Crawfish Caper, Day 1

Magic Ribbon
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Copyright(c) 2010, Jim Beachy

BRAWCKK!!! BRAWCKK!!! BRAWCKK!!! BRAWCKK!!!

I cower in confused terror as the huge screeching bird of prey swoops down to carry me away into certain oblivion. But at the last instant… I reach out and turn off the alarm. It’s 5:00 AM, time to hit the Long Road! I haven’t attended a WOTI (Wings Over the Internet) function for quite some time, and I’ve been musing about this year’s iteration of the Mississippi Area Crawfish Hunt (MACH 2010), held in Vicksburg, Mississippi. Kitty has been gently encouraging me to take a long ride. I guess she knows when it’s time! Even on Mother’s Day weekend.

By 6:15 I’m heading west on I-66 in the 55-degree morning chill. The moon is a half-slice of California white pizza in an early-morning pale blue sky. I haven’t fueled before starting out so I find myself fueling less than 15 miles from home.

After that brief stop, the Long Road lies before me! It’s been a while since Solo Guy has manifested himself on my rides. He seems to emerge mostly on the Long Road, and he is here today. Solo Guy rides his own ride, eats when he is hungry, stops when he is tired, sleeps when he needs to, talks when he wants to, or not, and isn’t much into counting miles or milestones. Unlike TV’s Cheers jingle that says “Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name,” Solo Guy revels in the fact that he can go where nobody knows his name! It’s just the Long Road and Solo Guy. I’ve described in other stories how Solo Guy is often mistaken for Lonely Guy, but even in this, he cares nothing for those perceptions.

As I head south on I-81, the early green of a Virginia springtime rolls into a blue haze in the distance. This seems to have been the week to clean out the chicken and livestock barns; the Shenandoah Valley reeks with the perfume of rotting manure spread liberally on many of the fields. It reminds me in a small way of the stench that Kitty and I encountered on last year’s ride to the Gaspe Peninsula. But that’s in a different story. Herds of black cows dot the fields, many accompanied by a frisky black calf, or “baby cow” as Kitty and I usually call them when traveling together. Kitty has a soft spot for all babies, and I presume she believes they are cuter if she calls them “baby cows.” For a moment I’m a little nostalgic to be traveling without Kitty, taking a quick inventory of the wonderful trips and the miles we ridden together, but Solo Guy re-asserts himself and I roll southward with a smile.

The morning warms slowly under a pristine sky, and over a period of hours I close the heat vents, open my jacket vents, open the fairing vents, and finally, the windshield vent, one by one. Still, it’s a pleasant 82 degrees.

I have found the sweet spot on the seat, hitting the groove, and I feel I could ride the entire day without stopping. I’m on a magic machine following a magic ribbon that appears just in time for me to ride over it, and slowly disappears behind me. Solo Guy is reluctant to stop, but each 200 miles I’m forced to stop for fuel.

Somewhere in Alabama later in the afternoon, between fuel stops, Solo Guy decides to take a break at a rest stop to drink some water. Solo Guy cares nothing for the concept of riding “tank-to-tank” without stopping though he often does that, about 200 miles each time. It’s very simple for Solo Guy: When he is thirsty, he stops to drink. Under a shaded area at the rest stop, I prepare to sit down on the grass with my back against a tree, and then notice that my walking has disturbed thousands of ants in dozens of tiny anthills. Resting against this tree suddenly seems a lot less inviting and I beat a hasty retreat.

The temperature has hovered in the low to mid nineties all afternoon, and I finally to have stow my jacket. I don’t like riding without my leather jacket, but I’m just getting too uncomfortable.

Having run through the northwest corner of Georgia, I’ve “gained” an hour in Alabama as I approach a potential stopping point 20 miles south of Birmingham. It’s relatively early local time, just before 6:00 PM. I’ve traveled almost exactly 750 miles, and Solo Guy considers riding out the nearly 300 or so miles to Vicksburg. But what to do with the second day of a two-day destination ride if you finish it on the first day? In the end, I decide to knock it off here, get a nice dinner at a restaurant within walking distance, and get a good’s night's rest.

It has been a great day. Tomorrow’s adventures await.