Biker 7: April 2015

Finally the weather seemed like cooperating,,, got up at 6 am. hit the street before 7,
sunshine, perfect temperature, clear skies, felt great, decided to try 100. Not really in shape for it but I've learned at this point it's more mental than physical, Its a Zen thing, I'm mentally ready, the body has no choice but to come along. Packed 12 Gatorades, 3 pbj's, protein juice, cookies, jello, trail mix,cheese, all the important stuff, first aid kit, tools, poncho, compass, plenty sandwich bags in case it sprinkles... Aired my tires, lubed my chain, packed , I'm gone,...To the river , which is a little high, rode the river levee through Norco,sucked up sulfur in case I have an infection, through the dust bowl, was sprayed with water to keep the dust down, love the smell of grain dust in the morning , smells like victory, , till you light a match, then the spillway... Wasn't sure of status, if the road is closed I'll have to go to Airline Hwy, cross the bridge over the spillway, bad thoughts, it's a ride of death, , luckily reaching the edge of the spillway I see the road has some water on it, but is still open..Shoot down the levee, travel the road below, I note the model airplane people have picked up their bathrooms, tables, and are prepared for a flooding, the water is flowing through but hasn't covered the road one side to the other anywhere, I take my normal route, railroad road to Airline , its there the vultures are in session picking times for a pool on when I'll be available, up to Old Hwy 51, through the beautiful neighborhood under the interstate, my first goal, Hwy 51 north, a long lonely desolate abandoned highway, plenty of wildlife, dead frogs, dead opossums, dead racoons, dead snakes, dead vultures, dead gangsters, dead turtles, dead alligators, dead crickets, dead beer cans, dead tires... It's an easy ride, it's a long ride, the scenery doesn't change till Manchac Pass. Manchac pass connects lake Maurapaus with Lake Pontchartrain, Hwy 51 bridge over the pass is very tall, very narrow and it's railings very low, I always stop atop, take pictures, it's a neat place to see as far as you can see.About 5 miles pass the bridge is 50 miles from home , turnaround point , my phone is buzzing, need a break anyway, it's a weather warning, severe thunderstorm in Pontchatoula,, 4 miles north of where I'm standing , headed south east.,that's me, time to go , feeling sprinkles, stopped again to put mp3 in sandwich bag, telephone in neck bag, all is sealed , ready for what's in store, I could smell it, I could sense it in the wind, animals sought shelter, trees fluttered , boats swayed, tumbleweeds came rolling by, a weather channel van drove by, I knew I was in for it,, reaching the Manchac bridge, I note the top is not matching the dark clouds, it's like a flourscent white, I have no choice , I have to cross this bridge to go home, the sprinkle is now rain , just rain , I shift to lower gears and start up the bridge, no traffic, the world left me there to die alone, as I breach the top, all is white, the cross wind blows me to the left lane, I assume a low profile returning to the right side, hail , driven rain pelt me,I'm facing a white wall of wind,rain, hail, debris, fear, I squint my eyes and punch through it , punching through it was across the bridge top aiming for the park below, suddenly a cow flew by, nice Guernsey, piece of a boat, an acoustic guitar signed by Darren Murphy, a baseball card picturing the 1964 Pittsburgh Pirates, an aluminum lawn chair with green netting, and a Ravi Shankar album cover..I dodged them all and worked my way to the bottom of the bridge aiming for the little shelter of the lakeside park, as I roll on to flat ground I was glad to see Truman Gandhi in his rain poncho swinging a keroscene lantern directing me to the shelter, his rain hat covered his face but his glowing eyes were visible , scary but reassuring. The little shelter did little to stop the elements from pounding me like a under inflated football . I relaxed a few minutes, absorbed the trauma, decided to capitalize , I'm drenched, lightening missed me twice, the wind is blowing my direction 30 miles an hour, get on the bike , get on the highway, swept away , flying on highway 51, knocked out 10 miles in no time, the driving rain was inconsequential , I approached the Rudock boat launch , another storm approached, white wind, solid rain, parallel rain , I stopped under I-55 with a group of scared travelers whom exited the interstate and sought shelter under it, this amazed me since I was on a bike, a young couple on a motorcycle, pretty young skinny blonde girl, her driver in sloppy jeans, tattoos all over, skulls everywhere, partially bald, chains on his belt loop not connected to anything, scuffed up work boots, smoking a cheap cigarette, I wanted to say "what?", but didn't , her tight jeans worn where they rub the motorcycle, her heavy leather sandals, shiney teeth, a dirty sweatshirt, but a face of raw beauty, her eyes that had a story to tell of life before the guy standing next to her, she told me they were on the way to Tennessee, I noted a tent strapped to the cycle, he regretted the weather but both were very accepting, nice to talk to , I wished them the best, suddenly a giant lady from a van approached me, she was bewildered, "where was I going ?" , she asked, "back home to Metairie" I replied, " how far you riding", she fired back, "100 miles", I was getting scared , I think she could throw me over a fence if she wanted to , she ask one last question, "how old are you?", "64" I meekly answer, she bowed her head down , shook it in awe , and recited "Oh my God", all the way back to the van, by now the rain was a heavy drizzle, I bid them goodbye, jumped on my bike scooted down the highway, once the wind died a lengthy death the ride was nice, cool, refreshing, crossed Laplace eagerly searching for home, atop the river levee the air was fresh, clean, the rain washed away all the sins of big business, cleansed my soul a little as well, off the levee I began watching the odometer, had to take a few extra turns to make sure I got those 100 miles in,,,, as usual my neighborhood , family , friends had assembled at my house with banners, flags, food, drink, cheers, to celebrate my triumphant return, someone handed me a bow to slay suitors that assembled in my absence, I think it was my son Telemachus , not Telamackus. The perfect bike ride, filled with hardship, adventure, brushes with death, excitement , struggle, interest and a little exercise,,,,
gary......