This summer is shaping up as a series of reunion rides. Indiana brought me back into contact with a bike I haven't seen in awhile, this all-carbon Schwinn Peloton:
friend of the blog Anon A. Moose. With both of us and both of our bikes in the same state at the same time, the moment seemed right for a spin.
If one wanted to dismiss the Midwest as a bunch of green nothing, one wouldn't have to work very hard to explain that position. And if your interests lie in experimental theater, classical orchestras, or advanced medical care, your arguments would probably carry the day. But sometimes, usually when I'm astride a bike, nothing is more attractive than endless green nothing. Mainly, I think, because in the Midwest endless green nothing isn't really endless. The landscape is dotted with family farms and small, half-forgotten towns, a network of lightly-traveled asphalt connecting all of them. There's always a good road, and, somewhere along that road, always somewhere to buy some lemonade or a cup of ice cream.
|If you want a better road than this, you're an asshole.|
|A herd of bison. We had bison burgers two nights later.|
|When a Moose meets a Buffalo|
|We are not the only ones who appreciate endless green fields.|