If You Could Read My Mind. . . (while riding)

Many people ask me if I listen to music while I am riding all day.  I do not.

Many people wonder if I get bored when I am riding all day.  Sometimes, yes, but mostly no.

Many people ask me what I think about while I am riding all day.  Not much, but a lot.  

OK, that doesn’t make any sense, but it is true if you think about it.  Riding long distances clears one’s mind of normal day-to-day thinking and the stress associated with that thinking.  It takes a few days, but riding is great therapy for mind-clearing.  What follows is a typical “if you could read my mind” translation, not always in such proper form, however.

 

What kind of bird was that?  Pretty call.

Truck ahead, check behind.  Ok, no issue. . . brace for windwash!

Shift.  Oh, yes! That’s better . . .

God, what a view!

How did underwear get there?I don't want to know.

Oops. Caterpillar!  Swerve.

Fucking gravel!

Ouch – pinch in left shoulder.  Drop to aerobars.

Thirsty. Take water.  Drink more.

When will this rain stop?

Another bungee cord . . . oh, that’s busted. Already picked one up

Scissors?  How’d that get there?  Stop, let’s see ‘em [small pair, perfect.  Keeper]

Wait, is that a good rag to wipe my chain?

Is that a bear?  Stop. Watch. Cute fella.  Better ride opposite side.  No traffic, cross. Stay there, fella!

Damn, this headwind!  When will I get a break!  Grass still blowing the wrong way.

Another single glove. Coulda had a mismatched pair by now!  Where were they when it was really cold?

I don’t understand people that throw their trash.  Sick!

Poor thing.  Raven.  Common and dominant here. One less.

Fucking cracks!  Annoying!

Am I really going this slowly?

Could that be the summit?  Or a false summit to trick me? Grind on.

Cute town.  Quiet. Actually, a bit desolate.  Really wide streets.  Was it really so you could turn a horse-drawn wagon around?

More shiny grain bins.  Few large terminals.  I suppose they want to control their sale point and maybe their type of crop stored?

Ride the line – it seems smoother.  Steady . . . damn cracks!

Ahh, cherries!

To go: voy, vas, va, vamos, van!  [to go - practicing Spanish verbs on boring stretches]

Ravens, blackbirds, and meadowlarks, oh my!

One red children’s shoe.  Really? “but Mommy I don’t LIKE this shoe!”

That is NOT Lipton’s tea in a bottle.  That’s disgusting. Do they pee while driving the truck, then toss it?

What the heck is THAT?  The big trucks haul big stuff here.  I suppose it is more economical but maybe that is why the shoulders suck.  No idea what that machine is used for. Glad they went a bit wide.

Cut grass there?  Such a big yard in the middle of nowhere, yet it is cut and manicured.  Canadians do like their cut lawns and driveway verges as if to mark their domain in some way.

Who knew canola could be so pretty when booming?

 

What’ll my next blog be?  Maybe I could write about an open mind, but is it really wide open?

[Repeat from top]