Construction Zone Game

Riding a trike through the countryside during the warm weather months of the year eventually means you’re going to happen upon a construction zone or two. Each one presents a new challenge. You never know what they’re going to say to a trike pilot, the likes of which most zone monitors have never seen before today. Here’s a little tidbit from Silent Passage:

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I have come more than 25 miles from the lodge, and it is not quite midday yet. The shoulder is wide so far, wide enough for at least two trikes to ride side by side. If I had a companion triker, we could easily be talking up a storm right now. Along the way, I occasionally stop for more energy bars, a seemingly endless supply of which is horded inside my large cargo trunk on the trailer.

At one point, there is a three mile section of highway striping in progress, as many miles of this road have recently been repaved (makes for superb riding on a recumbent, by the way – no rough jitters). The flagman tells me that the huge striping truck is northbound, and when it gets to the northern end here, will turn around and probably pass me heading south. He says I’ll have to pick up my vehicle and move it off into the dirt by the woods. I don’t like that idea at all, as I am heavily weighted down with supplies, so I shift up to high gear again and really stoke the pedaling fires. Slightly downhill, it is no problem keeping the large front chainring spinning quickly.

A half mile into the striping area, I see the gigantic truck pass me going the other direction, spraying a fine white mist onto the new asphalt. That means he is one mile behind me, so if I can keep up my current speed, and keep him from catching me in the next two and a half miles, I won’t be breathing any paint fumes today, or have to lug all my gear off the roadway into the loose dirt. This provides extra motivation to keep knocking down the miles. As I pass out of the southern end of the striping zone, I cannot even see the truck in my mirrors. Oh yeah! I kept the monster at bay.

The day is pleasant. This trike freeway is the best cycling I’ve done so far, from a car/trike standpoint at least. I feel completely safe with so much room. The afternoon is finally wearing on, so I begin scanning for a suitable stealth camp area. The Cascades are to my west, so the sun will disappear long before dark this evening. I like pitching camp when it is still fairly warm because it is more pleasing not to have cold hands while performing typical camping chores.

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