There are lots of different types of bike riders, two of which are a) those who ride all year, and b) those who have the sense to ride only when it is nice outside. I find myself in the prior group and am even known to revel in riding through a snow storm, sub-zero temps, and the like. All that said, however, I won't deny, when the weather turns nice, it is just that much more enjoyable to get out of bike. Spring really is an awakening, a rebirth.
I was riding high on the (S)hog(un)
So, this morning, I met the gang of Snails, Brendan, Dario, and Peter, who pedaled with me out to Uconn, at which point, coffee beckoned them but the open road beckoned me. Hard for me to pass up such a day with any extra time inside, so I continued on my way for a loop that took me out through Hampton, Scotland, Canterbury, and returning through Lebanon and Hebron, with so many wonderful little back roads I'd never previously had the pleasure of meeting. Twisting two lanes, old cemeteries, high water ponds, and wooded hollows, I found them all. Connecticut may not be a huge state, but there are so many pockets I have yet to explore, and how better than on two wheels.
And I found a HUGE pair of channel locks on the side of Rt14!
3 comments:
Connecticut may not be a huge state, but there are so many pockets I have yet to explore, and how better than on two wheels.
I know it! I lived there for a good deal of my life, yet really only know only parts of the place. I need to get back and ride to all the places you mentioned. Northeastern Connecticut is such a mystery to me!
Those channel locks look like they chew up and spit out rusty lockrings for breakfast.
Your inner GPS is mighty strong. I was lost in Manchester yesterday while looking for a shortcut I learned from you last year. First I struggled uphill for as long as I could, and then when I was ready to pass out I began to look for small openings in between people's yards. My vision was blurry and everything looked familiar. While gasping and wheezing loudly I slowly peered into strange people's backyards. I could not find distinction amongst this morass of bleak lawns. Driven by a sense that my time of anonymity in this neighborhood was quickly running out I girded up my resolution and sped blindly towards some wild shrubbery far beyond the yards. My knobby wheels churned up deep muddy furrows in the soil like a team of oxen with a plow. I struck and felled a child's playscape before falling on my chin in the thick mud. I think I heard angry dogs barking. I fled abruptly, covering my face with a sweaty bleeding hand.
I don't think I've quite grasped the persistence of your methodology, but the struggle is worthwhile.
When the snails ride again, let me know. I've been itching for some Spring miles to new places. Need to get the saddle time up too for a long ride in April.
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