I see dead things
So was this deer’s head removed by a car or a knife?
Alligator
Armadillo
Butterfly
Cat
Chipmunk
Deer
Fox
Frog
Mouse
Possum
Rabbit
Raccoon
Raven
Skunk
Snake
Sparrow
Squirrel
Turtle
Vulture
I wake up on the basement couch; I’m literally a subterranean version of Steven Wright in Half Baked. I remember what year it is. I remember staying in a red roof inn in nearby Dayton Ohio a decade ago (nearby via motor vehicle or private jet standards, anyway). The app on my phone notifies me of nearby lightning. It’s 5:15am and I can’t see shit outside from within this bomb shelter of a basement, but I can tell it’s raining quite hard up there.
45 miles of hauling ass later and the fucking sun is out. The dissipation of the 90% likely storm came about slower than the speed I was moving… but I seen it! Speaking to the sun can be a healthy exercise. Think of it as positive reinforcement of good weather. The power of intention. The most ballingest shit you can do! It works. The clouds are gone, and I’ve a slight tail wind. With the rail trail to myself, I average 18 mph and suddenly I’m now on the outskirts of the state capital. Of course, getting into the city even on a Sunday proves challenging and it takes me another 3 hours to go the final 15 miles of today’s ride.
I roll up to his place and we get to catching up before hitting the Whole Foods so I can restock on trail mix. We discuss the conflicting dynamics involved in yoga pants. We record an episode of his podcast and I get to run my yap about whatever people think is interesting about me. It’s a lot of fun. I pretty much camp out in his basement, which is becoming a theme. I dose off on the futon (fuck yo couch) in his studio with my phone still in my hand.
Karen makes eggs and coffee; I pack n go. On a mission to cross the Purple People Bridge to Cincinnati (appropriately named, as there’s no cars allowed and it’s painted lavender). From the folded up tables and well collected trash, they were partying on it last night and also have a good volunteer base/budget for cleanup. 🌉👍🏽. Riverside Road in Cincy is closed to through traffic as of last week. Super bumpy and needs the facelift but it’s cyclists, joggers and pedestrians only for that whole stretch of normally brutal riding. I’m effectively riding a 40 wide foot bike lane that’s about to be torn up. I hope the citizens of the Ohio/Kentucky border get a separated bikeway. I hope they paint it purple. That’d be some pimp shit. This is just the early morning.
I finally get on the rail trail. And that was it. I was on a flat straightaway through the woods of Ohio my entire day. This is just the little Miami section of it. But supposedly most days are gonna be like this – I’ve got my fingers crossed fo sho. Plenty of benches and shelter and water and restrooms along the way. Far as I could tell, communities are popping up stuff along the trail, things are growing along it everywhere. Canoeing on the river. Hikes. Bike shops. Pubs. Fun stuff. People out and about like a motherfucker. I hit everyone with any or all of the church of the Spirit of Rick James’ holy trinity: Smile. Nod. Wave. I think about how many people I just made positive genuine connections with. I don’t go on Facebook anymore but I bet this is a much better version of it. Share that shit.
The Ohio State transportation whatsoevers and whoevers have done a fan fucking tastic job with their rail trails, and this is just day one. These multi-use paths show off the state to tourists and provide points of leisure and recreation away from motorized traffic for residents. They are getting used by human beings. This is what urban streets were built for and could still be. It’s not an incredibly complicated concept but it’s difficult to drive the point home without an actual experiential event to back it up. Perhaps start by reading Streets For People: A Primer for Americans by Bernard Rudolfsky. I discovered the book in a museum on the last day of an NYC-Montreal bike tour. Good start there. Get back to me after so we can figure how in the hell the word primer should be pronounced.
With no more hills and decent cloud cover with occasional sprinkles is perfect, I no longer have to switch gears. I can haul ass and build the momentum. I average 17 mph and make tracks through small towns left and right. A soaking downpour comes in around Xenia so I take cover under a shelter and meet a man named Demetrius with his family. He strikes up a conversation with me about life, the number 7 and my bike ride. Nice guy for sure. Reminds me of how cool all my Ohio friends are. Swing states are the best.-
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In “Desert Solitaire”, Edward Abbey notes:
“A man on foot, on horseback or on a bicycle will see more, feel more, enjoy more in one mile than the motorized tourists can in a hundred miles. Better to idle through one park in two weeks than try to race through a dozen in the same amount of time. Those who are familiar with both modes of travel know from experience that this is true; the rest have only to make the experiment to discover the same truth for themselves.”
Hoping for a Tail Wind 