The Slugs See it Through

 

Red-Tailed Hawk, Pennington, NJ

17 April 2021

Plain Jim scolds me. It's been six weeks since I've uploaded a blog post.

I haven't set aside time to write. Instead, I've been biking, working, working out, blowing glass, and, on Friday nights, Zooming with the Hill Slugs. Tom started this a year ago. He wanted us to keep in touch, and wanted to make sure we'd all stay sane. When the world shut down, none of us knew how far apart we needed to be from each other; it was so early on that we thought we could get each other sick from ten feet away outside, riding in each other's exhalation stream. At such distance, we couldn't hold conversations, so our Friday Zoom sessions took the place of that. Maybe some of us knew it at the time, but a year later it's obvious that we were holding each other together. 

Bob enrolled in a J&J vaccine trial in November. He got a shot that made him feel a little off for a day, but not until March did he find out he'd received the real thing. Jim was next, early in the mass vaccine days, when his employer offered the Moderna shot. We watched him fall asleep on camera one Friday night after his second dose. Mighty Mike got his because the homeless shelter he works with vaccinated their volunteers. I started to lose my mind with vaccine envy when my husband got his Pfizer jab. A week later, a generous colleague put me on a leftover dose list and then told me about it. I got my first Moderna shot the next day. Ricky got his first Moderna jab a day later. That left Jack H, Pete, and Tom. Soon after, I got word from colleagues that there were extra doses at a middle school in Hamilton. I texted a few Slugs, and Tom and Martin got their first Pfizer vaccines there that day. Meanwhile, Jack H and Pete scored appointments. We're all cooking away now, and in a matter of weeks we'll all be able to stand less than six feet apart from each other. 

We've been fortunate: none of us got sick. I was the only one in the gang leaving the house for work (half the Slugs are retired anyway), and also the only one being tested every week. The pandemic isn't over, not by a long shot. But the Slugs are safer and saner than we were at this time last year.

So, anyway, where were we? Mid-March? Spring had started happening by then.

I led some rides, but instead of taking pictures, I recorded the rides on my headlight camera so that I could upload them to Rouvy, for rainy-day workouts. I'm not sure any of the Slugs noticed that I rarely stopped for photos.

We went to Sergeantsville on one of those rides. I chose a route with more hills than necessary. 

Buds had appeared on trees.

Somewhere in Hunterdon County there's a barn and an aging car. 

This hawk was watching us as we were almost back to Twin Pines in Pennington. That's where I'm starting my rides, now that the Pig is no more.

We did our annual pilgrimage to Factory Fuel for coffee in Flemington. It's still open. There's still too much traffic. 

These trees are at the bottom of Rileyville Road, where it intersects with Wertsville Road. 

So's this barn.

I didn't stop for the cows on Reaville Road; I stopped for horses instead.

We hadn't been up to Factory Fuel since the week before the world shut down. The building has since been repainted an unsightly gray. The coffee and pastries are still good though. 

A week later, Tom took us on a flat ride from Bordentown to Vincentown. Somewhere along the way, we encountered a bridge out. 

Like that was gonna stop us.

I don't know why I took this picture. I think we were at a red light.

This is a tree.

We were on our way back to Bordentown, on one of those long, slightly uphill roads, when we saw the cows and had to stop to admire their headgear.

One of the two calves got curious and stood up.

I've been blowing glass a lot. Enrollment is down, so we all have the chance to fill in empty slots in order to make sure everyone has a partner. When I get tired or frustrated, I go back to making giant ornaments. I have a lot of giant ornaments. I hung some of them outside. When we can all gather again, I'm going to give away small and large ornaments as party favors. I have several dozen little ones inside.

Ron M led a towpath ride from Washington Crossing on a Sunday. It seemed like the perfect chance to see how well Fozzie would handle the road and the mushy gravel path. I set out from home on Fozzie and met the group at the towpath. 

We went south first, passing the I-95 pedestrian bridge construction:

We went into Trenton, taking the paved path along the river towards the Calhoun Street Bridge. I like riding through the city. I like the architecture and the strange little things along the way:

We took our obligatory bridge and river pictures:

Let sleeping ducks lie.

It was spring enough for daffodils on the PA side of the river.

I got my second shot on April 5.

That afternoon, I felt a little dizzy, and by the time I got to my evening glassblowing session, I was feeling stoned. I figured it could go one of two ways: either I'd be so sloppy I'd be hazardous; or I'd be so relaxed that I'd pull off feats I'd otherwise be too afraid to attempt. It was the latter. I made some good stuff that night. I felt achy and tired, and even had a little fever the next day, but by Wednesday I was completely over it and high-strung in class as usual.

On April 8, as I was riding Rowlf through campus, on my way home from work, an undergrad came flying around what was for him a blind corner -- the same one where Beaker met her end -- on his bike and slammed into me, taking out my front wheel. The first thing he said was that it was totally his fault, which it was. I have the video. The first thing I said was, "You're buying me a new wheel and you're calling me an Uber." He did both, and I'm no longer taking that particular campus path. One time is coincidence. Two times isn't.

No Hill Slug worth his salt will let a good crash go to waste. When Tom led his ride two days later, he brought with him the Holy Kickstand, this time shrouded in bubble wrap and wearing a mask.

The Holy Brita Water has been replaced by Purell.

We were headed west towards Nesshanic. We did stop for cows. These are on Clover Hill Road where it meets Amwell Road.

She wears a bow.

We've had a lot of murky days. This is the view from Higginsville Road, looking west.

We were nearly back to Rocky Hill when we decided to explore the closed section of the Hillsborough Bypass at Route 206.

Jack H was our scout. 

We saw a van pull up on the other side. Jack H tried to get the driver's attention, but at that point, he was most of the way across anyhow. The van moved off and Jack H waved us through.

That brings us to today. I led a ride from Pennington with five Slugs and Albert P, an import from Plain Jim's Usual Suspects. 

I was being a total asshole: I had no planned route, and I put in some hills that really didn't need to be there. Like Province Line northbound from Cherry Valley, which I got to by a sinuous choice of roads that had everyone guessing.

As soon as it was clear we'd be taking Province Line, Jim spouted invective at me, wishing me a death that would not be pain-free. To which I responded, "Bless your heart."

The guys got ahead of me right away on Province Line. As I was rounding the first corner, a woman walking her dog said, "They're beating you!" No shit, Sherlock. Bless her heart.

We rode westward across the Sourland ridge to Rocktown Road, where it crosses Route 31. Jim began his ritual Latin dirge that has always seen us safely across. We were halfway through the intersection when I saw a black SUV too close in my rearview mirror. It was barreling towards us and made a sharp turn into our path. The driver leapt out and began yelling, "Who gave me the finger?!?" My first thought was to record the incident, but my second thought overrode that: the Angry White Man might have a gun.

I had no idea who'd given him the finger. All I knew was that it's not wise to tangle with an Angry White Man in Hunterdon County. Bob and Ricky had stopped. "Go! Go! Move!" I called out, and hustled the Slugs out of there, around the corner. The driver had gotten back into his car and was following us. I signaled a turn onto Gulick, figuring he might not want to zigzag so much. I stopped to let him pass, which he did, and we turned. I wanted to put as much distance between the Angry White Man and ourselves as possible. 

Gulick Road

It took a minute to regroup there and figure out exactly what had happened, at which point I realized that Albert was missing. Ricky and Pete went back to look for him while Jim and I left texts and voicemail on his phone. Ricky and Pete came back without Albert, just as my phone rang.

"I didn't make it across," he said, but he'd seen what had happened. He didn't get across in time to see us turn, had gone straight, and was waiting for us at the high school. "Stay where you are," I said, and we turned around to go meet him.

The person who had given the Angry White Man the finger for accelerating towards us instead of slowing down will probably have his own blog post or two about it. I figure he's feeling about eighteen different types of guilt right now, so I'll leave it to him.

We caught up with Albert, and I took the group up some more unnecessary hills to get to Lambertville. I explained to Jim that I like to front-load my rides with hills and distance. The second half should always be easier.

Paul I had posted about a new coffee shop in Lambertville, as if the handful there already weren't enough. This one is Union Coffee, and it was well worth the stop. The inside is spacious. There were folks in there eating, which gave me the heebie-jeebies. I'm not ready for indoor dining, Moderna in my blood or not. There's a spacious bathroom. There's a decent selection of sugary carbs, and the coffee menu goes on and on. We sat outside, where there isn't much room to sit. It started to rain a little. There were pretty dogs coming and going. Lambertville is a good place for dog-watching. 

Jim asked if we were going up Franklin to get home. Not having a route in mind, I said "sure," and we did, because that hill is completely unnecessary too. 

The reward is a view of the river valley, with Pennsylvania in the distance. 

Taking this road out of Lambertville cuts off a bunch of miles, so I had to do the circuitous route thing to get us home, throwing in a few more inclines for good measure. 

We got back to Twin Pines without further incident. The sky looked as if it wanted to rain again. Jim is leading a ride tomorrow. He promises it'll be flat and slow. Yeah, right.

On one side of my driveway, redbud trees and violets are blooming.

I just received an email from the New Jersey vaccine scheduling system. They've got a slot for me! How exciting! I unsubscribed. They're 7 weeks too late.