It was a usual quiet Sunday morning when my phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Say I am a day early for my group ride and thought I’d ask you if you wanted to go on a ride?”
How spontaneous!
“Sure,” I said. “Still have my bike gear on. When and where?”
“How about now. I’m in the parking lot across from your house.”
And so began my spur-of-the-moment bimble with Gretchen.
At first we talked a lap of the lake. Then murals came up (imagine that?).
“Ok, then. Turn right instead of left at the top of the hill.”
And off into the neighborhood we went in search of local sights.
About halfway through the ride, Gretchen suggested a turn down a tree lined street.
“I grew up on this street,” she announced. “And that there was our house.”
“My mom designed this window,” she told me. “There used to be beautiful blue and white striped metal awning and lovely landscaping – including a dogwood tree in the flower bed (the stained glass window is a dogwood bloom).”
She went on to tell me that two giant oak trees framed the lot, but storms got one while we still lived there. Not sure what happened to the other. It’s funny how everything looks so small as an adult. 🤔
Gretchen also told me how her dad meticulously cared for that lawn.
Amazing how a simple side trip on a bike can conjure up memories.
All in all we rode about 10 miles at 10 mph (average), saw a half dozen murals or pieces of art, and shared a number of stories and laughs.
This is yet another case for “bicycle tourism.” And right in your own backyard. And just about the time you think you are the tour guide, up rolls a friend who says, “I know this place.”
Thanks, Gretchen, for letting me ride beside you on your brief trip back in time.
Relentless
