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05-06-05, 01:22 PM
PA Highway 174 has become one of my standard training routes because traffic is not that heavy, the paved surface is in reasonably good condition, and most importantly to me, because it is relatively flat. Mind you, I appreciate that hills have their place in a training regimen, but early in the season, getting the miles in is of primary importance.
Anyhow, our normal ride begins on one of the more heavily traveled stretches of the road, a few miles east of Boiling Springs, and continues westward about 14 miles before we cross over to another road that brings us back in a loop following the Yellow Breeches creek (31.25 miles all told according to the cyclo-computer). Aside from where we pass through Boiling Springs, the route is through a pastoral setting - we pass by much farmland, and some houses that are situated on multiple acre lots. The road itself becomes much more lightly traveled about 7 miles into our ride after we cross Rte 34 - which leads to Carlisle, the major town in the western part of the county.
Yesterday, the weather was quite agreeable for a ride. It was about 65 degrees, and there was a breeze. There were clouds, but it was a bright day. My riding partner, Kevin, and I were about 11 miles into our ride. We were on the quiet stretch of the road and had just completed our climb of one of the hills. Kevin was on his baby blue, 1949 Hetchins that he had just gotten back from some frame repairs. I was on my 1973 Fuji, trying to keep up with the stronger rider who was trying to get a measure of what his bike could do with a now-straight frame.
We were at least a quarter mile away from any houses when we saw movement in the tall grass on the small bank off the right side of the road about 20 feet ahead. Inexplicably, the groundhog - evidently a yearling judging from its size - had decided that it wanted to cross the road, and that now was the time it was going to do it. He? charged onto the road with a quickness that surprised me. About two steps onto the road, apparently seeing Kevin's bike, he turned and continued running the same direction as us. After Kevin's bike passed, he juked to the left, putting himself about three feet directly in front of me. Had he kept going, I would not be writing this, but now, directly in the path of a bicycle moving 15+ mph, he must have sensed something his little rodent brain hadn't taken note of before. He stopped. Our eyes met, and I suspect we had similar queasy feelings, recognizing the then-unpreventable event that was about to happen. Thump Thump.
While the impact was jolting, and the sensation sickened me, I was suprised that I was not thrown from the bike. I was even more surprised that the wheels kept rolling, and that the bike seemed to have suffered no ill effects. I spent the next hundred yards or so staring at my front wheel, trying to see if it had been affected. Kevin was looking back at the groundhog - something I couldn't bear to do. About another hundred yards down the road, Kevin said, "he's moving, but looks like he's having a real hard time getting up". I then asked Kevin if he could drop behind me to see if there was anything amiss with my rear wheel. I got a good report, and when Kevin pulled back in front - well, naturally we were discussing what had just happened.
Well, shame on us. We'd gotten a chance to meet the pit bull that lives at that farmhouse before. He had staged a sneak attack from behind the hedgerow that stands 15 feet off the road during our first ride of the season. But our minds weren't on that thought, as the previous 3 rides had passed without incident, and well, because of the groundhog incident not even hald a mile before.
Fortunately, Kevin was already accelerating, and saw him coming about a second before I did, and also had enough in his legs to match the dog's burst. Fortunately for me, the nasty critter was locked in on Kevin, because he was ahead of me by the time Kevin started to get some separation. By the time Muttley glanced over at me, he was tiring, I had built up speed, and had just pulled even with him - though as far away on the road as I could get.
Needless to say, we were no longer fixated on the groundhog. I spent the rest of the ride paying closer attention to what might be lurking off the right side of the road. I was certainly not wanting encounter number three to be with one of those smelly little black and white critters that freely roam these parts. I was also thankful that I was riding a well-built steel frame, as I shudder to think what the shock might have done to a carbon fiber bike.
Anyhow, our normal ride begins on one of the more heavily traveled stretches of the road, a few miles east of Boiling Springs, and continues westward about 14 miles before we cross over to another road that brings us back in a loop following the Yellow Breeches creek (31.25 miles all told according to the cyclo-computer). Aside from where we pass through Boiling Springs, the route is through a pastoral setting - we pass by much farmland, and some houses that are situated on multiple acre lots. The road itself becomes much more lightly traveled about 7 miles into our ride after we cross Rte 34 - which leads to Carlisle, the major town in the western part of the county.
Yesterday, the weather was quite agreeable for a ride. It was about 65 degrees, and there was a breeze. There were clouds, but it was a bright day. My riding partner, Kevin, and I were about 11 miles into our ride. We were on the quiet stretch of the road and had just completed our climb of one of the hills. Kevin was on his baby blue, 1949 Hetchins that he had just gotten back from some frame repairs. I was on my 1973 Fuji, trying to keep up with the stronger rider who was trying to get a measure of what his bike could do with a now-straight frame.
We were at least a quarter mile away from any houses when we saw movement in the tall grass on the small bank off the right side of the road about 20 feet ahead. Inexplicably, the groundhog - evidently a yearling judging from its size - had decided that it wanted to cross the road, and that now was the time it was going to do it. He? charged onto the road with a quickness that surprised me. About two steps onto the road, apparently seeing Kevin's bike, he turned and continued running the same direction as us. After Kevin's bike passed, he juked to the left, putting himself about three feet directly in front of me. Had he kept going, I would not be writing this, but now, directly in the path of a bicycle moving 15+ mph, he must have sensed something his little rodent brain hadn't taken note of before. He stopped. Our eyes met, and I suspect we had similar queasy feelings, recognizing the then-unpreventable event that was about to happen. Thump Thump.
While the impact was jolting, and the sensation sickened me, I was suprised that I was not thrown from the bike. I was even more surprised that the wheels kept rolling, and that the bike seemed to have suffered no ill effects. I spent the next hundred yards or so staring at my front wheel, trying to see if it had been affected. Kevin was looking back at the groundhog - something I couldn't bear to do. About another hundred yards down the road, Kevin said, "he's moving, but looks like he's having a real hard time getting up". I then asked Kevin if he could drop behind me to see if there was anything amiss with my rear wheel. I got a good report, and when Kevin pulled back in front - well, naturally we were discussing what had just happened.
Well, shame on us. We'd gotten a chance to meet the pit bull that lives at that farmhouse before. He had staged a sneak attack from behind the hedgerow that stands 15 feet off the road during our first ride of the season. But our minds weren't on that thought, as the previous 3 rides had passed without incident, and well, because of the groundhog incident not even hald a mile before.
Fortunately, Kevin was already accelerating, and saw him coming about a second before I did, and also had enough in his legs to match the dog's burst. Fortunately for me, the nasty critter was locked in on Kevin, because he was ahead of me by the time Kevin started to get some separation. By the time Muttley glanced over at me, he was tiring, I had built up speed, and had just pulled even with him - though as far away on the road as I could get.
Needless to say, we were no longer fixated on the groundhog. I spent the rest of the ride paying closer attention to what might be lurking off the right side of the road. I was certainly not wanting encounter number three to be with one of those smelly little black and white critters that freely roam these parts. I was also thankful that I was riding a well-built steel frame, as I shudder to think what the shock might have done to a carbon fiber bike.