A Short But Nearly Perfect Ride

As much as I love cross-country rides, the local jaunts do have a couple of advantages.

1. They require minimal planning and preparation -- you can just walk out the front door and go.
2. You don't have to pack gear for a wide range of possible weather conditions, from wet to dry and hot to cold.
3. You don't need to schedule your life around them; there is no need to request time off from work or have the Post Office hold your mail.

Today's officially stated objective was to ride to the "U-Pick" strawberry patch about ten miles from our house and harvest ourselves enough fruit to keep Trish busy for the next few days making strawberry pie, strawberry tarts, strawberry jam, strawberry pancakes etc.

The ride itself was wonderful -- the route took us down two of the prettiest roads in Seminole County: Highway 426 through the Little Big Econ State Forest and Florida Avenue south of Lake Jesup.

Trish on Florida Avenue.

The ride was wonderfully scenic and the weather couldn't possibly have been nicer. Although lots of other motorcyclists were also out enjoying this fine March day, traffic overall was light. We rode past horse farms and cattle pastures, past signs advertising homemade pottery and warning drivers to watch out for deer and gopher tortoises, smelling fresh-cut grass and orange blossoms.

But then (as always) came the unexpected development: the patch was closed -- fenced off and chained up.

With a laugh and a shrug, Trish realizes that our mission has gone awry.

One of the things that I love so much about Trish -- and one of the most important, primary and fundamental reasons why I would consider embarking upon an epic long-distance ride with her -- is that she has an amazing ability to roll with sudden changes, to improvise, to adapt, to relax and enjoy herself when events do not unfold as intended. While some (many? most?) would pout, whine, complain, fuss, sulk, pitch a fit, throw a tantrum, fly off the handle or generally be a pain when such cracks, puddles and craters in the pavement of life appear, Trish never loses her perspective. She just smiles, makes a joke and alters course.

Not getting bent out of shape about things, she once told me, is her mutant superpower. I have learned to embrace her motto, which is, "It'll Be Fine."

So we turned around and headed back to Geneva. The ride back home was as delightful as the ride out there had been. In the driveway she high-fived me and I gave her a kiss. I can think of worse ways to spend a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon.