Gypsy's Leisure: Long Way...In?

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Long Way...In?

Normally, I take Interstate 71 south into Louisville to work. The weather's been so fantastic this week that I decided to see just how long the commute would take if I stuck to back roads. The humidity in the nothern Kentucky region has been stable around 39%, which is absolutely unheard of for this time of year. On I-71, the commute takes just over 35 minutes, but it's a mere exercise in survival. The commute via my favorite country roads took nearly an hour and a half. Though it consumed more time, the rural route payed in highter dividends for the spirit. Part of my route included a brief stop on Wolf Pen Branch Road in western Henry County to add the liner to my jacket.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...: I love me some back road commuting. My 27 mile ride to work is usually stretched to closer to 50 miles on the way home many days.

It's therapy, pure and simple. Well deserved and much needed.

:); August 15, 2008 at 6:31 PM
irondad said...: I see you took the plunge to blog. Cool! Thank you for the blog link. Be glad to return the favor since it seems you're riding to work.; August 18, 2008 at 4:29 PM
Unknown said...: Sounds like quite a time difference, but it also sounds like it may be worth it.; August 19, 2008 at 4:20 AM

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Overpass Blues

Every garage houses a collection of spare parts. Odds, ends, bits and pieces stashed away and gathering dust. While cleaning beneath the work bench we might liberate from the cobwebs a broken clutch cable, and the shredded wire reminds us of that time in the rain and dark beneath the overpass on Route 138. While puzzling over how to stitch together the frayed ends, we breathe deep the scent of wet asphalt and cooling tar. Perhaps while waiting for the glimmer of a brother's headlight to swim out of the night, we close our eyes and listen to the shush of rain on corn.

Sporty's Last Ride

I wake before dawn on July 3, 2005 and can't force myself back to sleep. While I wait for a fresh pot of coffee to brew, I push my 95 1200 Sportster out of the garage and gear up in the chilly pre-dawn. I kiss my wife goodbye and inform her that I'm riding an early loop around the county before the holiday traffic rolls through. I seal my fresh java into a thermos with the plan to find a quiet, isolated spot on the road somewhere to enjoy it.

I turn east on Rt. 136 which twists its way through a portion of McLean County, KY toward the Ohio County line. The corn waves in the fields, its sweet smell pushed along by the cool breeze. Still early in the season, the stalks have not yet reached their heights that always give me the impression of riding through a corridor. Ahead of me, the orange light creeps over the treetops and the last stars wink out as their velvet backdrop burns away.

I roll onto a farm access road choked with weeds and shut it down. As the Sporty's engine tumbles to standstill, I hear the belching of frogs from beneath the nearby bridge. A tractor, trailing a plume of diesel smoke, lumbers along the far edge of an adjacent field. The scent of tilled earth ebbs as the machine maneuvers behind a stand of trees.

I crack open the thermos and wait for the sun to climb. Had I known what awaits me just a few days away in the middle of a sultry July afternoon, I'd stay by the side of the road just a few moments more. I would sip my coffee slowly and allow its earthy vapors to warm my face. I'd welcome the light spilling over the nearby ridge, cascading over polished chrome. I'd spread my leathers over the drying grass to soak up the first rays of fine summer sun. I'd stand tall, not shut my eyes against the dawn.