Fireflies, Old Bicycles & Beating the Rain

A short day in the truck apparently means about five hundred miles. By the time I got settled at the terminal in West Memphis, it was already eight o’clock, but I felt good and still wanted some miles that involved pedals instead of a diesel engine.

I’d been considering thirty miles. Then I remembered that I also wanted a shower. Twenty sounded like a perfectly respectable compromise.

The sky still had some color left in it, and the first part of the ride gave me a very good excuse to stop almost immediately. A little waterway between the trees was reflecting that orange-pink evening light. I don’t know its name. I do know that if the sky is going to put on a show and the water is going to repeat it, I’m going to take a picture.

Where all the birds went

This was a familiar loop, the sort of ride where I could settle into the sound of the tires on pavement and enjoy being out of the truck. Not every outing needs a new state, a mountain pass, or some enormous mileage goal. Sometimes a little road in Arkansas is quite enough.

Coming past the rail yard in Marion, I finally figured out where the birds were hiding. I’d been wondering why I wasn’t hearing many. Apparently they had all gathered right there and were making up for it. Containers stood under the yard lights while the sky faded behind them. Loaded? Empty? No idea. I was off duty, and this particular transportation question could remain unanswered.

At about three and a half miles I was already riding with the headlight and radar taillight on. Somewhere along the way my GoPro mount made a break for freedom. I heard it hit the ground, turned around, and recovered it. The mount came home; a dark-road action movie did not get made.

A sign that deserved more than a passing glance

One roadside sign marked a Trail of Tears historic route for the next six miles. My turn was coming in about two, so I wasn’t following the whole signed stretch. It was still something I wanted to understand better when we put this story together.

Fireflies, flying insects, and window shopping

Once it was properly dark, the fireflies were everywhere. That part was wonderful. The other bugs taking turns at my eyes and mouth were considerably less charming.

I own a face shield. Naturally, I hadn’t brought it into service for this ride because I didn’t think I’d need it. Apparently the local insects had been left out of that decision.

There was even a bullfrog in the road. The frog survived our encounter. I would like that fact entered into the official record.

Around the ten-mile mark I stopped for a drink and found an old brick storefront with illuminated windows. Inside were vintage-style bicycles, an old-style fuel pump, a red Coca-Cola machine, and a Lion Gasoline sign. I couldn’t tell you the bicycles’ exact models or ages, and I’m not going to make them up. They were interesting enough to keep me peering through the glass with my current bicycle waiting outside.

Those little discoveries are a big part of why I like riding at this pace. From the truck, a storefront is something you pass. On the bicycle, it can turn into a stop, a few photographs, and a question to bring home.

A very small elevation number, a very opinionated pair of legs

By about sixteen miles, I was starting to suspect that the last ten had somehow all been uphill. Strava’s eventual total was sixty-six feet of climbing, which suggests that my legs may have been submitting a somewhat dramatic report.

The whole outing stayed on pavement. After the recent rain, the gravel roads I’d seen looked muddy, and I had no particular desire to add an Arkansas mud-cleaning project to the end of the evening.

I finished just short of twenty-one miles, pleased with the ride and pleased to be back. The terminal lights, the parked trucks, and the bicycle beside the red tractor made a good closing photograph. Another day’s driving behind me, another little piece of America seen under my own power.

About ten minutes to spare

Then, about ten minutes after I got back, the heavy rain started.

Not a thoughtful little sprinkle. Rain across the terminal lot, shining in the lights and making my decision to stop at twenty miles look positively intelligent.

Sometimes shortening the plan works out beautifully. I got my evening ride, the photographs, the fireflies, the old bicycles in the windows—and I wasn’t still out there when the sky opened up.

I’ll take that kind of timing.

Explore 12 more photographs from this ride

Photographs by Butch; ARI-assisted image beautification. Seventeen photographs selected from twenty preserved originals. Storefront lettering, bicycles, reflections, motion blur and night scenes retain their original photographic detail.