Whenever possible, I like to brag about someone who I think
accomplished something extraordinary.
This time it’s about a family friend and “snowbird” whom we meet every
couple of years in Florida. We usually
try to plan some outdoor activity such as kayaking in Ocala National Forest or
skydiving at Deland airport. This year the
event was a bike ride across Florida from Deland to “the Villages” just north
of Orlando. I had originally planned a
100-mile loop for my brother-in-law and me, but decided to cut it back to 50
miles when this family friend asked to join.
You see, he is 74 years young, never rode a bike more than a couple of
blocks, and rented a hybrid for the journey.
He’s the middle guy in the picture. Normally, I tell these bicyclists
just to go home and not to attempt something this crazy.
Nevertheless, before heading out I checked him out with
family members that knew him better than I.
They told me that he could
probably do the ride, and would die trying before giving up. However, I said, “Stick close to the phone
just in case we needed an emergency pickup.”
The route I mapped traveled along the southern edge of the
Ocala National Forest, was a two-lane road with a 55-mph speed limit, and had
an 18-inch shoulder. It was relatively
isolated with three tiny burgs along the way.
Again, this scenario was not ideal for a first-time bicyclist. Regardless, he was not intimidated. He grumbled a couple of times about my road
choice, but was not about to change his mind.
I offered encouragement by explaining the “turtle philosophy” – not to
worry, it’s the journey and not the destination that mattered and that we would
stop as often as necessary to insure all riders are comfortable. However, I wasn’t quite prepared for what
that was going to entail.
At 9:30 we started out at a decent pace. Originally, I had planned to average 19-mph,
since the route was relatively flat, but with a new bicyclist I cutback and
estimated a 4-1/2-hour journey, allowing 30 minutes for a lunch break. Also, in true “turtle style” I planned stops
for Kodak-moments. Instead of turtle
pictures, we got alligator pictures. Even
with adjustment the timing took longer than expected.
I rode along at about 16-mph until I couldn’t see my other
two companions. I would then stop and wait
for them to catch-up and, again in true “turtle style,” let the last one to
join the rest stop decide when the group moved again. Unexpectedly, that meant stopping every two
or three miles. I also hadn’t planned a
cigar break. On most of my past turtle
rides, the participants didn’t light up during the pedal, but how could I refuse? He rode along without a single complaint or
crab and, when asked, he was always “doing fine.”
It took us seven hours to get to our destination – an
outside table in the Village Square with a margarita in hand. However, once we did get to “the Villages” we
continued “touring and photographing” in true turtle style. So, one must add
that delay into our elapsed time. With
seventeen golf courses “the Villages” have a vast network of golf-cart roads,
which we now traveled instead of battling motorists. But, I am not sure which is more dangerous –
dodging hundreds of golf-carts on their way to “happy hour” and driven by
retirees with cataracts or avoiding the couple of dozen high-speed motorists
who could at least see us.
It turned out to be a great adventure. I felt it necessary
to reward my companions who never said anything but “I’m doing fine,” by buying
several rounds of margaritas. However,
in true “Tennessee style” I substituted “Jack” for the tequila. The moral of this story is: being 74-years-young
is not too late to start riding a bike.
It just takes commitment and a very positive attitude.
3 comments:
Well said...
Inspired as usual - It's always about the journey, otherwise, we'd just take a car.
AWESOME!!
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