Today is usually “Tuesdays with Jeff,” as he and I have met for lunch for the past few weeks every Tuesday. We meet where he works under a tree right outside the building, unpack our lunches, and then we chat about life for an hour or so. Today, I emailed him and asked him if he wouldn’t mind rescheduling as 1) I had children to shuttle to and fro, and 2) I really wanted to get out there with the Fabulous and Fifty-Plus Cycling Dudes, Ltd. again; thus, this week, it’s “Wednesday with Jeff” instead.
Bill emailed me this morning saying that he’d be on the trail about 10am. He had to take his truck in for some work. He emailed me last night with the following note:
Hey Jean,
This is just an FYI. I wanted you to see that Bob isn't the only cyclist who can attract the girls. He has his girlfriends and I have mine!
He sent along a picture of him at a stop during the Pan Mass challenge last month; there was a young girl in the picture with him who lives in our town and is a cancer survivor. She was at the stop waiting for him, and there gave him a big smooch. I went to his site, and his goal was to raise $6000, and he did; he actually exceeded that by raising $6,660! I donated, because as far as fighting cancer goes, every little bit helps.
I headed to the rail trail at 9:45am, and as I passed by my neighbor, she asked, “Riding with the guys again?” I said, “Yep!”
Bill got to the rail trail about 5 minutes after me, and then we were off down the trail. I never know what the conversation will be about when we make our way up to Nashua. This morning, after we passed two equestrians, who were taking up the breadth of the rail trail, but moved over after Bill shouted, “Passing on your left!”, I sensed it might be about equestrians when Bill said, “You know, they’re not supposed to be on horses on the trail past Groton. It’s those Groton people!”
He then told me that when the rail trail was first proposed that all the towns that it was going to pass through had been in favor of it, except Groton. He said, “I don’t know what they were so bothered about. It was like they thought the people from Ayer were going to invade their backyards via the trail, rape and pillage, and then steal all their lawn furniture! How we’d ever steal a lawn chair while riding a bike I don’t know!”
I don’t know if you have this town rivalry where you live, but it was clear to me since I lived in this town that it is, well, not as ritzy as two of the towns that border it. Even I, when I first moved here, had been accused of being a “Sudbury snob” by Nathan’s Dad. Of course, the first thing he did when he made it big with Lucent stock options (err, back in the olden days when they were worth something) was move to a “nicer” town. Hmmm, who was the snob now?! :-)
Anyway, Bill relayed his story of riding the trail and encountering three equestrians who had stopped, dismounted, and were blocking the trail. He told them that they were not supposed to be on the trail at this point, and one of the riders shot back that one of the Groton selectmen had told her that they could. Bill then said, “Well, he doesn’t own the rail trail; and if that’s true, he might want to put it in the newspaper, because as far as I know, you shouldn’t be riding these horses here.” To tell you the truth, and I love horses, but it’s really disgusting to bike by and sometimes through decaying horse poop that’s been deposited directly on the trail. Personally, I don’t think horses should be allowed on the trail at all, and if someone's horse poops on the trail, they should have to clean it up (i.e., carry a shovel with them).
Bill’s dislike of the equestrians seemed to be somehow linked to the people in Groton; that is, all the equestrians were women from Groton, and thus, all women from Groton were evil. Although, I don't believe he really thought this, because his sister lives in Groton. It was just that a small portion of the people were obnoxious, just as it was everywhere else in life. He then said, “When you pass them with their baby carriages, you tell them you’re passing, and they move, but you can tell they don’t want to!” I had to laugh, because sometimes I got the same feeling. Of course, Bill lived in Groton until he was in his early teens, but somehow I think the Groton he grew up in then was very different than the Groton he encountered on the rail trail every now and then.
And, then I had to ask, “Is Bob biking with us today?” Bill told me that Bob had found another “girlfriend” on the rail trail yesterday; her name was Heather. Bill laughed as he said, “Yeah, I’m sure Bob asked her if she wanted to see the back roads.” Remember, this was Bob’s cycling pick-up line; well, Bob didn’t really pick up these women; he just picked them up to cycle with him. Bill told me that today was Bob’s club ride; err, these were the grueling rides for which no one usually showed up, because as Bill said, “He shouldn’t be surprised no one comes if he’s going to kick the snot out of them every ride!”
I asked if anyone else would be joining us today, and Bill said he didn’t think so. He them mentioned Jim. Jim was the one who hit a bump on the rail trail and ended up having a pretty bad accident. Bill said he wasn’t sure how Jim was and then said pointing to his cell phone, “If this doesn’t ring soon, I’m going to call him.” About 5 minutes later, a cyclist passed us and Bill shouted to me, “Oh, we’ve got to stop for this guy!!!” It was the infamous Jim!” Bill introduced me, and this is where I knew again that these rides were just as much about socializing as cycling.
Bill asked Jim how he was doing. Jim said this was his first day out since the accident, and he felt a bit “woozy.” Of course, it wouldn’t have been complete unless we heard all the gory details of his accident. Apparently, he hit a bump, his front tire went up in the air, his back tire went up in the air (he estimated it was 12 feet, though I don’t know if that’s possible), then his bike went over and his shoulder and head crashed against the pavement, shattering his helmet. Jeez, he’s lucky he didn’t hurt himself worse than he did. To add insult to injury, he had to get back on his bike and ride back to the parking lot in this state.
He told us that when he was in the air that he hung on so tight to his bike that his handlebar grips were bent 45 degrees inward. I was reminded of the scene from “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” where Steve Martin digs his fingers into the dashboard after John Candy drives down the highway the wrong way! Bill was quick to say, pointing to Jim's grips, “Don’t replace those; they’re your battle scars!” Jim mentioned he had a nice bruise on his thigh then, and Bill said, “If I had to show you my battle scars, I’d have to pull down my shorts, and I’m sure no one wants to see that.” Jim agreed and said, “Yeah, we’re at the age where no one wants us to pull down our pants anymore!”
We couldn’t help but noticed that in one of the water bottle cages on Jim’s bike was a can of day-glo orange spray paint. It would appear that while Jim had fallen victim to the huge bump on the rail trail, he was going to make damn sure that no one else did by giving it a scarlet letter so to speak.
After 10 minutes of chat, we got back on our bikes and headed to Nashua. Jim took a sharp right when we got there, yelled something, and then headed into the woods with his bike. I was thinking, “Where the hell did he go?” until Bill said, “Oh, he needs a rest stop.” Men are so lucky that way. Yes, sometimes we women do wish we had your equipment, especially when it comes to peeing in the woods!
When we arrived in the parking lot, we did not see Bob. Bill said, “Well, someone must have showed up for his ride, or he’s out showing Heather the back roads!” Jim came back out of the woods and joined us. Then Bill asked us where we’d like to ride. Unlike Bob, who we just followed, Bill offered several different cycling rides, and then said, “So, what do you want to do?” This happened throughout the 35 mile ride today. Jim and I always said, “We don’t care,” and then Bill would say, “Okay, let’s do this.” It became clear that Bill’s cycling nation was a democracy whereas Bob’s cycling nation was a totalitarianism.
When we headed off, Bill said to me, “Jean, you don’t mind if we go by this bridge in Pepperell to see how it’s coming along, do you?” I said that I didn’t, and I wondered why we were going by a bridge to check on construction, but I didn’t ask. But, Bill offered more information by saying, “Jim and I have been checking on this bridge while it’s been under construction. Bob doesn’t care, but whenever Jim and I are together, we stop by and see how it’s going.”
After biking about 5 minutes, we were at the construction site. There was a big detour sign; however, there was a makeshift bridge over the river for pedestrian and bike traffic. We cycled onto the bridge, and then Bill stopped. He and Jim chatted about the construction. Apparently, there was a covered bridge here once upon a time; however, it fell apart. Now a replica covered bridge was being constructed somewhere in New York, and when it was finished, it would be placed here over the river.
And, while I knew these rides were about exercise and socializing, they had suddenly become educational when we turned off the rail trail to check on Bill and Jim’s bridge; thus, click on this link and read further if you want to know about the bridge.
http://www.town.pepperell.ma.us/historical/CoveredBridge.html
I think it would bore you to describe the ride in detail. It was 35 miles of lovely back roads, which were punctuated every now and then by hills that had me muttering under my breath, as the 65-year-old Bill cruised up and by me on each and every one, “No more wine!” The best part about these rides are really not the rides themselves; it’s the people. I am enchanted by what they say, what they do, and who they are.
For example, when we came into Dunstable center, we passed a church with a structure to the left of it. And Bill shouted, “Jim, is that a a gazebo or a bandstand?” Okay, who knew there was even a difference! Jim said that he’d have to consult his architecture handbook to answer that, and Bill said, “It’s a gazebo, because it has public access!” Again, who knew!
Again, at one juncture in the ride, Bill was taking a public vote in his cycling land. He said, “If we go left, we have to go up the back of that huge hill by Leigh’s house. If we go right, we miss it.” Again, both Jim and I said we didn’t care what we did. The traffic was bad, so we had to stand there for a few minutes until the traffic in both directions had ceased. While standing there, an old auto came up the road and took a left onto the road we were standing on. When Bill saw it, he said, “Oh, that’s a [pause] ’53 Ford Victoria!” And, if you don’t know what that car looks like (hey, I had NEVER seen one before in my life!), here’s a picture.
As the driver passed, I could see all his windows were open, and Bill shouted, “’53 Victoria?” As the driver rounded the turn, he shouted “Yes!” out of his window. After he was gone, Bill said to Jim, “I had a ’51 Victoria. I had a lot of good times in that car.” Here was where, as a woman, I didn’t comment. I felt like I had a one-day pass into guy territory here, where I knew I didn’t belong, and besides, I pretty much knew what he meant. Jim didn’t say a thing.
Then Bill, remembering he needed to attend to his cycling nation, said, “Let’s cycle like men, take the left, and ride up that hill.” Jim then said to me, “Jean, how does it feel to be about to cycle like a man? I’m sure you wouldn’t pass the test!” I laughed, but, secretly, I loved it that Bill considered me one of the guys.
Today’s ride, while a Democracy, involved a lot of hills. My thighs screamed at me when I got home. When Jim and I were going up the hills, lagging behind Bill, Bill would shout back at us, “No Granny gears!” And Jim and I would say, “Too late!”
When we got back to the beginning of the rail trail, we all sat down on the benches. Jim and Bill ate their sandwiches. Bill tried to convince me to ride back up the rail trail with him to escort Jim back to the parking lot, but I declined saying that I had to clean the house and fetch children. Bill said, “The cleaning can wait!” If I had biked up and back, I would have biked 60 miles total. While it was tempting (not!), I said that I’d head home.
As I was about to leave, Jim told me that it was a pleasure to ride with me. I told him likewise and added that this was the most mileage I had done in years in the last week. I said that I had a 20-mile route on busy routes, and that “as I get older” I was less and less enthused about biking on the busy roads. When I said, “as I get older,” both Jim and Bill laughed. Bill said, “As you get older?!” Jim said, "Let us tell YOU about as you get older!" Just as it had been good to be one of the boys earlier, it was now even better to be young.
Then Jim said, “I noticed that you’re a spinner.”
I asked, “Oh, I am?”
Bill then said, “Yeah, she’s like Lance Armstrong and
I said to Jim, “I don’t really think about how I cycle. I just do what I do; it’s just me.”
Bill then said, “That’s good, and Bob would like that. Always be you!”
And, so I shall be! <3
When I am Reincarnated I Want to Come Back as a Cat Note: I biked over hill and dale today and was gone for three hours. When I got home, this furry lump had not moved one inch since I last saw him. Okay, maybe I shouldn't be surprised by that given he’s a cat, and perhaps as I stood there, a tad sore and achy, I realized I was just jealous of the furry lump!
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