Monday, November 26, 2012

Sailing Away


Voyage
There is a sail far off on the distant horizon. By the color change in the water I can tell how far offshore that sail is and by the size and shape of the sails I can tell that it is a big boat, probably more than a little over sixty feet and swift and sure and headed south off the East Coast of Florida on a gloriously chilled November day. The fact that it is that far offshore for this time of year is indication enough of the size of the vessel and the proclivities of the captain.

 But what of that?

Am I not the captain myself of this here little old Schwinn Super Le Tour?  A Black Pearl of a bicycle and together this day we have slain city buses, scorched miles of bike trail and conquered big bridges! Together this day we have covered many miles, swift and sure our ownselves, surviving catastrophic bus rides, surly drivers, rehab bound vagrants and a wind from the North that has grown incrementally stronger as the morning passes.

We Put In For Supplies
I am sitting at that Little Market by the Sea that is almost fifty miles from the Whispering Pines Trailer Park and I am glad to be here. I am doing my best to sip this big can of Heineken slowly and take a proper break that does not involve hurtling down the highway at the speed of dangerous. But my old nemesis Aeolus is here today, apparently hung over (and angry about it) and he cannot seem to leave me alone.

I have many times trekked to this little market and in many different situations over the last thirty years. It is an absolutely unsexy spot but it is sexy enough, in its own Florida fashion. I love this place and would be buried here if not for foolish ordinances about putting graves in front of convenience stores. No mausoleums here: just bait and beer and concrete tables and the Atlantic Ocean. Not bad companions, really, all things considered.

My Vessel
Little Miss Dangerous looks pretty sexy herself, leaning against the turquoise wall of the shuttered ice cream shop next to the market. Something is not quite right with the shifting. On the ten mile sprint into the wind after the last bus ride she started ghost shifting, or chain skipping, or some technical term I don't know. She wants to shift under stress but somehow she always shifts to the gear I would have chosen anyway so it is a pleasant problem. I was careful placing her in the rack on the front of the bus, but another passenger, a big guy who looked like Grizzly Adams, had put his Mountain Man bicycle on the rack at the stop after I got on so...well, I ain't sayin' he bent my derailleur and it doesn't look bent but those Mountain Men can be pretty rough.

The Wind Works For ME
I drain my beer and set the empty can, snug in its little brown bag, on the concrete table top. Aeolus promptly knocks it off with an impolite gust. I am not impressed.

“Not today, Pal. That bus kicked your ass and I didn't do bad myself. So you just save your breath for the ride home. I'm counting on a nice little sleigh ride out of you, and no back talk, unless you are talking behind my back and pushing at the same time. Got it?”

He snaps the flag flying on the pole in front of the store with a challenging CRACK! But I remain aloof to his bullying; today I used the bus and was writing and looking at schedules and bouncing around like a jack in the box while trying to think up ways to sneak beer onto the bus while the Wind and the Behemoth fought it out without my help. I bend down and pick up the empty can, toss it into the trash and go back into the store.

A Port I Never Visited
There's a lot of traffic on this old seaside highway and I wonder why. The sun is out and doing a good job and it is a beautiful day for a drive; but these people seem to be going somewhere. But where? Then I am reminded that quite a while back some giant corporation built an entire city just a few miles north of here. Probably Walmart.  A planned community for thousands of people that unsurprisingly did not work out the way  they planned. Many of my carpenter buddies worked on this project, commuting an hour each way. The pay was good enough and they were glad to have the work. For them it was better than traveling the Gulf Coast States with me, living in cheap motels and working fifteen hour days far from home. I lost a lot of crew to that pseudo-city and never have I liked it since.

Log Entry
This second beer is pretty tasty and I am wondering, should I pedal on up there and have a look around? I have never actually been there...these honey roasted peanuts sure taste good with this Heineken-In-A-Bag...

The wind is staying strong out of the North. I have to keep a hand on the half-empty, no, half-full... wait...I have to hang onto what is left of my beer as Aeolus, ever rude, attempts to snatch it away. It is about 75 degrees Fahrenheit and the Sun is a sultry friend as I sit here across from the good ol' Atlantic Ocean in November in Florida. Right now there is no place I would rather be and man, ya gotta grab these moments while ya can. What a day! And not quite half over! 

Inventory of Ship's Stores
 I bought a quart of “Smart Water” on the way here and it is in my Goodwill messenger bag along with a little Topeak pump (thanks KAZ!) and two bananas, one last bag of peanuts and some kind of Power Bars for which I paid way too much money.  There was a boiled egg in there earlier that I tossed in at the last minute, thinking “Hey, it comes in its own protective wrapper!” That didn't work out so good but I ate the remains anyway. 

Prepare To Cast Off
 I am at peace with my place in time and space and I have a fifty mile ride home, with a strong tailwind all the way. The sailboat is gone, heading on south and it would be a good idea for me to do the same. I throw away my scraps like a good little beer drinkin' Boy Scout. I sling my Goodwill messenger bag (that I feel naked without) over my right shoulder and I pull on my gloves. I am beer fueled and strong, peanut fed and linty-egg reinforced. Through craft and the luck of the season, the wind is in my favor and as I climb onto the saddle of Little Miss Dangerous, I take a last look around.  This place is far enough from home that I don't get here very often.  It is a place of rarity and that makes it special, also.

And Then...
I point her south on the freshly paved shoulder, hit the first three pedal strokes standing up and just like that, The Trailer Park Cyclist is in flight. The Atlantic Ocean is on my left hand and always will be and Good Ol' Florida is here on my right. I am at home, in every sense of the word, and I am soaring into the ever unknowable future, happy for a day like this one, once in a while; the future will be what it will be but today, right now, the Ol' TPC is in flight and happy and that is how it should be.

Whispering Pines Trailer Park and Travel Guide
#84




16 comments:

  1. Wow TJ! A post like that puts a song in my heart this Monday morning! Wishing I was out on my bike but it's only 37 degrees this morning, and besides I have to work.

    Thanks for making me smile with the thought of you flying down the road, en danseuse as the French say when standing up to pedal.

    Great ride and great write, my friend!

    your old pal,
    Brian in VA

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    1. Hey, thank you, Brian. There was a book I read about forty-five years ago about some kid who is orphaned and goes to live with a foster family, or something like that. He finds salvation in cycling and goes on to become a champion racer.

      I was absolutely captivated by the story and all the details about what it takes to be a champ and I remember that was the first time I read "en danseuse" and it stuck with me, although I never seem to hear that term anymore. As a twelve year old living in Paducah, Ky there was about as much chance of finding a racing bike and becoming involoved in our glorious sport as there was me actually getting any of the premium prizes off the back pages of Grit Magazine or ever making it out to Pedro's Camp on a Boy's Life scholarship. That doesn't mean I didn't try, though.

      Thanks for the generous comments and as always, thanks for coming by!

      tj

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  2. Thanks Tim Joe for the best thing I have read this "Cyber" Monday. I am getting some of that "chilly Sunshine" today here in Seattle today so I best turn it into a Cycle Monday. Keep on Pedaling Velo Brother. Hope that Super Course Mk II Finds its way into your work-stand.

    Ryan

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    1. I'm going by to look at it tonight. I can't really afford it right now, unless I forego beer for a week or ten days. Sigh. I must really like old steel bicycles. I have always had a soft spot in my head for those cream and green lugged Raleighs, though...

      Thanks for dropping by the Park, Ryan! You'll be the first to know if I get the new project bike. tj

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  3. I took a lunch ride today and could have been convinced to keep heading out into the country. What is better than a day out on the bike? I like me sailing, but me sailing on my bike is even truer.

    Yer Pal
    Zig

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    1. Oh man KAZ: Check it out: Number One Son Beauregard is flying me out to Los Angeles next week. I don't know why. I have not been more than fifty miles from the Whispering Pines in over six years, and that was on my bicycle. He REALLY wanted me to bring my bike, but the damnable avarice of the Airlines made it too expensive. I told him to just get me a one-way fare and we would use the rest to cover the bike fee but he didn't like that idea.

      I was gonna help him out with whatever the Father-Son thing is he is up to, then pedal to an area in downtown Venice that I know about and be a street person for awhile. I've done it before and it ain't all bad: Urban Camping. But since she became mine I have never been more than a couple miles from my bicycle and now here I am planning to on-purpose be strip-searched, x-rayed, sardined and separated from me Little Darlin'for a week and that is if everything goes OK, which with me it never does.

      You may recall my reluctance to fly up to your Castle du Lac and it was because, honestly, I would rather pedal than fly. I fly well enough on my bicycle and while I love exploring new places I have always had far better luck getting to those places under my own steam, or at least in a vessel with my name on the registration. I am a Master of Bad Travel and nothing about this trip pleases me, except the chance to be of parental service to my first born with whom I am well pleased.

      But it would still be better if Little Miss Dangerous were along for the ride.

      You are a true pal, Zig! If I survive, you will hear all about it! I will find my way to the Ziglar Estate, someday. Someday...

      Yers in srvce and fidelity, tj

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    2. Woot! It appears you have a most excellent adventure in store and I will be attentive to your reporting. I'm sure you can scrape up a set of wheels out there and you can leave your assurances with Little Miss Dangerous that you ain't cheatin'. It's good to hear some Father-Son time is in store. It's a wonder how years change things.

      And I am sure you understand the invitation stands open. We'll be spinnin' around the lake together one of these days to be followed by toasts on the dock.

      Yer Pal
      Zig

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  4. TJ, thank you for the awesome write up. Just what I needed today, having been under the weather for the last week and not been on the bike in 2. My soul needed this lift to get through today.

    Keep riding and keep writing!

    Dan

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    1. Why, thank you, Dan. You know, so many of you guys thank me for my posts, when in the real world of old tim joe it is you guys who are keeping me going. I really appreciate the support and since i may not survive my flight to the west, let me say farewell and adieu as I forlornly pack my other pair of underwear into my Goodwill messenger bag, along with some sad traces of trail mix and what little nitroglycerine I have left since that thing with the rats. Did I just say that out loud? Great. Whatever the case, I will definitely have a lot to tell when it has all become yet another Tim Joe story.

      Dan! As always, without you my life has no meaning! Someday I plan to pedal to Vegas and prove my genius at Texas Hold 'Em, whatever that is. Your backyard will never be the same.

      tj

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  5. You paint a beautiful picture for those of us who are earth-bound. Happy (late) Thanksgiving.

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    1. Miss Crystal, it is always a special treat when you drop by the Park. My Thanksgiving was quiet and uneventful. My durable girlfriend otherwise known as the Blonde has two grown daughters who do not like cooking. But, luckily, they are both partnered with men who LOVE to cook and so my late November eating is both bountiful and voracious. Add to that the fact that her oldest son has just butchered a pair of wild hogs that have been a-fattening for lo these many months and all I will need for Xmas is a sizable chunk of gator tail, a quart of Uncle Bill Sauce and another quart of something at least 100 proof and 'twill be the season to be jolly.

      Thanks so much for dropping by the Pines! They will whisper a little whispering in your honor!

      tj

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  6. TJ,

    Another great post. It seems like you're really hitting your stride with your writing lately - smooth and effortless seeming. This one was almost a tease at the start - I thought you might take us down memory lane with some of your sailing exploits.

    Hope it was a mostly peaceful Thanksgiving down there at the Pines.

    Steve Z

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  7. Steve, the reason the writing seems effortless is because it IS effortless. it is when I try to write fancy that the trouble starts. This post was written in a cool little notebook that i carry with me on the bike, sitting at that concrete table. If it were up to me, it would be the only thing i do. But, alas, it ain't up to me.

    As always, Swampboy, it is a pleasure to have you visit the Park. Your own writing, by the way, shows that you are thinking about writing. I mean that in a good way. The written word is the noblest thing we beans do, and the more of us doing it the better the world becomes.

    tj

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  8. Not sure why but your post put me at peace with my time and place today.
    Thanks for that TJ,
    Your friend, Jim

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  9. Well, that's the highest praise I could hope for. Thank you, Jim.

    tj

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  10. Great post. I love the wind, we have a relationship. I would be alone out there but I have the wind and my shadow, so it is a group ride.

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