from the world and get refocused on what really matters. It is things eternal
that should occupy our focus more than the things that are temporal. |
|
|
 |
|
|
I decide
that given the overcast day, the Trace will be a good bet for a relatively
quiet ride. So head down one of my favorite routes. I always swing wide
and test my horn when I come to this get through. Sometimes the folks coming
from the other side are more engaged in phone conversations than paying
attention. |
|
|
 |
|
|
I can't
help but remember when this was just an old farm, with a few cows and a
neat little white house with a tin roof. Now folks are jammed so close together
in their McManors that they would stick their finger in their neighbor's
eye if they were to stretch too far. |
|
|
 |
|
|
The Trace
is like old friend to me - predictable, comfortable, and something I can
count on. I set my cruise to a 'safe' speed and begin pondering. |
|
|
 |
|
|
Though
I've done it several times, I still amazed that I am able to ride forty
plus miles down it and never touch my brakes or let off my cruise control.
Since there's no commercial traffic allowed and limited access on this section,
I can just relax and dodge the few bicyclists that are out this afternoon.
I decide I'll get off at Highway 50 and head east for a while. I am so blessed
to live where I live, surrounded by great roads in most directions. And
not only are they nice and twisty, the pavement is usually top notch. |
|
|
 |
|
|
I just
keep headed east with no particular route in mind, just wanting to get a
little wind in my face and in my head. Sometimes the fresh air does a soul
and body good, as it blows away a lot of those mental cobwebs cluttering
our heads. |
|
|
 |
|
|
I meander
my way down through Spring Hill, once a very small whistle stop. And once
again I can remember when this too was a place of peacefully grazing cattle
and beautiful forests. I guess you could call it progress of some sort. |
|
|
 |
|
|
Soon
I'm out of the booming metropolis and back to the better parts of highway
247. |
|
|
 |
|
|
When
I come to road I've passed by many times, I figure today is the day I'll
take it instead. I've got no place I have to be or go, so I'll just see
where it ends up. It turns into a really nice road that gets filed away
in the 'collection'. It's getting about lunch time, so I decide I'll loop
back around and stop at a little store in Bethesda. I see the cutoff to
Pull Tight Hill and take it. It gets it name, so they say, from the fact
that the wagoneers had to tighten up the traces of their mules and horses
to get them up this hill. |
|
|
 |
|
|
It's
a fun run down it that takes me through CrossKeys and into Bethesda. |
|
|
 |
|
|
It;s
time for gas and grub anyway, and this place has both. It's a great local
market with a pretty good kitchen inside. So it works well for me and for
Frost. |
|
|
 |
|
|
It appears
that the weather weenies have missed the time that the rain is coming in,
since it has already landed. I decide I'll bag it for the day and start
back toward the Holler. But not in a straight line, mind you. |
|
|
 |
|
|
I just
pick and chose some nice roads to bring me back. It's nice to have a great
'catalog' of roads stashed in the 'wetware' for days such as these. |
|
|
 |
|
|
It's
only been a hundred miles or so, but I've got some stuff sorted that needed
to be sorted out in my head. This ride reminds of why I ride - the peace
and the solitude that you find on two wheels away from all of the static
coming in over the mental transom. |
|
|
THE
END
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|