Another one of Jerry's 105km (125km getting on and off from my hizzle) cues out east of here provided not only country visual oohs and aahs, but as well enough exposed to the sun's power climbing to hurt just a bit. Dude rolled up from his house to mine at right before 0800hrs yesterday, the Fourth of July. He had just missed my dumb ass neighbor's thick black male cat remove a road killed meat bloody squirrel from the street in front of my mailbox, and then struggle with its head in his mouth all the way to his own back step.
Never a dull moment here in the wild kingdom known as east Charlotte. We rolled out on time with Dude convincing me that we do not have to swallow our pride surfing the side walk on Albemarle Rd. until it ends out by Wilgrove Mint Hill Rd., we would take to HWY 24/27 as if we owned it. Interestingly enough, just like he said when we turned out of the far end of a connected neighborhood onto it, "Oh yeah, we got this."
Then out passed Sherman Branch we spun by as folks unloaded their mountain machines in the lot about to go into the woods before it got too hot. The Rocky River Church Road took us out to the lower then right onto Morrison Rd. It is truly amazing how quickly leaving the hectic traffic of Charlotte disappears turning into an innocuous authentic smelling farm field scape lined with two miles of tall pines. A dog barks while Dude talks about future rides he is preparing for right now. No one is out of their homes, even in the country the blinds are drawn behind the cars filling the drive. A rooster blasts his calls announcing our approach as we zoom by.
Flowes Store Rd was next then left on it again riding deeper out into the gentle agricultural land rollers. As the ride hit the 2 and a half hour mark I started to notice the most uniquely built old turn of the 19th Century farm houses. Some of them were abandoned, slanting to the right or left with rusted tin roofs clinging to main frame chimneys. The porches on these places told me a short story each time I looked over my shoulder then hearing the hot wind in my ear. Mainly white now faded gray was the color of choice, even back then. Vines and golden fields took up my view only yielding to those which were green or brown. Jwaye, you were missing the 'where the fuck am I transfer'.
More heat but not the eXtreme kind, yet radiant and pulsating on my skin. Morale is always good when riding with Dude. As we talked about things in general and pro level drive trains (on his bike, not mine) I realized that I had been riding with him for over a decade. Age is whiz dumb and learning simultaneously while watching friends pedal right next to you for long periods of time or transfer. That famous morale of the only person I was riding with other than me never wavered when I (then we) realized that I had erroneously transposed a left turn missed for an actual right turn that I never saw until we were about four miles off the cue. How could it be a ride with me if we didn't get lost for awhile?
Fixing that with the hand held transmitter as someone parked their idling Agway lawnmower to run into the store gave us the only busy road we felt. Back on continued with the most incredible roads available to ride out of town. Some of them were narrow without any painted lines or a single auto the whole way. Again, the feeling of real living enveloped us as we rode right through the center of it. Where are we, I thought to myself at about three hours in riding as I was staring at hundreds of cows and bulls dotting the immediate right hand side of the paved quiet Euro road for two thousand meters. Cedar post fence with barbed wire run in between separated us on our bikes rolling from these large animals that like a painting disappeared into the distant tree line. Some were eating the lush green short grass while others were moving about with their babies or standing in the center of a low brown pond. Most of them seemed to at least take notice of us as we pedaled on by staring at them.
Mt. Olive Road and its series of sun blistered climbs as well as Dude's pace put me to task. Once again my heart was apparent and visually on the front of the inside of my skull. Bright lights small town or none at all.
Real sugar. On in on Albemarle again something like four hours and a half riding time closing in on our separate homes Dude and I split before the train bridge, him to the right for Pence then Hickory Grove while I continued tingly on HWY 24/27. It took me a minute to cool down when I arrived at the safety of the place I sleep with dogs.
Note from Author: When I logged in toonight to make this post documenting my latest road ride, I noticed that it was going to be my 900th post. Yes I know, most of it is crap but it does fascinate me that I have gotten on here and put something, anything out that many times. Even more intriguing is that you are part of it and at anytime can go back all the way to the beginning, 900 posts ago. To Celebrate I feel like I should go on a 900 mile ride or something...
No comments:
Post a Comment