The Kindness of Strangers
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As seen (newly installed this week I might add) just a bit down the gravel road from the entry of a neighbor's estate. I was tickled pink to see it, and texted her that I loved what she and her hubby had provided.
What better way to employ an old tree truck, and a shady bit of land next to an equally shady and extremely quaint centuries old gravel road.
Only did 13 miles this morning, just to enjoy some cycling time. A torn rotator cuff and a project "Honey Do" list that was long enough to wrap around the house twice, down the driveway, and out to the road to disappear over the horizon have kept me otherwise occupied, but the majority of my efforts have been towards things that let the arm have some downtime to heal. Which, sadly, means no biking. Anytime the arm is stretched to hold the handlebar means teeth clenching pain. And pain overrides the pleasure of biking.
But the arm has been getting better, so I chanced a quiet, local ride today, mostly letting my arm remain quietly relaxed at my side while letting the uninjured arm do the lion's share of guiding the bike. My hubby was tackling his own "Honey Do" list - the item on the agenda today was replacing some 33 year old rotting trim on the garage. We called out goodbye to one another as I zipped down the driveway on my bike while he stood on the ladder, removing old trim boards.
Was rather surprised to see a great many cyclists out on the gravel roads. Now that we'd had some much needed and greatly appreciated rains, the roads are lovely again. No choking, blinding dust storms rising up like avenging tornadoes behind every passing vehicle, no fine film of dirt covering everything at the end of a ride, rider as well as bike. The scenery, parched and brown and sorrowful only days before, had recovered to a vibrant green so vivid that it bordered on intoxicating. Perhaps that had something to do with the big grins that met me as I drew up on a gravel road corner where 5 cyclists were standing, taking a breather before tackling the steep curvy hill in front of us.
Upon my query as to their starting point, I was told "The Plains", which was easily 20 miles south of where we all stood. "So you've come to ride our gravel roads now that the rains have finally dampened them down", I chuckled. All of them grinned a 'yes' in return, and one of the riders, a thin older fellow with a very elegant, very bushy beard, standing astride a very capable mountain bike, said "No more...
poof " while pantomiming with both hands rising in the air the image of a massive mushroom cloud explosion of dust that any passing vehicle would incite on the previously dry-as-a-desert roads. "I wish we had left earlier...like 6am", he added with a resigned shake of his head. It wasn't hot...yet... but I noticed he looked a bit tired already, and asked them all if they had enough water. I pointed just down the road they can come upon, telling them that the Huntsman's house and barn just around the bend had plenty of outdoor faucets for water if they needed any. One of the riders seemed very happy to hear that, and thanked me profusely.
I left them with goodbyes all around, and tootled up the steep hill in maximum assist, 3rd gear. (Yes, it is a very steep little hill). The next 2.5 miles were relatively flat, and I was in no hurry to put on any speed. Which is why, after two other cyclists going the opposite way passed me, both saying hello and one actually greeting me by name (still wondering who that was?? Obviously a neighbor...) the group I'd left behind finally caught up with me. The lead rider, as he passed me, said they didn't think they were going to catch up with me. I laughed and told them I was on an electric bike, and if we'd been on an uphill they never would have caught up. Another rider pulled up next to me, curious as to how far my bike would hold a charge. We talked for a few minutes, and he was very impressed (he said) by my bike's capabilities. I wished them all a good ride home - 20 miles by my estimation - and watched them slowly disappear from view.
Even with my arm dangling down at my side being completely useless with the exception of that hand being the one changing the assist levels, my rotator cuff was bothering me. So I took the shortcut home, enjoying the blissfully cool shade of the trees hugging the sides of the gravel roads, and the peace and quiet of the newly revived and freshly cleansed countryside. It wasn't until I reached the paved road in front of my farm that I felt the first hit of hot air like a body slam out of nowhere. The first warning of the impending 94 degree heat that would envelop us within the hour.
I was already rolling up my driveway when the lovely cool morning abruptly disappeared in the face of a heat so intense it felt like someone had opened an oven door while it was on broil. Perhaps, as that one rider had said in that ride group, they should have started sooner, I mused. I sincerely hoped they'd be back home before this sudden intense heat hit them as well. I sincerely hoped that every rider I met on my little loop would be back home poste haste.
Tomorrow we are expecting to hit the century mark for temperatures. 100°F (37°C). A good day to continue resting the arm, and slowly checking items off the Honey Do list.
I'm anticipating both shoulder and weather will be vastly improved by next week. Our temps are supposed to drop into more agreeable realms at the end of this week, so the probabilities of me and my bikes being able to hit the roads again are a big One-O on the scale.
P.S. I was left with the 51% of the battery. The descent cost me only 1% for re-starts and the bike computer operation.
