So, if you resemble these photos and are reading this, we enjoyed the short visit today. Merry Christmas. And if not you, Merry Christmas anyway.

The story: I went for an 80 mile ride yesterday which I shortened for cause, ’cause I ate something that didn’t agree with me. I started out about 11:00, giving the day a chance to warm up a little, and stopped 20 miles down the trace to eat my lunch, i.e. a ham sandwich, some peanut butter crackers and a V8 drink (As I traveled I snacked on nuts and drank a mixture of Gatorade and water (50-50).

I stopped at Emu station; remember the Emus? Scott, who I was about to meet, was already there for his lunch. He was riding a DF, i.e. a diamond frame bike, and was making the 80 mile ride from Hattiesburg to Prentiss and back. We were talking and I was not paying too much attention to my sandwich or the Yellow Jacket that had taken a liking to it. I felt the wings flutter in my mouth and, although not particularly unpleasant, immediately spat; but not before the  little terrorist stung my tongue. It hurt! Oh, it hurt. Did I mention that it hurt, and for the longest time.

I spat, quite forcefully, looked down and the Yellow Jacket was on the ground where it had landed. I resisted the urge to crush him; not being a "Bush and the mid-east" kind of guy.

I later met Scott at the Prentiss turnaround and in reply to his concern said: "The numbness is going away but I can feel the pain more. I don’t know which to root for."  I sort of felt like the fellow in "The Meaning of Life", you know, where death shows up at the party and a guest says "That casts rather a pall over the evening".

After the tongue attack the ride was just not working for me and I started thinking about shortening it; at least thinking about it when I could think of something besides my tongue, and my jaw, and my teeth. Interestingly the pain was migrating. I have been stung before and the pain didn’t migrate, of course never on the tongue. It could have been worst I guess. I have read on the forums about bees going up the inside leg of a rider’s shorts. I don’t even want to think about that.

I decided to stop in Sumrall, 15 miles short of the full 80. That would still give me a 65 mile ride, my age. I came up with a plan to get Jeanne to come get me. Of course I didn’t need a plan, she would have picked me up just for the asking. However, I like to make people happy that I inconvenience them (and maybe a little not wanting to be a cry baby). So, I called and asked if she wanted to meet me at Lau Tori’s for dinner. 

I beat Jeanne to Sumrall by about 30 minutes since I made better time than my estimate and she ran a little late (due to no fault of her own). I parked next to a tree and gave my version of "Tired cowboy on a tired horse".  That’s how she found me. Of course I feigned still-napping for the photo but that is the way it was.

Look at that sweet bike. I love this bike. You can ride a bike like that all day and not get sore. This is the kind of bike you need if you have back or other problems, or are just old. (You can get a recumbent bike on ebay for a few hundred dollars, e.g. $300 to $600. Search for a Bike E; that is what I started with.) Look at the fairing, the wind shield, which I bought for its aerodynamics and as a shield from the cold. However I think I am going to start calling it a bug shield.

Theme: “I love this _____”, November 17, 2007

Now I know why people-of-old rested against trees. You get ideas. I recalled a catfish house we had never tried but one I had stopped at on my first ride to Sumrall. I found them closed at noon and only open each Friday and Saturday night. I made a mental note of the hours although thinking I would never be riding through or stopping at supper time. Who would have guessed? (You do know that dinner is whenever you eat it but supper is always in the evening). I proposed the change to the rescuers and they went for it. The fish was good but I was not in much of a mood as I had developed a headache. I finished and went to the van before them. (This morning I feel fine.)

The ride: Despite the excruciating pain the ride was not entirely unpleasant, kind of not. (Actually the pain was not excruciating. However if you don’t think I deserve your sympathy, try eating a wasp. No, really, don’t.)

The fall colors were great, the weather was great, a certain Yellow Jacket had been very lucky, and I was on a sweet bike. Doing 65 miles at an average moving speed of 14.4 mph is not bad for an old fellow. I was able to maintain 20+ for about 2.4 miles straight. A slight down-grade helped.

I only stopped twice (at 20 miles and 40 miles), not counting the quick stop at an isolated part of the trace after finding the bathrooms at Prentiss locked. Be aware, be very aware, if you bike there on the weekends.

Enough about that ride for now.

Earlier last week:

Speaking of colors changing on the trace  the photo below shows the turn in progress.