On the Bike Again

I just got back from my inaugural bike ride of the year. Right...I'm real hard core. I pawed around in several dresser drawers and located my bike shorts and long-sleeve bike shirt. Shoes were on a bottom shelf under a box that once contained a Christmas gift. Dog hair clung to the velcro straps. I opted for a bright yellow-green vest for my outter layer. It was visible in the closet. To the garage. I had to move a few storage boxes, my son's tools, canoe paddles, snow shovels, and a big bag of grass seed to get to my bike - an aging (but good in its day) cyclo-cross job. Returned to the bedroom to get my biking gloves. Helmet was in the garage in its usual place - on top of my office archives kept in a wall of cardboard boxes stacked against two cupboards containing my sons' old athletic gear and other unclaimed items. Replaced a really funky water bottle still on the bike. Tires were at 40# so pumped them up. I was ready to ride so didn't bother to lube the chain or anything else.

I exited my subdivision and stopped at a major intersection in a line of traffic waiting for the light to change. Rush hour begins in earnest at 4pm around here, and traffic speeds down the parkway that my line of traffic must cross. Have to be careful here since a green light doesn't necessarily mean it's safe to venture into the intersection. Parkway drivers often run their red light doing around 50. I got across the intersection and headed north paralleling the parkway on a bike trail. After crossing two more busy intersections and one blind off-ramp, I was headed west on the Washington and Old Dominion bike trail. My destination was Ashburn, Virginia, a round trip of 24 miles.

There weren't many riders on the trail, but a high percentage of them were obviously regular riders in good condition. Their bikes sped by silently. Mine clicked along as I took in the sites. (Should have lubed.) A new golf course is nearing completion. The jarring planks on a bridge spanning one of the creeks had been replaced with smooth synthetic boards. I heard peepers near a wetland area. Vultures caught the wind and flew over trees that line the trail. Large planes on final approach flew low over the trail en route to Dulles. About one mile from Ashburn, a group of teens from a nearby middle school were standing on the trail oblivious to bike traffic approaching from both directions. They made desultory moves so bikers could pass. I started thinking about a snicker bar.

One mile ahead is Partlow's Store, a landmark of sorts from simpler times when the area was cropland and pasture, and the bike trail was the railroad line that took dairy products and produce from Loudoun County to DC. More recently, the land supported sod farms to make instant lawns during the building boom which began in earnest 25 years ago. Housing and shopping centers now sit on the sod farms. With a snicker on my mind, I parked my bike and clomped across the porch of the store. Closed. It's 4:30 in the afternoon! The sign says they will open at 10:30 tomorrow morning. So much for this community fixture where one used to get a cup of coffee or a sandwich, fishing tackle and live bait, and biking snacks (SNICKER BARS) from early morning until dark.

I took a long pull at my water bottle and headed back. Teens were still in the middle of the trail. Peepers were still making their spring sounds. A few more miles and I was back at the parkway. I headed south, crossed the intersections without a problem, and arrived home pleased with the ride. I enjoyed the crisp air, the small gestures that bikers make to each other as they pass - sometimes just a nod or a subtle raising of a hand from the bars - and the look of the sky as it darkens toward evening. Bike is back in the garage. Water bottle is in the sink. Dog is now by my side shedding a fresh supply of hair destined for the velcro straps of my bike shoes.