THE GOOD OLD DAYS!

     Yesterday I was in South Austin trying out bikes.  I'm getting a new race-specific one, but this post has nothing to do with that, other than I was south.  On the way home I stopped at the light at Hester's Crossing (it doesn't matter if you're unfamiliar), overlooking Round Rock.  Having a minute to let my mind wander, I recalled stopping here on my bike in 1975.
     We lived in North Austin then, and I was headed to Waco, where I'd be picked up by my wife and kids and thence to Dallas.  That was the plan.  It was chilly, with a breeze out of the north.  I stopped at this intersection to choose between going into town or riding on the interstate, since the access road stopped.  Back then there were only fields left and right.  Back then I had the access road to myself, with an occasional vehicle.
     Following some self-consultation, I jumped on the interstate.  Traffic was light and it wasn't long before the access road reappeared.  I was on my Schwinn Sports Tourer (still in my attic) and as the weather warmed so did my spirit.  Truthfully, I didn't know much about long distance riding and while I had sufficient water I didn't have much else.  This would have been a much easier journey had the wind been at my back.  But I soldiered on, more or less alone as Georgetown and Salado came and went.  I stopped in Temple for lunch and a much-needed break.
     I was tired, but had to navigate Temple and get to Waco.  Cycling became labored.  Just south of Lorena is a long downhill followed by a long uphill.  That was my breaking point.  I stopped before going down at a spot where Marilane couldn't miss me and sat down to wait.  I've always been good about estimating time and distance, so we had coordinated our meeting (no cell phones or other communication).  Of course, I was about fourteen miles short of Waco,  but then I was also going slower than anticipated.  The upshot was a minimal wait, like fifteen minutes.
     I'd stopped by a road sign so I could prop the bike upright, the better to be seen.  No problem.  Once in the station wagon, I zonked out, really exhausted.  I know I slept for over an hour, and it might have been all the way to Dallas.  To this day, I still point out the stopping place in Lorena.  I'd planned one hundred miles but fell short by ten or so.  Still felt accomplished.
     We moved away, moved back.  When my youngest (Kurt) son wanted to do distance cycling in the late eighties, we would do the access road from Round Rock to Salado and back.  When I trained for my coast-to-coast trip in 2001 the access road was a major part of my distance rides. Salado is where a pickup rolled the stop sign and hit me, but I digress.  Increasing traffic has caused most of my access road cycling to become nostalgia (or is that nostalgic??, definitely awkward but gets the point across).
     All of this because of a red light.