September 4 - Friends


I was told by my host that I should go out to the campus of the Olney Friends School on the outskirts of town. This is a boarding school run by the Quakers and I had visions of a vast institution, on the scale of a small college. I was surprised to find only a few small buildings in a cluster, and when I asked how many students there were, I was astounded to be told there were just about fifty. It seems that enrollment has been down over the last few years, although up slightly this year. I spoke at length with Mr. Peacock (like the bird, he said) and he showed me around. It was very quiet, except between classes when there was the familiar din. I didn't truly grasp how small the school was until I saw the dining room which was set for lunch, ready for the whole school to eat at seven small tables. Mr. Peacock and I both agreed that it was too bad I hadn't connected with them at the end of the day, because the kids would probably be interested in my story. Another opportunity missed.

A little further along, I came to the town of Cadiz, where I was musing about the route which took many zigs and zags on the way to Hanoverton. I was approached by a very fit looking young man with whom I had cycling in common. He not only recommended a short cut, but he demanded that I take it. I am usually quite skeptical about other people's shortcuts. They are never shorter in the end, and there are always traps along the way. But this fellow was a cyclist, he seemed to know the lay of the land, and all of the details of the route. So I threw caution to the wind, took his bypass, and was pleased to find the road just as he described it. Axiom: only expect good directions from cyclists who have actually ridden on the roads in question.

In Amsterdam I stopped for pie, and chatted with an elderly gent who was sorting through his photographs of birds. The shots were very good close-ups of all kinds of birds, and he wryly pointed out how he got the subjects to sit for the pictures. "My hobby is taxidermy." When I told him about my adventure he was flabbergasted and wanted to hear all about it. The only exciting thing he had ever done, he said, was when he was 26 in 1930 (do the math) he took a steamer from New York to Brazil and went up the Amazon River for several weeks. Oh yes, and then he had gone on safari in Africa. And this was the ONLY adventure he had ever had!!! I was flabbergasted!

There are so many stories out here on the road. And so little time.

74 miles today.

Dennis



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Copyright (c) 1996 by Dennis Bell. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.