Old Ford Tractor

There is something about old tractors that make me feel good. You know -not necessarily in the warm and fuzzy way, but safe and secure. There is something about the peeling paint, the smell of gas and oil, and the large solid tires that just seem to whisper, "This is good. This is honest."

Yesterday, was jam packed. First thing yesterday morning, Mace, Jennifer, Jesse and I decided to ride our bikes with a cycling group out of Georgetown. We planned to do the short ride of 22 miles. We went with high hopes. After all, we felt pretty prepared for novices. We have been riding somewhat regularly. We had our map. We had water bottles filled with ice water. We had a breakfast of kolaches sitting warmly in our tummys. We felt like this was going to be good.

We introduced ourselves to the nice cyclists gathering in the meeting area. They were a very friendly group of people. They wanted to make sure we felt welcome and we did. As soon as everyone had gathered, we were off. We, four, felt good. We, four, felt athletic. We, four, were deluded.

Reality has a nice way of biting you in the hiney just when you least expect it. Well, there is a nice big chunk gone from my bottom this morning. It didn't take 2 minutes before all these cyclists started passing us. They must have been doing 30 miles an hour! And to top it off, they were talking - without gasping for air - the whole time they passed us. (I think it should be a a matter of courtesy that they at least pretend to be short of breath.) It didn't take long before we were the only ones left. We four hardy, brave, deluded people kept going even though every fiber in our bodies wanted to sneak back to the car and go back home. (I speak for the girls here. The guys seemed to be OK with the big dose of humbling we were just served.)

We had our map. But, we quickly found out that it wasn't well marked. Consequently, it didn't take long before we were lost. (I'm pretty sure it was at mile 4.) After some deliberation, we figured it out. For some reason, I was given the map and the responsibility of getting us home safely. (I thought about turning us in a circle and going back home, but figured the guys would catch on.) At about mile 6, we almost ran over a 4 foot snake that was crossing the road. I took us 5 minutes and a nice lady in a van, to get Jennifer to continue. (Me? I was closest to the snake when we saw it. I had a quick decision to make. Run over the snake or play chicken with the lady in the van. I chose the lady and her van.)

Well, after a few more times of "I think this is the way to go..." a small trek down the I35 service road, and a possible mountain lion sighting, we finally made it home - At the same time as the other cyclists! OK! OK! They did the 35 mile ride. But, still! I honestly thought they would all be home taking showers before we even made it back to the cars. I got to say, that arriving back at the same time as they did, helped heal my wounded ego a little.

After all this excitement, we had a rip roaring night of games and good food planned. Jess and I had a great time and we thoroughly thank one and all that attended our first ever game night. Nobody had to be escorted home or anything, but I'm pretty sure we all had fun. I'm not sure Helen will be invited back, as she beat the pants off us all with a Mexican Train score of 85 after 5 hands of play. I might be able to talk the rest of the group into letting her come, if she promises to lose next time. Maybe.