I did notice that there appeared to be a bike trail, optimally placed for me to use it for about 8 miles. When I got to it I found a well engineered trail, with a smooth paved surface. This particular segment went 45 miles from Cincinnati (almost to Xenia and the townsfolk were quite excited about the next segment which would almost double its length. Most of the right-of-way has been established all the way to Cleveland, but it will be years until that destination is reached. The trail was very pleasant, once again covered completely by a canopy of large, leafy trees with expansive cornfields on either side. One is so "safe" while riding on these trails that you can allow yourself the luxury of completely resting your brain. With no traffic, few intersections, no bumps or hills, I found myself ready for a nap, but I think this had mostly to do with the huge milkshake I had just consumed.
I broke away from the trail at just about the same time that I ran out of map, and spent the rest of the day navigating by the sun, and following Dan Henrys (those are marks on the road painted to help cyclists stay on a designated route). They were easy to follow; my only problem was I didn't have any idea to what town they would take me. But I decided that whatever town it was, that was OK with me, because the route was very bicycle friendly. I had called ahead and paid for a room in Washington Court House, so I had to end up in that town, and as luck would have it, the markings got me there.
While I was out on the road with no map, I got to thinking about a scheme whereby an organized effort could be made to mark the roads with directions from one town to the next, so that with the crudest of maps one could negotiate the byways without too much difficulty. If the optimal way from one town to the next were intermittently painted on the roadside with the name of the town (abbreviated in some way), one could be assured that a route could be chosen by linking these small towns together. I went through twelve towns today, and half of them were linked without a map.
I will work out more details in the next few days. Nothing like a little spare time to get some serious planning done.
Babcock and Turner have spent a couple of days in Goshen, as guests of the Ariel Company, and are noticing that things in the east are changing, and it's not just the leaves. From the newspaper archives comes the following:
The new woman seems to get newer every day. Yesterday in Goshen she had charge of the electric car lines, and rang the fares and pulled the bellcord like an old-time employee of the road. Of course it was just for fun and the church, but she is getting experience in the business, and in a few years the world may, without a startle, take note of the advent of the regular woman street car conductor. Speaking of things new, I can't overlook the new styles in shirts and shirt waists. They are regular flower gardens. If you are familiar with them no description is necessary; if not, just wait and make ready to ejaculate when you do see them. They outdo the modern art poster.
Isn't it interesting how words and phrases take on different meanings and connotations.
In a letter to his brother he talks a little bit about the hotel that has been arranged for them:
Mr. Hawks told us he had two rooms engaged for us, one had no bathroom attachment, but it was the best he could do. We went to our rooms and they are fine. The room that has no bath connecting with it has three large mirrors so I can't see but that we will get along for we are very fond of looking at ourselves--in fact we are very pretty.
78 miles today, but I'm back on the map.
Dennis