Do You Know the Way to West Groton?

Blog soundtrack:


Jean Childhood Tangent Note: When I was little, I used to sing into the garden hose in the backyard. My Mom said I was always singing this song. Whoa, whoa, whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa! I love that part, can you tell?!

Today, I introduced my neighbor, John, to the Fabulous and Fifty-Plus Cycling Dudes, Ltd. I hope he forgives me eventually! We met Bill on the rail trail at 10am, cycled off down the trail, and then eventually found Jim along the way.

We stopped for a small chit-chat, and then out of nowhere, Bill said that I could never be a cat, because my bike was too noisy; therefore, I was not "sneaky," which is one of his most hated cat traits! I protested, "But, I just had my bike tuned up!" Bill told me that the guy I took it to was okay for kids' bikes, but he didn't think he was the right person for "good" bikes. I had to agree, because I even noticed that when I switched gears things rattled and hummed.

Bill examined my chain when we were standing there, and he said that I could use some grease. Okay, I was not a good bike maintenance person; well, I wasn't a bike maintenance person at all. Jim said that if we were to make our way back to the parking lot, he had some grease. And, so we left the rail trail and biked on. John seemed to fit right in as far as the pace went, and he definitely fit in as far as personalities went and even professions. John is a plumber, and Jim is a retired plumber and worked for the Boston Globe for 25 years.

Once we arrived at the parking lot, Jim took my bike, dripped some grease over the chain, and then told me to test drive it. I rode around, and when I shifted, I didn't hear a thing. BUT now that my gears didn't rattle and hum, I had another problem. My shoes squeaked. BUT, I was now closer to being a "sneaky" cat than I ever was! I rode by Bill and said, "Hey, you don't hear me, do you?!?!?!" Bill laughed. The squeaky gears get the grease; and it's amazing what happens when they do.

We rode off to cycle the back roads of Hollis, and I had a request to stop at the vintage variety store in West Groton for lunch. Bill said that we'd go here, there, and here again, and we'd finally make our way to West Groton.

I had been biking with the Fabulous and Fifty-Plus Cycling Dudes, Ltd. now for two weeks now or had it been two months? However long it was, it seemed like they were part of my DNA strand now. No matter how depressing the last six months had been without a job, the short time spent with them had wiped that all out. And, if I were to die next year, I'd say that this has been the best six months of my life. Being with my kids, having lunch with my friends, going out sailing, writing my heart out every day, and biking with the Dudes -- this is living life LARGE.

Bill led the ride, but today, unlike other days, he kept testing me at each intersection.
"Jean, do you know where you are? What do we do here?"
I'd answer, "Pepperell! Go left then right, and watch for traffic!"
He'd say, "Good!"

Then at another intersection he'd ask me, "Jean, what do we do here?"
I'd answer, "Go left and watch for gravel."
He'd say, "Yes, that's right. Now I don't have to worry about you!"

At yet another intersection, he asked me where we were going.
I said, "We take a left and watch for traffic."
He replied, "No. We go straight. You'd only take a left if you wanted to try and find those guys with the attitude that you caught up with last week!"

I laughed, and after we crossed the road, Bill said, "Do you know why I like you, Jean?"
I said, "No" a bit surprised that Bill was even telling me why he liked me.
(But, I have since realized that really good men tell you why they like you; and, I have to get used to this concept!)
He said, "Because you're tough, and you're not afraid of a little competition, Jean."
My heart swelled. It was all I could do to not get off my bike, hug Bill, and cry.
Instead, I said, "Thank you very much, Bill," even thought I still wanted to get off of my bike, hug him, and cry. :-)

We rode on through Hollis, and at one point, I heard a crash. John hit Jim's rear wheel and he took a spill. His leg was bleeding, and it looked like he landed on his arm. But, he got up, shook it off, and continued to ride with us. And as Bill says, "Pain is temporary; pride is forever!" I gave John a lot of credit, because it was only his second time out biking this year. Last year, he had been all over the rail trail like an "animal" AND walked six miles every day.

At one point, Bill said he wasn't sure of how to navigate back to West Groton. So, we followed him, never doubting him, until we rode down one long road (TOTALLY downhill) which ended in a dead end dirt road; yes, we had to bike all the way up the hill we just flew down. I had mumbled "Mutiny!" under my breath, but I so wanted to give Bill a navigational chance, even though we had just biked up and down every freakining hill in Pepperell and Dunstable before this point!

Thus, we went right when we should have gone left, and we were finally on the path to West Groton. As we passed through West Groton, a firemen's muster was going on. We were all starving at that point. Bill mentioned stopping for lobster, but it looked too crowded. I still had my heart set on the little store in West Groton. When we finally passed it, I saw the "Closed" sign and shrieked in horror, "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

We all stopped in the little park across the street from the store, and I said, "Well, there's always Tiny's." Jim mentioned that he was hungry, but he didn't want to devour his Swiss cheese sandwich with the Grey Poupon mustard in front of us. Bill said, "Let's bike home, but we have to bike up another hill." I groaned. I was ready to call for the sag wagon at that point!

As we biked by Tiny's, I shouted out to Bill, "Nooooooooooooooooooo!" It was closed, too. Bill laughed, and we cycled to the parking lot; Jim met us there a few minutes later. We waited for John, and Bill said, "We kicked the snot out of him; I hope he comes back." That was THE hardest ride I ever did with those guys, so I felt badly that that was John's first with us. And considering John hadn't biked in ages, he did really well. John showed up a few minutes later, and he shook hands with Bill and Jim.

John and I said good-bye and rode home. I told John that that was one of the hardest rides I'd ever been on, so I hoped he didn't think it was like that every day. I also told him that these rides had been a godsend for me. That is, getting out of the house at 9:30 every morning and biking my ass off made me a lot less depressed than I had been previously.

Though, by now, it was more than that for me; I just loved these guys - Bill, Jim, Bob, and Jeff. I didn't say this to John, but Bill had said it moments before John arrived in parking lot when he was feeling badly about the brutal ride's effect on John; Bill said, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" In the beginning, these rides killed me, but as of late, I realized that they had made me stronger on all levels. So, I said, "Yes, Bill. I wholeheartedly agree." <3