PAGE 53
www. FavoriteRidesAndDestinations. com | ridermagazine. com
FALL 2016 ISSUE 02 / VOL. 01
We fired up and simply meandered. Meandering is the most spiritual form of motion. We rode through a town where families sat in lawn chairs in their front yards, facing the street, as though expecting a parade celebrating some previously unknown holiday. On a side street an unusually high number of people were sitting on John Deere lawnmowers. A precision drill team? The National Guard making do with whatever? A float peeked out from behind the outfield fence on the baseball diamond. The townspeople waved at us. We were the parade. And then came the kind of moment you ride for. Gary was leading, noticed horse droppings on the shoulder of the road, and slowed. Ahead I could just make out the rear view of an oddly shaped vehicle. We overtook a convoy of horse-drawn wagons, filled with Amish families on their way to church. The men wore hats, the women bonnets. A young girl sat on a rear-facing bench seat. She waved at us, bashfully. I waved back. We were partners in the great dance.
Left: As we meandered through small Midwestern towns, we got our information the old-fashioned way: talking to locals. Above: The rails follow the river, the road follows the rails.