Monday, May 7, 2012

The Road To Reno




I get a message about a road ride in Havana. Treeman promises it will be "easy, easy, easy". I have heard it all before, and I am not fooled. Big Worm, King Cotton and Zak decide to join after some delicate negotiations. Thank (Deity of choice) they are coming, I am allergic to wind.

The tarmac leaving Gadsden county is pristine and whistles under our wheels. I sprint for several yellow signs to get the gold rush started. After chasing L.W.B. and Worm for a sign, I decide to hide for the rest of the ride. My legs hurt and it's going to be a long ride. The day turns hotter and the sweet pavement turns to a rough gravel mix. We stop to drink the holy water of Reno Baptist Church and head back out with full bottles.

I hear Treeman yell, "right turn!" and I notice the pavement is ending and it has been replaced with orange talcum and rocks. Big Worm howls with delight, and starts cutting three inch trenches in the fresh pow. Treeman swears he didn't know that this road was dirt. I can't help but notice he and his son are both running fat cross tires. L.W.B. is laughing his head off, as I ride like W.C. Fields. I find a ridge in the center and slow to half steam. I'd rather be lost in South Georgia alone, than have a re-broke collar bone. I am screaming like a girl at each soft section. The road comes back and we meander through the picturesque countryside, like we have gone back in time. The next downhill is a welcome sight, until I see the "Loose Gravel" sign. I thought nothing could be worse than the clay shavings we survived, I was wrong. Again Big Worm is bombing the hill with abandon, with Zak and Cotton on his heels. I squeeze my brakes.

Six miles from the car the rivets start popping. The coke from the General store (where the sweet rotund woman looked at me like a dessert menu) and the holy waters of Reno Church have all run out. My neck will not hold up the bowling ball any more and every turn of the pedals is agony. Worm, Zak, and Cotton, are a distant memory. L.W.B. and B. smell the stable and ride away,  like I am a stranger. Treeman stays with me, out of some misplaced obligation he feels for organizing the ride. The scenes become familiar again and we find the car. I hose off next to the small brick police station. Next door, the congregation is nearing the end of a song, as five soloists break free from the chorus. The cold water is the greatest thing I have ever felt.

We change, we eat, and speed home just ahead of a storm front, straight out of "Twister". L.W.B. passes out on the couch ten minutes after telling me the ride wasn't that hard. Week four of my comeback ends not with a victory or even a tie, but it doesn't feel like a loss.

These days, that's pretty good.


W.B.Z.N.



8 comments:

BIGWORM said...

That ride was awesome. Would have been even better, had I not had the dark cloud of work hanging over my head. I can't wait to hit those roads again. Super stoked to see something new, especially when it's that good.

Velosopher said...

Congrats on your return from the re-dead. When I have a mediocre ride, I remind myself: I rode. I finished. These days, that's saying a lot, and can bring on enjoyment all by itself.

Treeman said...

Not misguided, wasn't sure you knew the way home and didn't want to have to go back and look for you.

BTW ,good story.

Did you know you're digital? BW said something about WB on WB off?

reverend dick said...

Sounds like you're sucking it up butter cup as required.

Drink deeply, brother, that IS the Good Stuff.

Magnum said...

you should try some sort of off-road bike, like what the kids refer to as "mountain" bikes.

Juancho said...

Claw your way up their bodies, eventually you will find their throats.

Human Wrecking Ball said...

BW-no matter how bad you felt, I still find it funny that the scariest part of the ride cracked you up.
Velo- I am stacking up the little check marks, working towards a star. Whether it ever happens (for now) is imaterial. Of course I reserve the right to completely get frustrated later if I am disapointed.
Treeman-whatever the reason I am thankful for the lifeline. Remind me to slap you and BW later for that last comment...BASTARDS!
Rev-Afirm on the buttercup sucking, mostly on the sucking.
Mags-uh....mountain what?
Juancho-I am a sloth but I have big claws.

Little Ball said...

I wanna do it again this weekend! maybe start when its cool though and a little longer.