Springtime in Virginia is the best time to get the ebike out on the road for some quality cycling time. But springtime in Virginia is also the best time to get the gardens ready for the summer/fall crops, the fields groomed, the outdoor furniture set up for summer, all the outdoor farm projects started, etc, etc.
Which means the bike riding gets squeezed further down on the priority list. Just squeezed, mind you. Not forsaken.
Yesterday I managed to crawl out from under the pile of busy farm projects to enjoy a relaxed solo 20 mile gravel road ride around our quiet countryside. It was, without embellishment, a total treat. Spring is taking its good 'ol time arriving around these parts, but if the greening grass has anything to say on the matter, the heady rush of new growth will arrive by next week at the latest.
Most of the roads were butter smooth and very fast, the tracks from various motor vehicles having pushed the stones into the substrate to create an exceptional riding experience that was virtually effort-free, marred only by an unexpected pothole here or there. Where the state had spent time "improving" the roads with a fresh layer of new gravel, my speed dropped like the proverbial stone down to a labored crawl of only 8mph. At one point, going up a particularly fierce, freshly graveled hill...nay, make that deeply thick, as in "laid on with a trowl", freshly graveled road, and make the hill a monstrous Everest-of-a-mountain going straight up ...even in 2nd gear with highest assist on, my speed dropped to 0mph. I was forced, ignominiously, to step/stagger off my bike and take the "walk of shame" up the remaining bit of the hill. Of course this would be the one and only time there would be other people out in the road for the entire 20 mile ride to witness what had never been seen before, and hopefully never will again. Two ladies walking and talking were my unintended audience. It was embarrassing, to say the least. At the top of the hill I recovered my breath, and my dignity, hopped back on the bike, and resumed my ride as if nothing had ever happened. My bike resumed its carefree course as if nothing had happened either, but I assure you I gave it a stern talking to later in the garage.
I love these inpromptu roadside streams. They only appear after the rains have swollen the small creeks onto the road itself even as the rest of clear, clean, fresh waters tumbles in artistically carved stream beds winding through fields and woods along the way, passing under the roads in old metal culverts that had seen better days and, more often than not, displaying partly crushed opening from any number of vehicles over the years that had failed to maintain a straight course on the roadbed above. Many of the old culverts were starting to rust away, too, creating small holes in the road above as the gravel found its way down through the rusted opening into the tunneled creek below. Entropy reigns supreme, but at a snail's pace.
Cows taking full advantage of the greening pastures, pausing in their efforts to provide a full manicure of the fields while they watch my bike tootle down the road.
Not sure of the breed, but those horns are sure trophy sized.
My amble took me past an older gentleman in his front yard, busy picking up fallen tree branches to build a meticulous Tower-of-Babble-worthy column bonfire which sat nearby. I passed him without greeting (he looked rather busy), but stopped when I started to pass his back yard. There, without preamble, stood the strangest thing. A small tree decorated (for lack of a better word) with glittering purple glass (wine?) bottles hung/placed/shoved onto the ends of each branch. And a garden gnome, his back to me so he was unaware of my stopping to stare.
I turned my bike around and pedaled back to the front of the property to see if the older gentleman picking up sticks was still there. He was, his arms full. I called out a hello and he raised his head, pausing in his stick collection efforts while he looked around in confusion to locate where that voice had come from. I waved hello as I stopped at the head of his driveway. He saw me then, and (still looking a trifle confused) waited politely while, unbeknownst to him, two sticks snuck out from the others gathered under his arm, dropping to the ground in hopes of making their escape from a soon to be firey death. I engaged in the typical greetings and pleasantries of a random passerby, told him I admired his property, then expressed my intense desire to know the significance of the "bottle tree".
"I have no idea" he said plainly speaking, looking at me even as another stick silently dropped from the back of the pile under his arm hoping to join the first two in an escape effort. He stood and waited for my response. The ball was now in my court.
His comment took me aback. "You...don't know why all those bottles are on your tree?" I asked, incredulous.
"No," he said, his attention on me, unaware that yet a fourth stick had dislodged from his grasp, dropping to the ground to hide in the grass. If he stood any longer, his arm was going to be totally empty. "That's my wife's department," he said as solemn as if he was putting his hand on a bible to swear an oath in front of a court judge
"And she didn't tell you why?"
He drew himself up straight, his white mustache as proud of itself as he was of himself, and declared with the complete conviction of an long married husband in good standing: "I have learned not to ask".
Another stick made its unseen escape from his unwitting grasp while he stood and surveyed me, waiting for my next question. My turn for an escape. I thanked him, told him again that his property looked beautiful (which earned me a grateful smile from his mustache), and took off down the road. I glanced at the gnome's back as I passed the garden, wondering what his story was. But I wasn't about to go back for another go-around with Srgt. "I Know Nothing!" Schultz picking up his sticks for his bonfire build. I'll wait to see if the Colonel...I mean the wife... is out and about next time I travel down this road.
Sometimes life imitates a comedy sitcom.
Makes my rides immensely entertaining from a human interest standpoint.
