Patriot picnic fun
Did you know there are about 150 wrong turns you can take on a bicycle on your way to Eden Prairie. True. And I think I may have taken about half of those. To make this even more fun, today is a real doozy of a scorcher and I had a nice head wind virtually the whole trip.
I met some nice folks on the way, too, who gave me bad direction.
I can only imagine that my 1999 Rand McNally street map has fallen out of date. For instance, they seem to have moved Hwy 169. While I had no intention of taking the hiway, the road I was on passed under it miles from where it was supposed to be!
Fortunately, I was prepared. I had my portable radio with me and listened to the NARN show on my bike. But the last straw was that fellow who gave me bad directions. His advice brought me the wrong way around the Flying Cloud Airport. At least, it was all downhill. And at the bottom of the hill, lo and behold, was the Lyon's Pub. Oh sweet blessings were beheld when I laid eyes upon this restaurant and tavern. I was down. I was fried. I was kicked and dusted. The pounding heat and fatigue stole all my resolve. I didn't care about the Patriot Picnic anymore. Mitch Berg had announced that most of the food was gone by now anyway.
Humbled and distraught, I locked my bike to a pole, stumbled inside and ordered a cheeseburger, fries and a cold, frosty glass of Leinenkugel's beer. Thank God in Heaven, it was air-conditioned in there.
That meal reconstituted me. I was newly fortified. Yes! I now realized I could still do it. After all, I'd taken just about every wrong turn possible. Through the process of elimination, I could hardly help but find the grounds.
"Mission accomplished" read the banner I'd hung on my bike as I cruised into the picnic. I felt like a conquering hero. Swiftee was on hand to offer me a cold Corona. Parking my sunburnt ass in the shade, I greedily slurped it after first pressing its icy cold container against my sweating brow..
I cracked you, Patriot Picnic! I defied the odds and got there from my home on nothing but sheer will power, Metro Transit and my own two legs on my bike. And nothing could stop me. Not the heat. Not the wind. Not the moron at the intersection of County Rd 1 and Hwy 212.
Lance Armstrong ain't got nothin' on this pinkmonkeybird.
Fortunately, Wog of Wog's Blog had room in his car for me and my bike and he gave me a ride all the way to my home. Thanks Wog for the ride. And thanks Swiftee for the cold beers.
Comment; I forgot to mention that just about everyone at the picnic who I spoke with also got lost and took some of those wrong turns. Lesson learned? Next time I take such a trip, I will print out Google Maps of my route. Google Maps makes my Rand-McNally map obsolete.