Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
York on Thursday the sixth, stay at my apartment, and pack a bag with clothes for me
to wear to the wedding and proceed to New Orleans the next morning.
From Pittsburgh we'll ride together for three days, she on her collapsible bike (Will
that work? I don't know), at which point she'll rent a car, assuming there's a car to be
rented wherever three days from Pittsburgh by bicycle turns out to be. She'll drive to
Annapolis to pick up our wedding clothes from a friend of hers who has agreed to schlep
them home from the wedding, stop off in West Chester, Pennsylvania, to see her father,
and then head back to New York for dinner with her daughters before flying back to
Paris the next morning.
By that time I should be about ten days from home. But all of this assumes, of course,
that I'll make it to Pittsburgh in time in the first place.
This is pretty exciting. For one thing, it makes some route decisions for me. For an-
other, it's a destination to aim for in advance of my final destination, a finish line before
the finish line, one more achievement and one more reward to look forward to. Spurs are
helpful.
There's something else, though. What I'm willing to do in order to spend time with
Jan is something I'm not sure I'd have done for any of the other women I professed to
love. In my life I've shied away from rendezvous plans a lot less complicated than this.
There are reasons I'm fifty-seven and single, and one is that I've often chosen not to
extend myself; given the option, I tend to draw the line between a solo life and a coupled
one not very far into the gulf between them. “Commitment-phobe” is a term I've heard
more than once, and I haven't argued. Have I grown out of this at last? Perhaps I've
simply worn out my welcome with myself. Maybe it's that Jan affects me differently than
anyone else ever has, making it easier for me to make room for her. Or maybe at this age
commitment is less intimidating because it's not as long as it used to be.
As several of my correspondents have pointed out, I arrived in Minnesota simultan-
eously with perfect biking weather, cool and sunny; yesterday, at last, I had an amiable
tailwind, too. The country has endured so much burdensome weather lately that I feel
a bit sheepish in admitting I've been smiled on with preposterous regularity so far. The
temperature hasn't reached ninety for me in weeks. I've ridden in the rain exactly four
times and have been truly soaked only twice. The wind has been predominantly south-
ern, a little irksome lately but not so bad (or good) overall. I'm either due for a comeup-
pance or I'll bring my good fortune with me to the East.
In the meantime, I'll respond to a few frequently posed questions and oft-stated com-
ments.
