Franklin had worked through lunch and then left his office three
hours early on February 14th – right at two o’clock. It was a
beautiful day for mid-February. The skies were clear and the sun had warmed the
temperatures to a fabulous 78 degrees by noontime. What cyclist could pass up
an opportunity for a bike ride on a day like this?
After pulling into his driveway, Franklin was a blur as he rushed through the house and into his bedroom where in a matter of seconds his
work clothes had been replaced by his cycling clothes. In a non-stop motion, he
cruised through his kitchen to fill his water bottles, grabbed his cycling shoes
and helmet off the shelf in his laundry room, took his bike off the rack and
aired up the tires then punched the code on the garage door keypad and zipped
down the driveway and out of his subdivision. Destination: some point about
fifteen miles away.
While Franklin was riding up the main boulevard that leads from his subdivision to the Farm to Market road that will take him to the rural
countryside, he came up behind a couple, a man and woman, who were also out
riding their bicycles. He slowed a bit to say hi as he passed and then he recognized
the woman as one of the workers at the Subway sandwich shop near his office.
“Hey! Do you live around here?” he asked, slowing a little
more to ride at their pace. “My name is Franklin. I come into your Subway once
or twice a week.”
“Oh hi!” she replied. “Yes, I recognize you. I’m Maria and
this is my husband Hector.” Then as she points to the right turn a few hundred
yards ahead, “We live just a couple of blocks down that road. We’re just
finishing up a little ride and then Hector has to get ready for work. He works the night shift at the steel plant over by the airport. We try to ride at
least three days a week before he goes to work. We usually ride about ten miles
– today we did twelve. We’re not real fast. Probably not as fast as you but we’re
getting better.”
As they approached their turn she paused long enough for Franklin to be able to say, “Well, nice to run into you. Maybe we can ride together
some time since we live so close to each other.”
As they made their right turn, Maria shouted, “Yeah that would be
fun. We can talk about it next time you’re in the shop.” They waved over their
shoulders as Franklin continued straight.
“Hmmm,” he thought to himself. “I wonder if Hector ever gets a chance to speak.”
About five miles further, Franklin came to FM-2920, where he
makes his usual left turn. There’s a traffic light at the intersection. It was
red. Franklin pulled into the left turn lane, came to a stop and waited for the
light to turn green.
As he was waiting he heard the sounds of drums coming from
somewhere off to his left. He turned to look. With squinted eyes, he focused on
the distant sight of someone sitting on the side of the road playing a set of
drums. Inside his brain, the thought, “Well that’s not something you see every
day.”
The light turned green and Franklin headed to the far side
of the intersection and settled into the westbound shoulder. He maintained a
slower than usual pace as he neared the young man playing the drums. It was a
full set of drums – cymbals and everything. Franklin came to a stop about ten
feet away from him and watched and listened for a while. The guy was good. No idea why he was there
though – on the shoulder of this fairly busy four lane road with basically no
foot traffic at all. He thought maybe he should offer a tip but he only had a
debit card and a twenty dollar bill. The kid was good, but not that good! Franklin clipped into his pedals and headed on down the road – the sounds of
the drums ultimately fading into the distance behind him.
Within about six more miles, Franklin was approaching the
turnoff to one of his favorite, local stretches of road. It was the kind of
road where the trees on each side grew up and over, forming a series of
tunnels. There were no shoulders and the road had deep ditches on each side –
usually at least partially full of water. For some reason Franklin had always
envisioned alligators inhabiting the drainage ditches – even though he never
saw one to give him any reason to think that they were actually there. But, he just
figured if you had to have a thought in your head about the drainage ditches on
each side of one of your favorite roads, it might as well include something to
do with alligators living there too. At the end of the tunnel section, Franklin crossed the railroad tracks and navigated the S-turns past the acreages where
the horses seem to always line up at the white board fences to watch him ride
by.
From there, it was a series of two-lane roads meandering
through rural countryside – past acreages with dwellings ranging from mobile
homes to luxurious two and three story mansions. Mom and Pop businesses ranging
from grocery stores, to welding shops – from furniture restoration shops to
trailer sales and all the way to establishments resembling permanent garage
sales. Zoning ordinance freedom at its finest! And, except for the occasional diesel
burning dually driver deciding to gun it just as he passes, sending out a
cyclist-engulfing cloud of black, it was another one of those stretches of road
that Franklin had classified as “favorite.”
As he reached his turn-around point, fifteen miles from
home, someone had placed an old, well-worn couch out on the roadside. A hand
painted sign was propped up against it advertising that the couch was FREE! Franklin slowed to make the u-turn and head back home. He glanced back over at the couch
as he turned and there, tucked into the corner near the left arm and back
cushion, was a groundhog - asleep. A thought-replay came on inside Franklin’s brain, “Well
that’s not something you see every day.”
For the most part of the return trip, Franklin had a
favorable wind which helped it to be a quicker journey than the outbound one.
There were no alligators – as usual. There was no Maria, no Hector. The guy playing
the drums was gone. Even most of the horses had left their stations along the
expanse of white board fence.
Arriving back at his house, Franklin put his bike on its
rack and returned his helmet and shoes to their shelf in the laundry room. He took the water bottles to the kitchen sink, rinsed them out and wiped the road grit off with the sponge. He then went to take a shower and change into some clean clothes. About thirty minutes later, he glanced at the clock and figured that his girlfriend would
probably be getting home from work. While looking at the bouquet of flowers that he had bought for her, he picked up his phone and pressed her speed dial number.
“Hey Sugar, Happy Valentine’s Day! I made the reservation for
seven thirty at our favorite Italian restaurant...”
Enjoyed the Ride - Enjoy the Evening!
You know, there are four other parts to
The Groundhog Pentalogy:
Enjoyed the Ride - Enjoy the Evening!
You know, there are four other parts to
The Groundhog Pentalogy:
Happy Valentine’s Day
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