My sister and my nephew were over today. They brought bikes. I think there have only been three times in the past year when anyone has ridden a bike with me on the trail down below. May daughter made it about two hundred yards before she bailed. The self same nephew joined me for a jaunt last fall that took us into town. My wife and I also did a proper excursion over to Gardiner and had some breakfast there in town last autumn. Beyond that, no one is interested in accompanying me. And it is a rather solo endeavor that I pursue most days of the week to great, solitary joy.
Today, the both of them joined me and we headed up through town and off to Rosendale. Of course, I wanted to point out every tree and every vista which no one else needed to hear. I did my best to just enjoy the ride and attempt some biking conversation. My nephew had forgotten his mask. We returned at got one. Then, he'd forget to pull it over his face when we'd pass people and I found myself insisting that he do the needful and strap it up over his mouth and nose when people appeared. I don’t have it in me to correct others out on the trail. But if you’re my family then I’ll make the investment.
Out at the bridge over the Walkill my nephew had an epiphany: he’s seen this bridge before. Isn’t this the bridge from the movie, “The Quiet Place?” I have no knowledge of this film, but apparently the opening murder scene of this horror flick takes place right here on our antique overpass. My sister concurred that someone seminal, the actor or the director lived near here. My nephew was keen to watch show us all the film. Though my daughters, have never seen this bridge and I, am perhaps inclined to leave it unsullied by a murder scene.
No one wanted to cook. Least of all me, who wasn’t going to be eating. I took the troop up to Rosendale to our favorite local Japanese place, Soy. I asked my younger one to play a preferred BTS song or two, to give her face, and allow her a chance to convert her cousin. We returned home via High Falls and Stone Ridge which my sister had never seen. She made the appropriate “awww” and “wooo” exclamations when we passed the two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old houses. My car warned me and then wouldn’t shut up about the fact that we were suddenly low on gas. This is my nanny-car. In case you are ever in similar straights, there are in fact no gas stations between High Falls and New Paltz, but it didn’t matter. I had enough for the return and even a few chores before I fed the thirsty beast.
Wednesday, 07/08/20
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