I could sit here in front of my space heater until my feet burn to a crisp and I’ll still never get warm. As much as I love to ride, spring (and fall) riding sometimes come with that unshakable chill, even bundled up. We’ve just returned from our first longer ride of the season, out North Territorial to the Chelsea area and back, and I’m still shivering.
We started out taking I-275 south to I-94 west, and had intended to take the 23 exit south to ride out a ways on US-12, as we’ve done so many times in the past. Almost to the exit for 23 north, Bill turns on his right signal and also hand signals to take the exit north. I pointed forward saying, “No, it’s the next one!” but he adamantly returned the right hand signal. Okay, north we go. I got alongside him on the ramp and he said he wanted to take North Territorial instead. Cool!
Years ago, we had a 1977 Harley Davidson Sportster that we planned to ride two up to the 100th Anniversary celebration in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in 2003. We were camping for the weekend, so strapping our gear and tent to this not-a-touring-bike needed some thought and planning. We finally got it all figured out and loaded up and the next question was where our test run would take us. Bill suggested Kentucky, where his Dad and brother resided.
I’ve never felt this before in my life, but upon his suggestion, I was overcome with the worst sense of dread I’d ever experienced. Knowing that my husband, in all his awesomeness would take me seriously and not think I was crazy, I told him. He then said, “Okay then, how about somewhere up north?”
I kid you not, I felt this horrible, dreaded weight lifting off me, almost immediately. “Yes! Fine! Up north! Anywhere but Kentucky!” We took our trip and all went fine, but I still think about what we may have encountered that day if we’d headed south.
Today, we found ourselves at the Shell gas station at 23 and North Territorial where we pulled in for a brief moment to take a break and figure out the rest of our day. It was then that Bill said, “Remember that horrible feeling you got when we were planning the trip on the Sportster?” No way. Yes, I remembered it all too well.
That was the reason for his last minute detour. Right at that moment, just before the north exit for 23, something told him to change course. He kept apologizing, but believe me, if anyone understood this awful feeling, it was me. We finished out the day with a stop at Lyndon Park, and took a quick hike through part of the trail system before heading home. Today’s ride saw us home safe and sound, like all the rides I pray for ourselves and our friends, for the rest of our days.
How about you? Has there even been a time you “changed course” in whatever you were doing, because of a strong, particular feeling?