Biking in the dark

I wanted to make good use of every moment of the "nice" day. Weather forecasters told us that today, Wednesday, would be rainy and cold. That hasn't come true yet, but yesterday's nice day made a person want to stay outside. So, after putting the horses in for the night, I estimated that I had enough time to ride my bike to the north end of South Center Valley Road and back.

It was a lovely evening for a bike ride, and, as always, I enjoyed the sights and sounds of early October: the quiet countryside where most people were inside their homes probably eating dinner or watching the news. As usual, I was thanking my lucky stars for the opportunity to live on this road where farm life is the norm.

Just shy of my turnaround spot, I noticed that house lights were coming on, including those in a home over on Center Valley Road, which I had suggested to some friends a few weeks ago might be available for rent. It had been vacant since August when the previous tenant had gotten married. Figuring my friends might just be living there now, I figured there was time to pedal on over there and see for sure.

It was for sure. I saw my classmate Ruthann walking past the big picture window facing the road. It was close enough to dusk that she couldn't see me on the road. Later, she told me that when the dog barked, she thought maybe a bear was lurking outside. Instead, it was the nosy neighbor coming to check out the scene.

Ruthann's granddaughters and their mom, who was still at work, had moved into the home over the weekend. She invited me to sit down. I said I was just there for a minute cuz I was on my bike and didn't want to ride home in the dark. Sure thing. When you're old friends and classmates, that one minute can stretch to 15, and before I knew it last night, outside had turned pitch dark.

"I've gotta get home," I said to my friend, "especially when you're talking about bears. I'm a big chicken, and I don't want to meet up with a bear on the road." Ruthann kept teasing me about my fears, clear out the driveway.

"Don't let that boogie man get you," she yelled as I went into high gear toward home. I pedaled just as fast as I did that night while trying to catch up with the Schwan's man. It's really dark when you're pedaling down the road where tall pine trees hover. So, you pedal faster and pray that you don't collide head on with that bear, which is surely waiting there for you in the bushes along the road.

Actually, smaller trees and bushes start looking just like bears in the dark. All tolled, I must have sped by at least a dozen hungry bears before reaching the open spaces part way down South Center Valley Road. The openings showed a little bit of light left in the sky, and the nearer I got to home, the less I'd have to worry about bear encounters. So, I kept a rigorous pace with the pedals but turned a bit more relaxed with the mind.

When I get to Eva's, it won't be far from home, I thought, this really hasn't been too bad.

I've spent a lifetime afraid of bears in the night, so I was feeling pretty proud of myself by that point, knowing I'd get home unscathed.

That was not to be.

Suddenly, just north of Eva's, while I was zipping down the driver's side of the road, a white figure suddenly appeared out of nowhere directly in my pathway. I didn't have time to analyze the situation. Instead, I did what any fraidy cat with a gizzard would do.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAg!" The gutteral scream---slightly variant from that which used to come from my mouth when brothers would insist I was madder than a hatter---pierced the Selle Valley night air as my hands locked the brakes and directed the bike on a sharp left turn. The white thing instantly jumped to the side toward the ditch. Then, and only then, she switched on her flashlight.

Eva Whitehead did not scream and did not even chastise me (her former lame geometry student and teaching colleague) for practically wiping her into the gravel on this lovely October night. But she did clearly instruct me to get a light on that bicycle and to wear lighter clothing (like she was wearing) so someone could see me biking down the road at night.

When I told her that biking in the dark had not been my original plan because of a talkative friend and especially because of bear phobia, she seemed to understand. I told her that I figured her house would mean that I was home free from wildlife encounters, but she told me that the elk cross the road by her house quite often.

Surprisingly, after nearly meeting her Maker only to have Marianne abruptly put that off for a while, Eva was pretty talkative, just like Ruthann. Then, a car came from the north, so we decided to move on along our respective ways.

I did make the most of the nice day, the pleasant dusk and the eventful darkness. So, yesterday, from dawn 'til dark did not disappoint, but, as usual, it did not end without another crazy incident to recount. I don't know how Eva's gonna tell the story, but I'm sure it will be interesting, and for sure she's gonna always remind me about the importance of that bicycle light.

And, for sure, I'll tell her she doesn't need to worry cuz I have no plans to race attacking bears on country roads in the near future.