On the Road Again

Dear Blog Reader.

I hope that this finds you doing well. I am fine. In the pages of this blog, I have taken the opportunity to share some of the sights that I have seen while riding. Before yesterday, the most amazing sight was the big dog walking beside two people on a gray January day a mile down the road. Dogs are my biggest concern when riding. I am a little concerned that they might take a hunk out of my ankle. However, my biggest fear is that they will miscalculate when determining their angle of attack. They will overshoot and hit my front bike tire and send me head over handle bars and into six months of not riding while recuperating. It is the six months of not riding that worries me most.

Every dog concerns me. Will the dog behind the invisible fence make the leap though its operant training and finding itself suddenly free, go dashing to my death? Will the dog on a tether pull its stake loose and come dashing across the yard to tangle itself in my front spokes? Will that pit bull latch onto my throat when he dismounts me from my stead? Even the dog on a leash worries me. Owners with those retractable leashes seem especially foolish. With the dog acting like a yoyo going in and out, sniffing at this, peeing on that, the owner is lulled into complacency so that as I ride by, Fido will make a break and ruin my day. As you can see, dogs live rent free in my head when I am riding my bike.

On that January day, I swear that the dog ahead of me was 3 feet tall. I am confident that I can out run any of the short legged breeds. While their short legs can move like frenetic pistons, their short strides are unable to keep up with my own adrenaline fueled pedaling.  This 3 foot tall monster will easily be able overtake me with an easy lope no matter how hard I pedal; even if I pedal so hard that my heart nearly bursts.

The sight that I saw yesterday on my afternoon ride was just as affecting as that 3 foot canine monstrosity. This road that I bike is lightly traveled. It is a road to nowhere. One does not pass this way from someplace to someplace else. It is a dead end in southwestern Madison County. I ride alone on this road. I ride alone except for the walkers with dogs, the riders on horses, and occasional pickup heading to work or coming home from the store. Yesterday, I came upon another fellow traveler. There in the middle of the road was a red jacketed old man. He was walking down the middle of the road; oblivious to any traffic or bicyclist out for a spring ride.

He is walking very slowly; extremely slowly as a matter a fact. He is walking with the help of two 4 pronged canes. He is a slump shouldered, white haired old man, leaning heavily on those two canes. He is headed towards a house 100 yards away. A plastic patio chair is setting out on driveway. A white rickety plastic chair facing a winter worn garden that grew Black Seeded Simpson lettuce for wilted lettuce bacon sandwiches and 2 rows of okra for fried okra. A white plastic with slightly splayed back legs from holding a man who had been out soaking up some sun.

Here he was walking slowly down the middle of the road, determinedly placing one crutch in front of the other in his struggle towards the white chair. It is customary to let pedestrians and other bikers know when you are about to pass. I was reticent in this case. I somehow thought that the sudden voice behind him would disrupt what appeared to me to be a battle to maintain balance. So I went around him to the right; plenty of room to spare even though he was in the middle of the road. I lifted my hand in a friendly wave as I sped quickly by.

As I went by, I thought of the strange things I see on the road and how they often aren’t what they first appear to be. I thought of that three foot tall dog that turned out to be a pony. Going forward, I will think of that teetering frail old man that turned out to be a man of true grit determined to get on the road again.

Take care.

Roger.