After pausing in Fort Wayne to let some weather get ahead of us, we set out. The historic route for the day was the Lincoln Highway. The first transcontinental automobile road, it was conceived in the early 1900's. Today's piece was route 30. Past towns small and large, we rode through the wide girth of fat Ohio. Warm and clear, the weather was our friend.
Mile after mile of corn, soybeans and dairy added patina to this flat landscape. Every fifty miles or so a curve and a rise in the road would wake us. At a rest stop for lunch, Jules tried to light a fire, but everything was too wet. Just days ago where we stopped, fire bans had been in place for months. The variations in weather and climate in the past 60 days have taken us through all the seasons.
The daily storm clouds built up in our path, growing darker by the mile. Sprinkles of rain put us under an overpass suiting up. Wise choice because immediately the rain fell hard. Hunched down behind the windshield we weathered the thankfully short storm and soon were folding our rain gear into the saddle bags. Then for the rest of the day, we rode in sun through rain drenched roads. Our luck with weather on this trip has been classic. No strangers to rainy rides, we expect the worst. But nothing but the best has been handed to us.
In the process of robing and disrobing, Jules' second pair of riding glasses on this trip broke. Finding the nearest Harley dealer to buy another pair, we rode into Mansfield. Situated overlooking the Mansfield Reformatory, we had a lesson in cinematographic history. The setting of the "Shawshank Redemption", the architectural beauty of the building belied the inner truths. A new prison stands nearby. Barbed with wire and utilitarian in design it is honest in its presentation.
Off the Lincoln Highway, we tracked into rural Ohio. Stopping at a small local market, people walked off their jobs to talk to us. They wanted to know about us and were amazed we were from New Jersey. When they heard the whole story, amazement gave way to disbelief. Traveling is a gift that is not given to all, and again I feel so fortunate.
On the border of Pennsylvania, we are almost home. The West has spoiled me. How can the Alleghenies compete with the Rockies? Flat land dominates! Where are the switchbacks and the altitudes with views that deprive you of breath?
Yet, there is a height and a depth of that place we call home that has nothing to do with geography. It is the landscape of our lives, and it surpasses all others.
Has so much fun following this post. Thanks for taking the time to write it.
ReplyDeleteChris Bloom