On To Indiana

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June 6, 2013

The drizzling rain I woke to made me want to call in sick today. Not an inviting thought to ride 150 miles in the rain but I told my old friend, Jim, I'd be in his town of Washington, Indiana on this day. We've put off this visit for 41 years and time is running out. Better saddle up.

Due to road spray, riding even in light rain means getting drenched from the knees down. Loose-legged rain pants don't quite solve the problem, which is why I strap on gators and connect them to my gortex lined boots. Once going through the preparation it is actually frustrating if the rain quits. And it did just that by the time I reached Interstate 65 for the short jaunt south to a stretch of highway leading to Radcliff. The road dried but clouds still threatened. Rather than having to go through the rain preparation again I stayed suited, locked in humid warmth, only tolerable if I kept moving. 

I've heard about Fort Knox all my life but never thought I'd be there. And I wasn't. But according to road signs I was passing right by it, somewhere. Never saw a speck of gold. Another item of interest I passed right by and might have stopped to look at if more convenient was the General George Patton Museum.

By the time I reached the town of Brandenburg the fact I hadn't eaten breakfast gave rise to the mental debate on whether to stop and un-suit for a restaurant stop, only to have to re-suit for more rain down the road. I compromised, stopping in a spot of shade and wolfing down a granola bar, chased by a few swigs from my water bottle. I motored on sweat free.

My chosen route took me through lots towns and every hoped for green light was red. I wondered if my decision to avoid Interstates was such a wise choice. Soon however, I crossed the Ohio River and a few miles farther north was a left turn onto 75-mph Interstate 64. The miles flew by.

I've never been to Indiana but always imagined it flat as a pancake and low in elevation. I was surprised when the GPS told me the hills I was rolling through were averaging 600 to 800 feet and some might have topped 1000 feet. The terrain did start to drop and flatten out by the time I took the Ferdinand exit and stopped for lunch at a handy, crowd-free Wendy's. From there it was 42 miles to Washington on the farm-bordered two-lane leading through Ferdinand, Jasper and Otwell.

I checked into Theroff's Motel on the east side of Washington and gave Jim Dant a call. Soon afterward he was knocking on the door of my room and, after 41 years, we were once again in face to face conversation. Though we'd already become reacquainted via telephone over the past few months, it was a monumental moment to finally meet once again. The years had erased the skinny kid images we projected when we were 22 years old but the personalities and voice inflections hadn't changed much and it wasn't long until we felt we'd never been apart.

Jim took me to his home where I met his wife, Terri, and daughter Britney who'd stopped by with grandbaby Lucy to accompany us to dinner at the town's favored Mexican Restaurant where we all enjoyed a "get acquainted" conversation and Jim and I made plans for tomorrow's excursion in the nearby countryside. 

Terri reminded Jim we needed to be at Britney's home by 3 p.m. for an arranged newspaper interview regarding the momentous occasion of our being reunited after 41 years. It was a chore neither Jim nor I looked forward to but, given the importance Terri and Britney affixed to it, we played along.

Bardstown, Kentucky to Washington, Indiana (155 Miles)