A smile, always
One summer about 13 years ago, I decided to test myself.
My family was scheduled to drop off my youngest offspring at Wildwood, a nature camp run by Massachusetts Audubon, located in Rindge, New Hampshire. Getting there from my home in the Boston suburb of Arlington, Massachusetts would mean a beautiful 65-mile drive through hills, forests, and charming little towns in central Massachusetts.
Bringing a kid and all their gear would, of course, require a car. But I wondered, could I get there by bicycle? This would mean six-plus hours of pedaling according to Google Maps, including a vertical climb of 1300 feet. I knew that, given my experience with long bike rides and my own physical limitations, it would likely take me at least eight hours. But if I planned and timed it right, I could arrive at the camp a little before the rest of my family in the car. We’d drop off the kid, relax a bit, and then mount the bike on the back of the car for the ride back.
The weather was perfect. The scenery was fantastic, with quaint scenery, waterfalls, and relaxed places to take a pit stop. I was about 15 minutes ahead of my family as I wearily crested the last hill and coasted down and into a packed dirt road leading into the camp.
Just inside the entrance, a young woman stood with a clipboard greeting arrivals. I smiled as I pulled up next to her, sore and a bit sweaty but happy to be at the end of my journey.
She smiled back and asked me the name of my camper, then checked the name on the sign-in sheet. “Did they ride here with you?” she asked.
That was just too great of an opportunity to miss.
I turned around, looked at the empty rack on the back of the bike, and feigned surprise. “Oh my gosh,” I said, “I think they fell off somewhere back there.”
She was horrified. For just a second.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be along shortly,” I said and wheeled over to the parking area to wait for my wife and kids to arrive.
Anything is survivable
What I really wanted was a cold drink. But when an opportunity like that arrives, you cannot let it pass you by.
I’ve experienced some pretty challenging things in my life. But my sense of humor has never deserted me.
Don’t give up. And never get so sore that you can’t make a joke out of it.
Heh, shades of Bill Engvall. I heard, “Here’s your sign” in my head as I read what she asked you.
The image of the two signs (seemingly contradictory, or else New Ipswich is a very skinny town) reminds of another pair of signed I saw in the woods north of Ellsworth, Maine, decades ago. The rural route I was driving sloped downhill as it approached a small bridge over a stream. First, an orange sign propped on the road’s shoulder stated, “WORK AREA.” About fifty feet beyond that was the entrance to a little turnout adjacent to the stream, with a fixed Maine Parks & Recreation sign that stated, “REST AREA.”