"A Georgia Journey"
(with the additional caption over a picture.."Locals prepare for Bicycle Ride Across Ga.")
Now I have never ridden in that particular event, but this year their ride will go from Atlanta to Savannah, and that led me to an old memory.
One fine day, way back in the 90s, my daughter brought home a little red book...
A book that symbolized two of my loves:
Cycling
History
450 miles from our home right outside Chattanooga to the Atlantic Ocean on Tybee Island, just east of Savannah, GA.
Dwayne was working in CA at the time and wanted to ride.
Donna was in school in Athens, GA and wanted to ride.
Doug was in school in Atlanta, GA and wanted to ride.
As did their dad..
I managed to get four tee shirts alike and we became the Powerade Cycling Team.
Beginning in Apison, TN and cycling through such places as Tunnel Hill, Resaca, Atlanta, Social Circle, Millegeville, Sandersville, Statesboro, Savannah, and ending with our front wheels in the Atlantic on Tybee.
We were diligent in stopping and reading the historical markers about Civil War events for the first day or so, then became more obsessed with making time. The leader of the 4 person pack at the particular moment when a marker came into view, would point to it as we all sped by, thereby fulfilling the History requirement. It took too much time to read them all anyway..
Doug broke down right near the house on the first afternoon, and our support vehicle (Mayre in our car with the bike rack and food) took him back to a bike shop in Chattanooga to get it repaired, and all he missed was the first few miles. Other than that mishap, we had very little trouble. One flat as I remember.
It was a great family time. Riding all day, stopping every ten miles or so when the riders would spot the support vehicle stopped beside the road with food and drinks all set out, staying in motels with good showers every night, and speeding (?) through middle Georgia together.
It does not get much better than that.
We have ridden together since that one long ride, but never all together. Whoever could, did, but our first big one was the standard.
A Memory not to be forgotten and an accomplishment not to be sneezed at.
And a lot of stories for years afterward.
That flat was in an Atlanta suburb, as I recall. Cummings? I remember waiting at the bike shop for a fix. I don't remember whose bike it was, though. I associate this with learning that the town's biggest industry was a beer bottling plant, though.
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