| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | 7:30 am , 34 degrees, ice on roof, loaded with bananas, raisins, Gatorade, protein bars, gumption, and a goal to get to Covington, it's only 80 miles, I got all day, the sun is shinning, why not, haven't rode much lately, it's cold, it's a lonely road, it's a challenge, that's enough for me . I rode the river levee to the spillway in Norco , that went fine except a narrow pass through a gate covering a pipe leaking something, I couldn't avoid it, held my breath, pushed through, at the spillway, I crossed , rode the railroad road to Airline , then Old Hwy 51, long, boring, straight, allows the mind to wander to places it shouldn't , like into itself. Nothing scarier that searching the neglected corners , the hidden crevices, the shadowy cells holding thoughts you dare to examine, consider, reason, rationalize, all tethered to the idea that your somehow sane and like other people, when the reality is once your out the womb and until your in the burial box your alone, on your own, different, our eyes see all different, ears hear all different, nose smells all different, and finally our brains perceive the billions of events around us differently, perception , I think, I can make the bell curve bend more. This road makes all that happen. MP3 player supporting me by pounding thoughts, harmonies into each ear, crashing the middle brain, metastasizing , creating an entire body responding to songs like, "Born To Be Wild", "Highway To Hell" , "Hell Bound Train", "Reconsider Baby", "Soul Sacrifice", "My Own Prison", "Slow Gin" all songs everyone MUST be familiar with. Arriving at Manchac the temp is up to 37 degrees, not interested in stopping, eating, drinking while riding, stop at the designated personal relief station , wiz , back on the road, crossed some recumbent riders, recumbent riders are low flying bike riders, speed is their partner. Approaching the end of Old Hwy 51 requires a merge onto Hwy 55, cycles aren't allowed on Interstate Highways, even for 50 feet, the distance to cross the canal blocking the exit to Pontchatoula and Hwy 22. The solution is simple, swim the canal with cycle attached to back, walk the outside of the shoulder to the exit, that way I'm not a lawbreaker , besides escaping the alligator adds to your speed, the vibrations of the 80 MPH Amtrak 10 feet away are invigorating. It has to be obvious that I'd swim a gator infested canal in 37 degree weather rather than break the law...I'm like that.... Arriving at Hwy 22 I feel a sense of accomplishment , further than I'd been on this route,,turning east on Hwy 22 civilization abounds, felt secure, some of the bridges over the small rivers were narrow, necessary to time crossings with traffic . About 30 miles to Stacy's house, I'm focused, consistent, pushing, pushing pushing, suddenly I feel woozy, eyes loosing focus, stopping quickly so I don't fall I find myself in front of an old abandoned faded brick store of some type, dropping the kickstand I head for the stoop, remove my helmet , sunglasses, drop them on the gritty cement , drop to the stoop , sit there hunched over face in hands, wondering , is the mysterious gas I inhaled in NORCO affecting me. I stabilized monetarily , looked around, nobody to ask for help , check my watch , eyes faded to black,I hear a familiar voice, it's Jerry Springer,, "Our next guest is Gary", "Gary is a cyclist, but seems to habitually find himself in the [Twilight Zone]", "Gary whats going on ?", I reply, "Jerry , every time I take a long ride on my bike something sends me to the [Twilight Zone]", "I meet the same people and characters, it's all weird, I wake up sometimes more than once, realizing nothing that happened was real but it really was..".Jerry resumes his introductions , " Gary we have some of those characters here to help understand this, lets bring out Truman Ghandi, welcome to the show Truman". Out walks the same Truman Ghandi , tall thin, wearing his signature, Captains hat, like the Captain on "The Captain and Tenille" wears, still freckled all over, thin, faded "Lee" blue jeans, high top black "Keds" tennis shoes, white crew socks, a button up tailored small square plaid shirt , red and green squares, and a crooked smile covering a mumbling Calvinist voice, I shake hands with Truman as he takes the chair next to me. " Truman, tell us what your experiences with Gary's biking trips have been",Jerry ask, Truman speaks ,, as usual it's a murmuring, mouthful, unintelligible, but interesting to listen to , Jerry jumps in , "thanks Truman , that's great, lets bring out our next guest, this the grandson of the Sherpa that helped Hillary up Mt Everest, he's traveled from Nepal, goes by the name Sherpa, welcome to the show", out walks what you'd expect , a Sherpa, 5 layers of coats, mountain boot's a coil of nylon rope over his shoulder, gloves, dark skin, big smile, matted hair, he takes the next seat, dumps to the floor his rope , an axe that was in his belt , some other gear. He begins to explain in a beautiful British dialect " I don't mind being in Gary;'s twilight zones but it hard to keep going up and down the mountain to entertain him, I need a break , what ever happened to all the other characters?, " Jerry takes control again, " a lot of Gary's characters couldn't make it here tonight, Alice of Wonderland, the 3 foot beetle with white gloves , a derby, and cigar, the Hookah smoking caterpillar, Humphrey Bogart, Geronimo, many chubracabras, mermaids, coyotes, Snidely Whiplash, Mr Peabody, Jude Glenn, , many more , but ! , we got one of the most important ones here,,please welcome the creator and writer of {The Twilight Zone}, Rod Serling, welcome Rod". "Thanks Jerry" the audience applauded till he asked them to stop, they knew the master had arrived, dark suit, white shirt, thin dark tie, thin lapel, cup of smoking coffee in one hand, a smoking Winston in the other,, Jerry ask the question, " thanks for coming to the show Rod, can you shed any light on Gary's imaginable trips to {The Twilight Zone}?" , "sure Jerry" he replies confidently , "its more common than most of of realize, I see it a lot, his characters are a little weirder than most but the base of the situation is common" . Jerry responds "so what going on ?" Rod answers , "its called [et tardius ferri solveris] " , Jerry interjects, " Sorry Rod but you haven't helped us, that sounds Latin,," "yes Jerry", he retorts, "its Latin for [screw loose]", "the man has a screw loose, it's the only entrance to [The Twilight Zone]". Rod takes a sip of his coffee,a drag on his cigarette,and donned a smirk of accomplishment . My shoulder starts to shake, my eyes slowly open, a tall thin black man in a white button collared shirt , dress slacks, an eloquent straw hat , hovers over me asking ,"are you all right?, are you all right?, are you all right?", I can't answer yet , I just look into his eyes , but his eyes don't look back, their like cat eyes, his leather dress tie shoes slide on the sandy cement as he tries to help me up , I'm able to stand, again, I look into his eyes, still they don't look back,grabbing my bike for balance I turn to thank him but he's dancing down the street,a skipping hopping dance , I scan around, not surprised, he's gone, gone, gone, or didn't exist, can't tell anymore,,, my head cleared up ,I recognize the man , "Rapture- by Blondie , video, Deborah Harry looking great as this gent danced around her,,it's all clear, "screw loose",
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHCdS7O248g, check the watch , I was out of order for 2 minutes, big gulp of Gatorade, donned my helmet, mounted my steed, inserted headphones, whats playing, "Blind Faith","Can't find my way home", how ironic,Stevie Woodwind ,Eric Clapton,early venture,,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0-xGM19iEw
I stayed on the remainder of Hwy 22 to Causeway Blvd, took a left and said hello to my daughter and grandchildren,,, great ride,,,, fun ride, cold ride, beautiful scenery, great Twilight Zone event, wouldn't be a ride without it ..feel safe , Marie came in the Transit, I loaded the bike and gear, started driving to the lake, I only had a fiver on me so I needed to get change at the booth,slowed down stuck out my arm with the bill, the gentleman put down his cup of coffee , his cigarette , counted out three ones , I had to look up knowing what I'd see, yes it was Rod Serling manning the Toll Booth..Not afraid I continued on , half way across the lake Marie shakes me to wake up , I'm not driving, she is , what going on I ask?, you fell asleep as soon as you got in the truck, yakking something about Deborah Harry's legs...
gary gauthier
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