on Thanksgiving . . .
It was a spectacular morning.
Up and over Hawk Ridge, wondering
why no one else was out and about.
Up Maxwell to the "fruit roads," when . . suddenly . . . fresh Pugsley tracks . . It could be one of many. Lost the tracks back on Maxwell. Up to Strand, over to the Lester River Rd, to Beyer, Evan and Wahl. On Lakewood Jct, the mysterious tracks once again . . .
Fast forward 24 hours . . . still riding alone, 15 miles from the warmth and safety and security of home, I stopped to snap this photo. I noticed a few loose spokes.
Loose spokes and puncture, nothing like a little cold fingered bike repair in the woods.
Fast forward another 24 hours.
Does anyone know where this is?
It's Hwy 61, never hear of Arthur Rohweder before. Neither had I.
My final
misadventure of the four day Thanksgiving weekend: I guess the
road to Brighton Beach was just a bit more ice than I anticipated! Slid about 15 feet on glaze ice that was so slick and clean I did not even get my jacket dirty.
your bike is backwards on the brighton ice!!....
ReplyDelete:))))
Funny Rich, my Pugsly ended up in a similar position on some ice saturday down here!! No slide for me, more of a bodyslam. Ouch, I am getting too old to fall on ice. JP
ReplyDelete