June 3, 2024: Difference between revisions

From Gerald R. Lucas
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{{jt|title=Macon to Laurel, MS}}
{{jt|title=Macon to Laurel, MS}}


{{dc|S}}{{start|omewhere in western Alabama,}} a pretty heavy storm cloud blocked my way. I stopped and put on my rain gear and was soon in the middle of the deluge. I don’t mind a bit of rain as long as I’m prepared—which I was, but heavy and incessant downpours are not fun. This one was heavy at first, but tampered off. The sun appeared as I crossed the border into Mississippi.
{{dc|S}}{{start|omewhere in western Alabama,}} a pretty heavy storm cloud blocked my way. I stopped and put on my rain gear and was soon in the middle of the deluge. I don’t mind a bit of rain as long as I’m prepared—which I was, but heavy and incessant downpours are not fun. This one was heavy at first, but tapered off to drizzles. The sun appeared like Helios himself made the command as I crossed the border into Mississippi.
[[File:20240603-GRL-MGL.jpeg|thumb|500px|I got some good love from Max before leaving.]]
[[File:20240603-GRL-MGL.jpeg|thumb|500px|I got some good love from Max before leaving.]]
I’ve had better rides. It’s not that the ride itself was bad, but my head wasn’t in it. I decided to ride to Austin for my fellowship, like I did a couple of years ago for the Society conference in New Jersey, but unlike in 2022, the build-up to my departure did not mentally prepare me to leave. I’m not sure why, but I’m distracted.
I’ve had better rides. It’s not that the ride itself was bad, but my head wasn’t in it. I decided to ride to Austin for my fellowship, like [[June 5, 2022|I did a couple of years ago]] for the Society conference in New Jersey, but unlike in 2022, the build-up to my departure did not mentally prepare me to leave. I’m not sure why, but I’m distracted.


It didn’t help, either, that I decided to top off my tank first-thing. For some reason the GPS was taking me down Zebulon, so I stopped at a gas station west of I-475. And I could not get the {{GS}}’ gas cap open. The tank was half-full, so there was likely some pressure built up in the tank, but no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get the damn thing open. ''It’s not too late to take the Tesla'', I thought, beginning to sweat in my helmet. A quick Google search gave me a couple of suggestions to try—though carrying a Torx wrench to loosen the bolts around the gas cap was not too helpful. Finally after about ten minutes, the tank opened and I topped off the tank. Still, this made me wonder if I should ride.
It didn’t help, either, that I decided to top off my tank first-thing. For some reason the GPS was taking me down Zebulon, so I stopped at a gas station west of I-475. And I could not get the {{GS}}’ gas cap open. The tank was half-full, so there was likely some pressure built up in the tank, but no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get the damn thing open. ''It’s not too late to take the Tesla'', I thought, beginning to sweat in my helmet. A quick Google search gave me a couple of suggestions to try—though carrying a Torx wrench to loosen the bolts around the gas cap was not too helpful. Finally after about ten minutes, the tank opened and I topped off the tank. Still, this made me wonder if I should ride.

Latest revision as of 19:55, 5 June 2024

Macon to Laurel, MS

Somewhere in western Alabama, a pretty heavy storm cloud blocked my way. I stopped and put on my rain gear and was soon in the middle of the deluge. I don’t mind a bit of rain as long as I’m prepared—which I was, but heavy and incessant downpours are not fun. This one was heavy at first, but tapered off to drizzles. The sun appeared like Helios himself made the command as I crossed the border into Mississippi.

I got some good love from Max before leaving.

I’ve had better rides. It’s not that the ride itself was bad, but my head wasn’t in it. I decided to ride to Austin for my fellowship, like I did a couple of years ago for the Society conference in New Jersey, but unlike in 2022, the build-up to my departure did not mentally prepare me to leave. I’m not sure why, but I’m distracted.

It didn’t help, either, that I decided to top off my tank first-thing. For some reason the GPS was taking me down Zebulon, so I stopped at a gas station west of I-475. And I could not get the BMW R 1200 GS’ gas cap open. The tank was half-full, so there was likely some pressure built up in the tank, but no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get the damn thing open. It’s not too late to take the Tesla, I thought, beginning to sweat in my helmet. A quick Google search gave me a couple of suggestions to try—though carrying a Torx wrench to loosen the bolts around the gas cap was not too helpful. Finally after about ten minutes, the tank opened and I topped off the tank. Still, this made me wonder if I should ride.

Leaving the station, I got to this roundabout on Thomaston, and a Jeep totally ignored me and pulled out right in front of me. Just a mile further, a Subaru was driving in my lane. If I were superstitious, I might have turned around right then.

For some reason, too, the GPS was taking me in what I felt was a strange route, through Americus and even further south. The day progressed like that, as it directed me in what felt like a circuitous way through the belt line of Alabama. I hit small patches of light rain, and the temperature fluctuated between the upper-70s and mid-80s. Nothing too bad nor too exciting.

By midafternoon, the clouds in the west began to threaten. I rode through the storm for the last 50-or-so miles of Alabama and into Mississippi. I removed my rain gear, and less than an hour later, I pulled in to Laurel, MS. I rode though downtown and recognized a couple of buildings, but it was crowded and I was tired, so I checked in to a hotel and called it a day.

Not riding for a while and then doing a marathon (about 400 miles) is not a good idea. Still, I made it and spent the evening rehydrating. I have another 400 miles tomorrow to get to Livingston, TX.

I wish I could say more about Laurel, MS, as Autumn regretted that she couldn’t visit with me. However, I was in no mood to sightsee this time, so maybe she and I can come back later. It seemed a pleasant enough town, but being on my bike was an inconvenience for anything further today. Funny, it seemed very little like the Laurel presented in Home Town.