Tonight after work I went for a bike ride that ended up being an about-two-and-a-half-hour trip. First I started down a concrete path that is often my starting point for after-work adventures.
What look like lush fields flooding all the way up to the mountains are actually rice paddies, but you can't see until you're closer to the water that they're springing from.
Eventually the path becomes a rough dirt road, and I'd forgotten to take this and the heavy rains we've had from monsoon season into account. The dirt had melted into mud, and it was the kind that grabbed my bike's wheels and kept causing me to skid or get sucked in. Seeing as much of the path is hedged on either side by steep drops or wet rice paddies, I resolved to come back by a different way, because I knew by then it would be dark.
I was glad to reach the old train tracks that signaled a paved road and decided to head off in the direction I'd gone last time. That way leads out to an interesting village and several old roads that slip beneath the highway bridge. It's fascinating to look at the abandoned train cars, disintegrating like big metal bones in grassy graves, but I was also thinking it might rain, and the overpass could be my shelter. (I should mention here that I'm relieved it didn't storm while I was out; riding around on a metal bike when I'm the tallest thing around would have been a little bit too hair-raising, I think.)
But in the end I went another way, a way I'd never been before. I drove past some old houses and a traditional restaurant, and finally found a road. I crossed it to return to civilization and found myself in a part of the city where I'd never been before.
After wandering around a bit I encountered a fascinating restaurant. I couldn't help but gape in awe at just the building (see below), so I hope I can return to eat inside someday.
At some point after this I began the long trek home. When I reached the highway I rode along the handy bike path and enjoyed some awesome scenic views:
At some point, though, I began to see signs only for other cities and not mine. Somehow I'd lost sight of all the buildings that stand starkly on one edge of my rice paddy rides. All I could see were fields, mountains, and the purple clouds growing deeper, darker.
I'd been going the wrong way, riding deep into the country, and it was getting dark.
I turned around and gained some speed, but soon I was getting nosefuls of bugs as I zoomed along the road. This had spoiled my nice evening ride before, so the other day I acquired a bandana for shielding all my airholes. I retrieved it and employed it and it worked even better than I had expected.
Soon I was zipping along, the cool night wind rushing through my hair, the bugs all strained out by my mask...and then there was a hill. A giant hill.
By the time I reached the top, I was panting and heaving, feeling tired, hungry, and dehydrated...but look!
The city was no longer lost! It was exactly where I'd left it, awaiting my return.
I sailed down the hill and home, sweet home, again.
What look like lush fields flooding all the way up to the mountains are actually rice paddies, but you can't see until you're closer to the water that they're springing from.
Eventually the path becomes a rough dirt road, and I'd forgotten to take this and the heavy rains we've had from monsoon season into account. The dirt had melted into mud, and it was the kind that grabbed my bike's wheels and kept causing me to skid or get sucked in. Seeing as much of the path is hedged on either side by steep drops or wet rice paddies, I resolved to come back by a different way, because I knew by then it would be dark.
I was glad to reach the old train tracks that signaled a paved road and decided to head off in the direction I'd gone last time. That way leads out to an interesting village and several old roads that slip beneath the highway bridge. It's fascinating to look at the abandoned train cars, disintegrating like big metal bones in grassy graves, but I was also thinking it might rain, and the overpass could be my shelter. (I should mention here that I'm relieved it didn't storm while I was out; riding around on a metal bike when I'm the tallest thing around would have been a little bit too hair-raising, I think.)
But in the end I went another way, a way I'd never been before. I drove past some old houses and a traditional restaurant, and finally found a road. I crossed it to return to civilization and found myself in a part of the city where I'd never been before.
After wandering around a bit I encountered a fascinating restaurant. I couldn't help but gape in awe at just the building (see below), so I hope I can return to eat inside someday.
At some point after this I began the long trek home. When I reached the highway I rode along the handy bike path and enjoyed some awesome scenic views:
At some point, though, I began to see signs only for other cities and not mine. Somehow I'd lost sight of all the buildings that stand starkly on one edge of my rice paddy rides. All I could see were fields, mountains, and the purple clouds growing deeper, darker.
I'd been going the wrong way, riding deep into the country, and it was getting dark.
I turned around and gained some speed, but soon I was getting nosefuls of bugs as I zoomed along the road. This had spoiled my nice evening ride before, so the other day I acquired a bandana for shielding all my airholes. I retrieved it and employed it and it worked even better than I had expected.
Soon I was zipping along, the cool night wind rushing through my hair, the bugs all strained out by my mask...and then there was a hill. A giant hill.
By the time I reached the top, I was panting and heaving, feeling tired, hungry, and dehydrated...but look!
The city was no longer lost! It was exactly where I'd left it, awaiting my return.
I sailed down the hill and home, sweet home, again.
