Tom's Turkey Ride and Autumn Miscellany

Overexposed and overprocessed sweet gum tree

19 November 2016

With nine people on his ride today, Tom brought out the Holy Kickstand and performed his blessing of the bikes. 

In Bordentown, a flock of turkey vultures perched on the roof of a retirement home.

Axe Factory Road, closed, as it always is, at least has fresh blacktop north of the bridge.  That's an improvement.

At 21 miles, we stopped at a park to use the outhouse. We had to ride onto a gravel driveway to get there. Tom and Jim declared that this counted as riding on a dirt road, therefore satisfying the two criteria for a Tom ride. I wasn't convinced that a driveway should count.

Our rest stop, 32 miles into the 55-mile ride, was at the Wawa in Pemberton. Outside was a group of kids collecting money for their new Won by One basketball team. We tossed dollar bills into their buckets, talked to the coach, and learned just how expensive it is to outfit an after-school activity. The kids weren't shy at all about talking to us and asking about our bikes. We weren't shy at all about answering them.

We made it all the way to the end of the ride without incident, injury, or a depletion of riders. 

Tom is attempting to eliminate single variables from the Synapse curse: He was in Gettysburg with his Synapse and Jack H (nothing happened); he was with only me and our Synapses in Bucks County (nothing happened); and now he was with me, Jack H, and no Synapses (nothing happened).  I'm still going with the multiplicative synergy of hills, two Synapses, and other people's bikes, for the curse to function properly.

When I got out of the car at home, one of my neighbors from across the street came over to talk to me, distraught about the election. We talked for half an hour. 

Later in the afternoon, as the sun was low in the sky, it lit up another neighbor's sweet gum tree.

That reminded me of the handful of autumn photos on my phone, which I will present here as a distraction to reality.


A storm rolling in from the north over my neighborhood in October:

Later that week, fall colors on campus:

In my back yard, the hostas have taken over. In late October, they began to die back for the winter:

In September, I planted two azaleas that bloom in the spring and fall:

On the campus path into the lab on a foggy morning:

Another neighbor's maple tree, lit up by the morning sun:

The little Japanese maple that I planted a few years ago turned a brilliant red this fall:

And, finally, the purple glass pumpkin I bought in Corning, which I like even more now that it's been in the house for a while: