Cape May Low Point

Blueberries, somewhere between Smithville and Batsto

2 November 2015

(In keeping with the off-kilter mood of this post, the formatting refuses to align left no matter what I do. Welcome to free verse blogging, I guess.)

I)  31 October, in the wee hours:

This sofa bed sucks.  It's lumpy and bouncy and slanted and after constantly waking up to back pain, I'm standing up, pulling off the sheets, folding the bed back into a sofa, laying the sheets down, and attempting to sleep on top.  I have a tough enough time recovering as it is; tomorrow's ride (maybe it's tomorrow already) is going to suck.  Thank goodness for the extra hour tonight.  I need it.  That's better.  Not great, but better. I think I can sleep like this.

II)  1 November, 8:30 a.m.:

We're starting from Smithville.  There's a slight delay as we wait for a flock of geese to cross.

We met these fellas last year too:

Today the clouds are thick.  There's a strong breeze, too. The air feels clammy.  The light is gloomy in the way that only winter light can be.

In the first 5.5 miles I've taken off my arm warmers and my leggings.

Tom is watching his GPS.  He pulls us over when it reads 100 feet below sea level. We might as well get a picture.  I put my camera on the ground and click the shutter without aiming at anything in particular.  I capture Kermit's wheel, some of Jim's Yellow Maserati and his left foot, and Tom in the background.

I'm trying not to whine too much.  Jim says I'm nearing Cheryl territory, so I clam up.

We're mostly away from the water today and in the woods instead, in the Pinelands, where we can see remnants of controlled burns. Some of the oaks are turning red, but most have gone brown.

Tom takes us to a redneck deli for our rest stop.  This is the first time (and, I hope, the last) that we'll ever have to ask for a key to a port-a-potty.

A camouflage truck pulls up, its bed loaded with pumpkins. The driver and two kids spill out. I ask if I can take pictures.

I know this is going to turn out to look like every autumn picture plastered on every autumn sale ad ever, but I have to take it anyway, because who can resist a warty pumpkin?:

We're making good time today.  "It's because we're not stopping so much for pictures," Jack H says. 

I glower at him, grinning a little.  "I don't know why you ride with us."  

This leads to a discussion of the monotony of weekend Cranbury rides.

We're next to a blueberry field, the leaves turning red.

When we pull out onto the road again, we pass the rest of the farm, acres and acres of rows of red.

We pick up the pace as we near the end of the ride. Jack H and Ed zoom so far off the front that we can't see them.  Jim is with them at the beginning, but fades back to stay with me and Tom.

"I know you wanna chase 'em," I tell him, "But you're too polite." Jim always dances with them what bring him.

"He's such a gentleman," I tell Tom.

"Shut up, bitch," Jim says.

We catch up to Ed and Jack as Ed is stuffing his jacket into his panier.  He wants to take us on a detour of his grandparents' neighborhood in Port Republic. Whatever.  He points out a levee, fresh water on one side, salt water on the other. He stops to take pictures of the old house.

Minutes later we're back in Smithville.  It's not even 1:00. The parking lot is so crowded now that people are eyeing us to see if we're about to leave. We're not.  I'm going to change into street clothes first. Tom's going to stop into one of the bakeries.

Half an hour later we're on the road.  I'll be back in plenty of time to fetch the new Miss Piggy from Hart's.

At each turn on the way back home, Tom and I try to guess where my iPhone GPS is going to send us next. We end up on Route 539, passing through the Pygmy Pine Plains, and then New Egypt and Cream Ridge.

We devise a route for next Saturday to test out the new frame. Oldwick via Parsonage Lot.


III) 1 November, 3:30 p.m.

She looks much better in person. I think I got the one frame design from Cannondale that doesn't look like a friggin' billboard.  I ought to be putting her peripherals back on right now, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. And there's the matter of laundry to do and food shopping and chores that stacked up while I was out playing. And I've got to get the blog photos up. And shower. I'm all sticky.