The Silver Tongued Devil

Offered me a ride.

I left Albany yesterday morning. The big question was: How was I going to get across the Hudson river?

No one I asked knew specifically. Everyone told me to go down to the river and follow the bike path, heading north. Everyone thought eventually, I'd come to a bridge.

I stopped in downtown Albany and asked a guy sitting in a truck. "Go to the street behind us, and follow it to Broadway. Turn left."

"Will the street in front of us take me to Broadway?" I hate to backtrack.

"Sure!" He was wrong. It was a dead end alley.

I came to the end, straddled the bike, wondering what to do. A man and women came around the corner. She wore a pretty pink dress, he was business casual. I asked them.

"Not a problem he said. Turn right on that street there. It's Broadway. Bear left at the Y and go under the Dunlap Bridge, When it dead ends, you'll see a ramp on your right. Go up the ramp, it will take you across the river."

His companion exclaimed: "I didn't know you could do that!"

"Sure you can, I've done it frequently." Was the reply.

He was dead on. The funny thing was: It was so perfect! I don't think I rode more than 50 feet out of my way. I could not have done better even if I lived there.

The road to Pittsfield was poor, and the weather the same. It was hot and muggy; always threatening to rain. Ruts routinely wrapped round the road's right, forcing me to ride near center.

One guy buzzed by me, missing me by just inches. If he'd slowed for the oncoming traffic, and let it pass, there would have been plenty of room. I gave him a nice salute. He pulled off the road and jumped out of his van.

"Why'd you flip me off?!"

"Because you almost hit me!"

"I had no choice, there was traffic!"

"Why don't you slow down?"

"Why are you riding on the road? he asked, Why don't you use a bike trail?"

"Because there is no trail!" I said, and rode off.

I kept hoping I was out of New York, but I knew better. Not that I had anything against the state, I just wanted the psychological boost that would come with crossing it. Sorta like a junkie wanting his fix. I finally got to a quaint little town called Nassau. It was a beautiful little New England village, with a nice looking church, pretty houses, and quiet roads. Surely, this was Massachusetts!

Nope. I had about twenty miles to go. I rode on. In Brainard, there was a light rain falling. I found a house with a porch and went to the front door. Knock. Knock. Knock. No answer. I waited on the porch for 15 minutes until the rain let up. After it did I walked back to my bike and promptly stepped in a pile of dog poop.

Finally made it to New Lebanon, NY. I wasn't hungry, but I hadn't eaten all day. At a diner I ordered a piece of pie. No luck, fresh out. I settled for chili and ate half a bowl.

When I came out it was pouring rain. Phil (the devil) worked in a toy shop next to the diner. He came out and talked to me about the ride. "There's a huge mountain between here and Pittsfield. Why don't I give you a ride to the top?"

"I can't. It would be cheating."

"It would only be cheating for 3 miles. How far have you ridden?"

I looked at the rain. It had rained off and on for a couple of days now. I was tired of it.

"About 1,400 miles. Sure. Why not?" I replied.

"Let me finish lunch and we'll load you up!" He seemed excited, like he had just made a sale.

As I waited, I sat outside and watched the rain. I saw another rider on the road. I think it was a woman. She had red panniers on her bike, nothing else. No tent or sleeping bag. I watched her ride past, disappearing in the mist. To me, it was a beautiful picture: the rain and the cyclist.

After a few minutes of thinking, I went back to Phil: "You probably don't understand, but I've got to ride this. I really appreciate your offer!" And I mounted the bike in the pouring rain and started up the mountain.

It was any easy ride.