(December 30)
Day 5 - Ville Platte to Oberlin LA:
Day 5 - Ville Platte to Oberlin LA:
Spreading Cheer
Dressed in the bare minimum "cold weather" gear I thought I could get away with just before I get on the road following breakfast at the only place open for breakfast in town: McDonald's.
I dub this image "Gigantic Optimism." Note the red fire hydrant near the lower left corner of the picture. Now, note the COMPLETE ABSENCE of any structure whatsoever. Whichever government official decided that this desolate little corner would ever be developed to the point where a fire may break out requiring the services of this red fire hydrant was, as I say, gigantically optimistic.
I'm going to a party! Only about a 35 mile ride tomorrow and I'll be in DeRidder where I plan to crash the NYE party at the VFW and bust a move!
And damn if I wasn't the winner at waving! I can't remember ever missing a possible wave during those years. Sadly,when I moved to my new neighborhood in Ridgeland (Wrenfield) all the waving opportunities dried up. Not only do I live pretty close to the front entrance (which means I don't really drive through the neigborhood much at all), it is also just a very quiet place and I hardly ever see cars or walkers, etc.. on the road. So, with the marked decline in waving opportunities, my wave habit died.
Until today. Today I decided I would wave to each car that passed by me. Not a huge, overdone wave where someone might think I was in distress, but a more discreet wave denoting my desire to spread good cheer about for the holidays. I was seeking no return waves per se (though a few did wave back), but rather was simply interested in reinforcing this idea I had come up with yesterday on my ride: that I wasn't a cyclist, but rather a Bike Tourist.
While the distinction may not sound like much, yesterday when the change in perspective hit me, it was revolutionary. See, a cyclist...well, at least the cyclist I normally was...cared what their cadence and/or power output was, or their pace, etc.. In fact, very often, trying to maximize my average speed was a big focus of my riding.
But not any more. Or, at least, not on this ride. This former cyclist now waves rather than worrying over what my average pace is. This newly-formed bike tourist, instead, takes in the scenery, waves at drivers in passing cars. This bike tourist talks with cows. Stares down charging dogs. Doesn't worry about whether or not he's keeping up with his itinerary. He just rides.
Oh, how much more pleasant it has been vs., say, my cyclist day where I exiled my Garmin. Today, rather than eat some snacks by the side of the road (though I did have to once), I enjoyed a leisurely rest break in Mamm-MOO where I met Katie, a young Hispanic woman who had grown up in Waco, but had recently moved to Mamou with her husband so that he could take a job as a crawfish fisherman.
Today, rather than obsess over getting on the road exactly at dawn to maximize my riding time, I cut my ride distance in half and enjoyed a quite leisurely breakfast with two elderly widows who had a cup of coffee at McDonald's every Friday morning after 5:30am Mass. When they learned I was riding to San Diego alone, they became firmly convinced that my endeavor was all about finding a woman for myself. Despite the fact that Christine had been widowed 30 years and Elsie had been widowed 12 years {and each seemed perfectly happy alone}, they were adamant that I should keep my eyes open for possible romance.
And, rather than be driven by the Google Sheets spreadsheet I'd put together meticulously detailing my planned stops for the entire trip, I listened to my body which was telling me this had better be an easy day or else.
So, while not all bike riders can be excellent cyclists, I now am convinced that anyone on a bike can be an excellent Bike Tourist.
I understand the widows' thinking. That a woman alone is never really alone, because she has a network of friends. But a man alone needs help. In theory.
ReplyDelete