On the advice of a local guy who chatted me up at the Post Office this morning, we rode a fresh route. The nice man gave us excellent directions, those born of an experienced cyclist. We enjoyed a twenty-one mile ride on a road as quiet as the Western Front. We followed a small river up to Bill Evans Lake, which is actually a large pond built in 1969 to support the mining in the area. Nonetheless, the day was beautiful, the lake worth the climb, and the company I keep can't get much better. We bombed down the steep hill back to highway 180, where we braved four miles of riding with the big dogs. We saw a few, but nearly every one moved over to give us room. We shared the G.O.AT. burger deluxe at the Duck Creek Cafe, our second visit. We lounged like turtles in our shells during the mid afternoon. I'm moving my way through Where the Devil Don't Stay: Traveling South with the Drive-by Truckers, by Stephen Deusner. The book chronicles the band's adventures. As I read, I'm playing all or most of all of the songs mentioned on Spotify. It's a multi-media experience. I read Deusner's commentary on the context surrounding the song, and I listen to the song, sometimes both at once. This band's journey has a way of clawing at real emotions. Socially conscious, conflicted, and honest, these guys hang it all out there. Like my young friend, Jeremy Ulmen, who recommended this book to me when he heard I was going to Alabama says of the DBTs, "Their last three albums are littered with day ruining songs." I don't know if I can handle the emotional bludgeoning of the book/songs, but I'm thankful Jeremy gave me the opportunity to try. On the cribbage front, our game of three has come to me leading with 175, then the Cager at 134, followed by Liz at 130. We just add the points of the two losers; no skunks involved. We have one or two games to go before the loser buys the other two lunch. Great fun and most of what makes life good, especially today.
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