whobybike

Few things are more frustrating than being lost. And one of those things is being lost on a bicycle. Every turn is a decision that costs more than the contents of the gas tank; the price is paid in pedalstrokes and pain. Today's ride to Chapel Hill was supposed to be my first solid ride of the summer. At just over seventy miles round-trip -- and a nice coffee stop midway through -- it presented a challenge that was not unrealistic. The ride seemed like a convenient way to make a trip out of an errand and dodge the I440-I-40-HWY54 tedium. Instead, it was a mild lesson in the importance of proper planning and, as always, humility.

Migas, white tea, water. I knew I was a little behind schedule when the partner and I had a skillet full of uncooked food in the pan at 9:30. I was supposed to be forty miles away in a couple of hours, and I wasn't even dressed. After donning the much admired "suspenders" (my bibs) and loading up the Surly, I was off. Clipping in, the pedals turned easily as I headed into downtown Raleigh. The cheap, skinny tires worried me, and, often to the chagrin of the cars behind me, I bobbed and weaved around the potholes that litter Wake Forest Road. UPS is coming tomorrow with a pair of 35mm Vittoria Randonneurs, my gift to my arms and knees. Starting late, I missed most of the in-town traffic, and my trip out Chapel Hill Road was uneventful.

It was the first time I'd really done distance on the Surly; it had been my father's bike before he decided to join the racer-boys and invest in some aluminum and carbon-fiber. That's fine by me. I'll spend a few weeks this summer chasing him up and down the Blue Ridge Mountains on the cross-check, all twenty-eight pounds of it, and I have no doubt that I'll enjoy every minute. For now, though, I'm more concerned about the Acura that roars by, barely missing me as I sail along the white paint at the edge of the road. There are some hard words and a little adrenaline; it is short-lived.

With the sign for NE Maynard looming, the Surly and I sweep across the two lanes of traffic and find ourselves in the turning lane with a little time to spare. A quick look at the cue sheet, though, tells me I'm looking for SE Maynard, and, as Maynard meets Chapel Hill Road in several places, I pull the bike back into traffic and head on down the road. The itch on the back of my neck should have tipped me off; it was going to be a difficult day. Watching the shadows shorten, I switch water bottles and head up the next hill. None of Cary's hills are worth mentioning, but that might just be why I find them so tiresome. You never get to climb properly. There's nothing to brag about. Only tiresome rollers and endless gas stations between you and the woods. In two months, yellow and brown will spray across this green canvas, but, in the early summer months, the trees seem hopeful, peeking out from between the golden arches of the McDonald's.

NE Maynard. NW Maynard. SW Maynard. SE Maynard doesn't even exist, for all I know. As I head toward yet another intersection of Maynard and Chapel Hill, I find that I am at my tipping point. The unexpected moment. The decision made for me. I hang a left. SW Maynard turns into NW Maynard. Then, magically, I'm back on Chapel Hill Road. Cursing under my breath, it's another left turn back onto the larger road and a set of eerily familiar little hills. When I find myself in Morrisville, I know I'm in trouble. The firestation has been abandoned for a few months; they moved off the main road and closer to the quieter (whiter?) suburbs. It's time to call for some support, and I decided to phone my roommate for directions. Left pannier. No phone. Right pannier. No phone. Dinky little under-seat bag. Decidedly, no phone. And no wallet. I reach up to make sure my head is still attached and find, to my chagrin, that it is.

Chapel Hill in an hour; what's a boy to do? Safe to say, I covered the distance back into town with a greater sense of urgency than I'd had earlier that morning. When the second water bottle was empty, I realized that summer had properly arrived; yet again, I was unprepared. Raisin-like, my brain formulated the following plan: 1)get back to Raleigh 2)find partner 3)borrow car 4)drive to Chapel Hill for my meeting. I needed the partner and her car, but there was no way to get in touch with her. Riding to her house, I found the car, but the partner was nowhere to be found. This is when I embarked on some sort of Survivor/Newlyweds hybrid game, racing from common hangout to common hangout in an effort to find the partner and, more importantly, the all-important keys.

Sometimes, it's nice to be right. I found her almost immediately, and, to make a long story short, everything ended well. The car and I went to Chapel Hill. The meeting was conducted. I got some exercise. And the partner continues to humor me.

tl;dr I had to ride somewhere, but I got lost. Then I realized I didn't have my phone. Then I had to go on a scavenger hunt for some keys, but everything was OK.

Nachoman

Nice first post. Welcome.

Savagewolf

Ha ha....awesome story. I loved it.

guadzilla

Enjoyable story - been there, done that, feel your pain

Machka 

Very descriptive post ... looking forward to hearing about your weekend rides in the Weekend Cycling threads.


Some of my best rides have been when I've set off intent to spend the day riding ... and have become lost in my exploration.

SlimRider

Welcome To Bike Forums, WhoByBike!

Really enjoyed reading your short masterpiece there, guy.

.... Let me guess, you're a writer!

Matt Gaunt

Nice post and a good story. I hate that feeling when you reach for the phone / wallet / key / whatever and the realisation dawns that you didn't pack it.

a1penguin

Nice story! I lived in Durham for 10 years. I think it was almost a whole year before I realized that there was a Chapel Hill Road, Chapel Hill Blvd and Chapel Hill Street. Once I realized that, i didn't get lost as easily :-)

topflightpro

No offense, but your first mistake was trying to ride through Cary. That place is a disaster, even in a car. Roads change names. Don't follow any pattern.

My buddy and I spent nearly an hour driving in circles one after noon trying to find a specific BBQ joint that I thought I knew a short cut to - I didn't.

But if you want a good ride, the Firecracker ride on the 4th is pretty good.

Vlaam4ever

Great story and excellent writing!

whobybike

Hey, thanks for the feedback! topflightpro - this is my first summer in Raleigh, and I've already heard lots of good things about the Firecracker Ride. And yes, Cary is a hot mess.

rjones28 

Good read.

dstrong 

Despite meticulous planning and often, laminated cue sheets, I'll still occasionally wander off course. That's when having a smartphone with mapping can be invaluable. Out in the country there are a lot of roads that go by multiple names. I make liberal use of street view while planning new routes and try to make sure I've got all the name variations noted on the cue sheets. Getting lost "in the middle of nowhere" can turn quite ugly, especially in the summer.

Glad you made it through the adventure unscathed.

Eureka

Well that was fun. And very well written. Don't stop...

EdIsMe

Really enjoyed reading this - wonderfully written. Thank you.