Biker 7: Convent Louisiana , or Up The River

Horace Greely said , " Go West Young Man", so I did, packed up for a 100 miler, better prepared than Bay St Louis trip, everyone loves my Gray with Pink Trim draw string back pack, its so apropos, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, same kind they use in the tour de France, bananas, oranges, raisins, cookies, cheese,
protein bars, Gatorade, if I was lost for a week I'd not be hungry. Sleep didn't come easy, felt like a 10 year old boy the night before his first fishing trip, couldn't wait to get started, I knew there was adventure ahead , on the river I'm Huckleberry Finn, rafting the edge of the current, wondering whats around the next bend,
catching that catfish that'll make dinner, looking for a calm beach to spend the night. What Huck didn't see was the obnoxious pipes, hard hats, open structures, obnoxious odors, grain dust, steam carrying off sulfur, thousands of holding tanks, the first 10 or 15 miles aren't filled with camera shots, or anything Huck may have seen, once you past Marathon and DuPont it's nice till you meet Mr Aluminum plant, everything is tainted in rust, the plant, the road, buildings, everything . Crossing the Spillway is a pleasant sojourn, its the only strip in Louisiana where the speed limit is 400 miles an hour, moccasins sit on the side of the road with a thumb out looking for a ride, the grasshoppers sit in the tall grass large as kangaroos, and empty beer cans keep water off the road.. Montz, beautiful little community, the levee path stops here , so you ride River Road, every 3rd home is a shack surrounded by half million dollar mansions, Little Gypsy power plant, an old reliable landmark, back on the Levee top at the old Bayou Steel plant. I'm feeling great by now, just got into a grove, drank a lot, ate a little, Mp3 player going in both ears, exploding in the middle, how about "Reconsider Baby" written by Lowell Folsom and covered by Joe Bonamassa , blues standard, its at that point your no longer a bicyclist, your a spirit , a paradox, your body and bike meld as one , your mind , your soul are just there for the ride, no matter where, no matter how, no matter when, just for the ride..
Back to River Road, no more levee path, Laplace, Reserve, Garyville, the road is rough, plenty loose rocks, mud, personal relief stations are on the other side of the levee, still feeling great, not much wind for or against. The folks I pass wave back, some look at me like, "look at this nut", but they wave, most vehicles give you a leeway, some pass so close they move the hairs on your leg, mostly cause they can't drive. Let see I've had a banana, raisins, cheese, a few cr jelly beans, 5 Gatorade, feeling great, happy, oh , its the "Happy Song" on the brain phones, gotta dance on the bike seat,,,I plan to turn around at 50 miles, at 45 miles I find the place I'm gonna eat lunch, Manresa Catholic Retreat, beautiful grounds, buildings, large front yard, loungers spread around, kinda looked like a mental institution, across the road were 2 oak lined walks, one very old, big trees, a statue at the end, the other, younger trees, with a crucifix at the end , both securely chained off, less a lesser cafeteria catholic like me come by and try to get closer than I can afford.
I stopped to take a few pictures , a man comes out the gate, waving his hands for me to stop,, it won't be the first time someone tried to stop me taking pictures , it don't work but they try, I turn off Mp3, he was a nice looking man, I looked at his hands right away, smooth, wandering what he wants, he's on River Road with me and begins to tell me the history of Manresa, he comes here every year, a silent retreat for Catholic men, I tell him I'm a Catholic and I know about Manresa, yet he continues, so I say I gotta go , yet he talks, as I'm riding off, he talks, in my rear view mirror he's still talking, then it dawned on me , silent retreat , he had to talk to someone, even a bicyclist on River Road, for no other reason than to talk, so why do you go to a silent retreat if you can't shut up. For a minute I thought maybe he had OCD, but that wasn't possible , he showed me a tattoo of Lucille Ball's face on his back.. I'm on a silent retreat too, that's why I ride alone, not with 50 other riders, I want to be alone. I continue on to the 50 mile mark, return to Manresa, make sure the talker is inside and park my ass under a giant oak tree, outside the chains, relax and eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, beautiful surroundings, 50 miles from home, relaxed, high as a kite, it doesn't get better for me.
Coming home, tailwind, averaging 18 miles per hour, weather still clear and beautiful, I knew my endorphins were running rampant when I look to my left to see I'm being shadowed by a 1952 Chevy Belair , yellow, looked painted with a brush, inside sitting on the bedspread seat cover , behind the steering wheel was Jude Glenn in his Farah Slacks, a pressed tailored collared dress shirt, Penny's penny loafers, attached to his bottom lip was a Kool cigarette, in the passenger seat was non other than Truman Gandhi in his costume, tight legged jeans, black Keds tennis shoes, low tops, a red plaid collared shirt, and that Captains Hat he likes so much , the AM radio was blasting ,, "Try a Little Tenderness" sung by Otis Redding from his Live album, "Otis Redding Live in Europe", they didn't stop just passed by slowly, Truman half sticks his head out the window asking me , "Where you going", I reply, "home", "why are your two here on my ride, shouldn't you be in 1964, " , Truman gives me a cocky "cause you keep bringing us back " . ..What next I wondered,,,????? Made it back to the top of the levee, riding was smoother and safer, no cars, just trucks from the refineries, chemical plants and grain elevators. I'm flying , 18 miles an hour, my long blonde hair flapping behind me, painless, legs pumped up , working like pistons on a freight train, and yes my brain traveling 600 miles an hour, thoughts popping in and out in milliseconds, no subject untouched, I gaze across the river regularly, just for the view change, it changed, I see 3 Pyramids like those in Egypt, that didn't scare me , what scared me was they had ARAMCO signs on the sides. Back to the East Bank, back down to River road, MP3 support equipment playing "Soul Sacrifice" , Santana, the Woodstock version, increases my tempo, temperature, blood pressure, endorphins, revolutions, speed, everything moves faster, with intent, Carlos claims that the Mescaline he took made him think his guitar was a snake trying to bite him, ok Carlos, it looked that way, but sounded great. Thank God for inventing shatter resistant sunglasses, a beetle just hit my left eye, spun my head around, almost knocked me down, exploded on my lens, his yellow insides dripping down my face, that bug was big, I pulled into a nearby gas station, grabbed the windshield washer tool , cleaned my glasses , rinsed off my face.. yuck.....Back on the Levee, I started to count the chubracabra egg nest, mud mounds with the eggs packed in side, sort of like the egg cases in the "Alien",
going to be a big crop this year...I'll buy some extra tags, still trying to get that "Chubracabra Hunter" reality show, no takers yet...Crossed the spillway again, empty, it's getting late, tackled the maze of pipes, tanks, elevators, that are NORCO, New Orleans Refining Company, sulfur laden steam filled the air, I took a big deep breath, isn't sulfur healthy, they use it on wounds on the battlefield, they also use lead bullets to get your attention , that isn't healthy, lead is poisonous, forget about the impact.. Legs still pumping like champions,
plenty energy, food is gone as I approach Kenner, still have 3 Gatorades, in an emergency I can scrape a bottle off my tongue, through Kenner to Metairie made it to the house, 9 hours, it's between 3:30 and 4:00 pm, doesn't really matter, I'm home, did 100 miles, feel good, did my 50 sit ups, went out to eat, relaxed for almost 15 minutes, then on the computer,,,, Some life,,,, Next day "Sunday" did another 35. for good measure... Next trip , ??? want to go to Waveland, about 100 miles,,, swim in the gulf , catch a shark, bring him home on my handle bars, now that's slaying the dragon and returning to the village a hero.......