Once upon a time, Hubby and I joined other cyclists for a 22-mile ride on the Cardinal Greenway. This former railroad track, now cycling/walking path, stretches 62 miles from Marion, Indiana, to Richmond.
Families, college students, daring adolescents, middle-aged couples, and riders even older than we gathered. They brought varieties of bikes.
I shook my head. “We’d probably fall asleep pedaling and wake up under a bus.”
One disadvantage in a multigenerational ride: some riders looked good in biking shorts.
But we forgave them. They couldn’t help it.
Also, courtesy times 40 complicated our start: “After you.”
“No, after you.”
Eventually, we rode through shady woods. Our pace encouraged conversation with friends, new and old. Birds and babbling brooks sang melodies far superior to any vibrating through earbuds.
Besides, with bud-free, textless cycling, we could detect a combine crossing our path before becoming permanently one with it.
We also could hear dogs, though on the Greenway, they were kept on leashes — a bonus for cyclists. Many of us had viewed entirely too many canine teeth and tonsils up close and personal.
Other Greenway features made it a great ride. Picturesque bridges spanned busier roads. A tunnel echoed with our yells. This nosy writer studied backyards and saw how people really live —research
Several drivers paused to let cyclists cross streets. Their consideration was especially appreciated because our little guys occasionally forgot to stop.
Except dead in the middle of the trail.
Halting a tandem behind them is equivalent to stopping a semi on a highway. Sudden stops might embed the back rider’s teeth in her knees.
Thankfully, most children moved to the right for pauses.
Their strong little legs pumping, pumping, pumping were a beautiful sight. One boy had never ridden 11 miles before. High five!
One trail section runs through soybean and cornfields, wide-open spaces city riders never enjoy. Some cyclists boast of climbing the Rockies. I offer them an unequivocal Thbbft.
A native Hoosier, I like flat. Especially when cycling.
At a picturesque “train stop,” the group enjoyed a yummy picnic, then loaded kids and bikes into the support truck and headed home. Hubby and I, among others, hopped on and zoomed back to the trailhead, thankful for a fun day and weather forecast that fooled meteorologists’ predictions.
Also super-grateful for a soft, soft sofa and [yawn] a major Saturday afternoon nap.
What’s your favorite bike ride memory?