The forecast called for 70-degree temperatures. How could I not want to go for a ride?
“Uh . . . listen to that wind,” Bugman said, as the swiftly-moving air wooshed through the neighborhood trees and clanked the vents on our rooftop.
“I don’t care! We’re going!”
If we waited for a non-windy day in western Nebraska, we’d never get to ride!
Besides, it’s good training for Cycle Greater Yellowstone.
Or so I told myself.
The winds during our ride between 12:15 – 2:45 p.m. were clocked at a sustained SW 18-28 MPH, gusting to 36 MPH.
That was pretty miserable. We could only manage speeds of 6 – 11 MPH.
“Reminds me of our ride into Ennis,” I shouted into the wind.
“Yeah,” Bugman said halfheartedly, his reply barely audible as it flew past my ears at 30 miles per hour.
Only 9 more miles to Mitchell, our destination for this ride.
Finally! We made it to the top of the hill and South Mitchell Road!
The ride down the other side of the hill was a little dicey, as now the gusty wind was hitting us from the side, threatening to toss us into the ditch.
“It’s really hard to steer,” Bugman hollered.
I tried to make myself as small as possible to catch less wind. We rode smack in the middle of the lane to lessen the danger of unintentional off-roading and were grateful for the cars that pulled all the way into the other lane to pass us. We sure needed that maneuvering room!
. . . spotted from the North Platte River bridge, the eponymous turkeys of this post:
We saw at least seven birds, but there were probably more, hiding in the wooded riverbank. On the return trip, several of the birds were still there, camped out in the shade. I guess a 70-degree day gets warm if you’re covered with dark feathers.
Our destination in Mitchell on this day: Hometown Harvest Cooperative, for a bit of grocery shopping. We’d put pannier bags onto the bike to hold our haul. I forgot to take a picture! So I will instead post a photo of the front of the store, pulled from their Facebook page:
On the way home, we had to stop to readjust our bags, as the line of sight to my rearview mirror was blocked.
A man driving in the opposite direction pulled to a stop.
“Have a breakdown?”
“No. Just readjusting the cargo.”
“I haven’t seen one of those in years. Is it new?”
“We bought it last year.”
“But is it new?”
“How fast goes it go?”
On this day, with the wind at our backs, homeward on Highway 92?
. . . 38 miles per hour
Copyright 2014 by Katie Bradshaw