|
as a new cyclist living in El Paso, TX in the mid-70s, one of my most memorable rides was a not-so-well-planned solo adventure.
loaded my recently-purchased Motobecane Grand Touring (a college grad present to myself) in the beater Datsun truck and drove east for an hour to a state park which featured a large granite formation that was an Apache stronghold bitd.
at the entrance to the park, I kitted up (cut-off levi shorts, fluorescent green Adidas running shoes, some crochet-backed gloves), packed some edibles in the Blackburn handlebar bag, and departed.
the ride began with several miles of challenging climbs into the Hueco Mountains...vividly recall the day...sunny, intense cloudless blue skies, vistas that went forever. and except for my exhalations and the occasional sounds of cactus wrens (my favorite bird call), there was absolute silence. so exhilarating!
once thru the climbs and up on the plateau, there was a completely empty highway stretching miles to the horizon. a half-hour of pedaling brought me to a Border Patrol checkpoint...after stating my citizenship, had an short chat with the two agents who were pretty convinced I was a lunatic for being in the middle of nowhere on a bike.
left the checkpoint, held a brisk pace and rode on reveling in the feeling of total freedom...no responsibilities, no worries of any kind...a fabulous sensation. felt like I could ride forever...
finally decided it was time to consider turning around...and as soon as I did, encountered a headwind that would gain strength with every pedal stroke for the next few hours.
my previously 'sporty' speed instantly dropped to single digits and a tortuous grind ensued for what seemed like an eternity. some of the climbs that I previously attacked with gusto were simply brutal.
finally reached my truck and collapsed in a heap...legs were destroyed, feet were numb, felt nauseous, and had a bloody crotch from the cut-off shorts. felt like crying, but was too tired...
best of times, worst of times...but, it's a ride I'll always remember.
|