Indian Summer: A Meandering Ride in Minnesota and Wisconsin
After decades of poor excuses, I finally made good on my promise to do a Midwest ride with college roommate Brad. Photos by the author and Brad Jones.
During my college years, rather than waste time studying nonsense such as biochemistry or the comparative structure and function of vertebrates, I instead spent the bulk of my days riding bikes, wrenching on bikes, reading about bikes and dreaming of bikes. Which accounts in large part for my modest circumstances today. To compound these sins, I also got my roommate Brad Jones totally hooked on motorcycles to boot. Which added greatly to fun times blitzing down country roads, albeit at the cost of study time at the U.C. Davis library. Brad, however, had the fortitude to pursue two stellar careers: first as a naval aviator getting flung repeatedly off the deck of an aircraft carrier, and then as an airline pilot shuttling people around the world on behalf of Northwest Airlines. Me, I?m still pounding out stories for mere pennies a word. But I digress. The point is, before we parted ways upon graduation, we made frequent, sincere and elaborate promises to get together. Often. Really we would.
But promises made proved incredibly difficult to fulfill; wives, work, children, mortgages and bills, all those mundane day-to-day obligations ate up our days. Then weeks. Then years. We ended up living half a continent apart; I stayed in California and Brad departed to Minnesota, and later moved across the St. Croix River to the little to...
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