Wellborn Bimble

Joe joined me in Fort White this morning for a bimble (see urban dictionary) up to Wellborn, FL. There were lots of runners out braving the 50 degree weather in their shorts for a 5k sponsored run. We moved on west to met up with Thelma at the entrance to 3 Rivers Estates and then doubled back to head north on Junction Road where we expected to find Rick on his way to meet us. He was right on time so we made our introductions and continued north taking Ichetucknee Avenue up to CR 240. Standing down for a breather at 240 & 247, it was already time to shed our sleeves and warmers... This was shaping up to be an outstanding morning.

Just a few miles north and east, pushing against the wind that would be our dear friend when we began our return, we left the highway and fell back in time into the quiet, rural peace of an older reference. Now a dog might bark, even move toward the road, but quickly paused to ponder our passing. You could hear the birds sing once more and take the time to guess which one it might be, imagine yourself able to actually watch an old leaning barn slowly slide into the earth, admire classic specimen vehicles in various states of restoration, storage or disrepair and blissfully slip in and out of the morning shade while quietly gliding along a nearly abandoned corridor.

Hey! Wait just a minute... I've got to wake myself back up. We were nearly thirty miles out and had that and more to go. Well, anyway, it was a real nice change of pace. I managed to recover from my dream state as we arrived in Wellborn and took in the sites that showed me just how long it had been since I rode through. The Suwannee Swifty that had formerly been our ride destination had not only closed some time ago but had grass growing up though the asphalt parking lot so we made a quick tour and turned back toward the highway, the Dollar General, and the B&B, standing down at the latter. Taking on refreshments in the shade of the building, we were approached by several locals with an interest in learning more about recumbents and trikes. Of course, it is always fun to pass the whole thing off as a playful refusal to grow up. That philosophy seems to have a somewhat universal appeal.

Probably because none of us had particularly "trained" for this long a ride recently and because our previously mentioned dear friend (now a respectable tailwind) was helping us along, we slowly quieted down and began to focus on getting the trip behind us. Still a freshly painted purple Studebaker Hawk is difficult to ignore as was the only other cyclist we encountered and some of the fence work along CR 137 is tough to remain silent about, but most importantly we were all in good spirits and finally, it was NOT 90 degrees outside any more!

75 miles and smiles