When John Gray wrote that book back in 1992 most of us had no idea what the heck Mr. Gray was talking about without rereading the book a couple of times and understanding his "point system". In a nut shell he could have titled the book, Men can name every power tool at Lowe's but can't figure out how to run the washing machine and every woman under the sun would have gotten what Mr. Gray was trying to say without having to read the book. Since birth we females got it.....Girls don't like dirt; boys do. Girls act like little crazy people when they see a spider; boys pluck em up and stick em in a jar. We get it, we got it, and will always know that indeed Men are from Mars Women are from Venus.
Jack and I have been married for 40 years and there are days that I just don't "get" him, nor does he "get" me.
I haven't blogged any this trip because I read Jack's blogs, which are quite good, but have to wonder at times if we are even on the same planet let alone experiencing the same things. He can be such an optimist that my pesimistic behavior makes me feel like such a bi-otch and a whiner and a complainer, so I choose just to remain silent.
But a few things along these miles I just can't help but to share my side of a story.
First....Chillicothe, Ohio. My hometown and still the home of two aunts, eight cousins (seven of whom I haven't seen in 20+ years), my childhood best friend and 16 years of memories. Were it not for Jan, my friend, my two aunts and Steve, my cousin, I probably would never go back. Life changes and time moves on. But that's not what this story is about..................it is about our second bike trip on the Ross County rails to trails. The one we took towards Frankfort, Ohio.
It was beautiful; the country side, the rock cliffs, Jack's little old lady sitting on her front porch and yes, even when he tried to buy her old glider. And yes I did sit back on the bike trail as Jack made his way up to her front porch, waiting. I saw the older lady and heard some kind of farm equipment directly next to the house and all I could think of was, "Oh by gosh, what if he is cultivating a weed crop and we have stumpled upon a crime in progress. They'll kill us, bury us and no one will ever find us out here in the middle of nowhere." BUT then I heard Jack say, "I like your Hillbilly wind chime." I was off that bike and at Jack's back in a heartbeat. Kill us or not I didn't want him to call this poor old lady or anything she owned Hillbilly. Even though it was obvious we were in the heart of Hillbilly country I was thinking we could be shot for that too. When I learned the wind chime really was called a Hillbilly wind chime (because of the beer cans, I guess) I felt much, much better. Still wasn't too sure what was being harvested in the field next to us and trust me I didn't ask nor did I allow my eyes to wander that way. With all of trees that surrounded the area it would be very, very difficult for any air craft to see anything growing from the air. Anyhow, we didn't stay long and traveled on down the road a few miles. However, even though we had not made it to our destination of Frankfort I talked Jack in to heading back to the truck. And here now is the jest of my whole story. Men can tell a story in 10 words on less; women like myself have to set the stage before I tell the story. That was the stage; here is the real story.
The trail head parking lot we found was out in the middle of nowhere; literally. Thick, green, country side all around us. Nice bathroom facilities but nothing else. When we pulled in we were the only vehicle in the lot. That in itself kind of bothered me but still wanted to do the ride. Riding the trails through a country setting is relaxing and my chance to really talk to God. I love it. For the first five miles or so we passed no one and saw perhaps two homes built upon a hill. Quiet. Nature. Loving it. Jack rides much faster than I do for two reasons; one, he is just faster but two I like to poke along looking at everything around me. At one point I saw Jack pass some bikers stopped along the bike path. From a distance I couldn't make out who they were; male, female, old, young, etc. As I got closer my heart started beating faster and faster. I realized that is was three young teenage guys, shirtless and scaring the bejezus out of me. I looked ahead to find Jack stopped looking back. I felt safer. If I had been in my 20's they may have said to me, "Nice rack." 30's I may have heard, "You must work out." 40's I would expect just a simple, "Hello." But in my 50's all I heard was, "Nice bike." (talk about feeling old-even if they may have been criminals) Normally this would be a compliment because I do have a very nice bike. But something in his voice frightened me. Not to mention that one of the shirtless guys had a tat about 10 inches tall inked across his chest that said simply, EVIL. Something in my gut told me that these three were up to no good. I knew it. I could feel it. Had the tat read God Bless You or even I'm with Stupid I wouldn't have been frightened. I peddled as fast as I could past them thinking that if they wanted my bike there was really nothing I could do about it. I'd give it to them happily. Jack waited on me and as I approached him I told him that I thought we should turn around. Even though when I passed the three guys Jack saw them turn and go the other way; the way towards our truck. Jack didn't feel the threat I did. Longer story short I finally talked Jack in to turning around a few miles past the glider lady. He turned and feeling my urgency rode much faster than I getting back to the truck. For a while I couldn't see him and I'm thinking to myself, "Oh my goodness, he really does love that truck more than me." But soon I see him coming towards me and all is right in my world again. He had made it back to the parking lot and guess who was leaving the parking lot as he was pulling in? Yep, the three guys we saw on the trail. God answered my prayers that day because two park rangers were in the parking area planting grass so the three guys had no chance to do any harm to any vehicle, which by that time has multiplied considerably. When I arrived I asked one ranger if they had any problems with vandelism in that area. "Yes," he answered," In the past few months we've had 25 vehicle break ins. But with that ( he pointed to a survellance camera) installed crime has gone down considerably." My gut instinct was right on that day but the good Lord was on our side so all was good.
More on my point of views later on. Like the Rocky stairs; a heart attack waiting to happen for a 58 year old out of shape woman.
A journal written about life, retirement and our journey throughout the United States in a 5th wheel, along with our two Shih Tzus, Tanner and Syndey. Written not for notoriety but for our sons, family and friends, so they know where we are at any given time. And particularly for ourselves. Finally, we get to slow down and smell the roses and we don't want to forget any of it. You are welcome to join us as we go 'Down the Road a Piece'.
