Drunken horseback riders

Posted 2-Jun-2007

I don’t always go out for bike rides on major holidays (too many drunk drivers) but I did a history ride on Memorial Day. The destination was Jefferson Township in Hillsdale County. I was hoping to find the gravesite of Peleg Pettis and/or his son.

About 70 miles from home I had already checked out two cemeteries with no luck. I came across these Amish horses. It looked like they had been turned out into a new pasture. They were too busy enjoying the fresh, tall grass to pay much attention to me.

A mile or so later I found myself on a gravel road where a couple of horseback riders were coming my way, in my lane more or less. I slowed down so I wouldn’t spook their horses, and also to see if they planned to move over so I could get past them on the right, or whether I would have to squeak around them on the left. Finally, they moved out of the way and I rode past. We said our hellos. They were a couple of tall men, shirtless, bareheaded and reddish. The latter was more from drink than from sun, it looked like. They seemed to be handling their horses easily enough, though. A little ways past them I heard behind me a booming “Where ya headed?” with a timing and a voice that removed any doubt about their state of inebriation.

I was still thinking about them as the road started to pass through a swampy area with water about level with the road on both sides, and perhaps a bit higher along some edges. They were fairly big guys or at least seemed so up on their horses — probably a foot taller than me and at least 20 years younger. But I was also thinking how my reflexes were probably working a lot better than theirs at the moment.

The road had been deserted except for them, but now a small pickup was coming my way. It seemed to have stopped so I could get around a muddy spot that made the road too narrow for the both of us. But once I was past the puddles, I saw that the driver was flagging me down. He wanted to know if I had seen a couple of guys on horseback, drunk, and whether they had turned off the road. Yes, I had seen them, maybe a half mile back, definitely drunk. I didn’t know which way they had gone but I told him he could probably still find them back there.

Instead of taking off after them, he told me he wished he knew which way they had gone, that they had abused his wife verbally (his exact words), had been riding onto private property causing trouble, and that they had been blocking the road so drivers couldn’t get past. When one driver complained, they told him to perform acts of sexual intimacy with himself and refused to get out of the way. And so on. I told him they were probably still back there on the road, that their reflexes weren’t very good, and that they had got out of the way for me. This man didn’t seem inclined to go and confront them, though. Maybe he just wanted to keep track of where they were. I rode on.

In the end, I had to chalk it up as the highlight of the day because I never did find the Peleg Pettis gravesite, even though I searched five cemeteries. As the afternoon had worn on, I had been watching extra carefully for drunk drivers. I didn’t see any of those, but I did encounter drunken horseback riders.

Other photos:

The day’s ride was just under 80 miles, but I felt slow and weak the whole way. I wasn’t two miles from home when I was already trying to figure out what was wrong with myself. I stopped for this turtle, and told the dog’s owner that I was out enjoying the road like the turtle was. That was true in more ways than one. I just couldn’t get any oomph into my riding — not even as much as on previous rides this year. I kind of expect to feel like that when I’m 75 years old, but it’s alarming to be that way now already. And I didn’t even have the wind working against me. For what it’s worth, I felt stronger riding later in the week, even though I couldn’t tell a bit of difference in how I felt off the bike.

I tried a different route between Homer and Litchfield. I think it’s called 26 Mile Road. I had meant to take 27 1/2 Mile Road, which also would have been a change, but somehow did this instead. My Universal Map doesn’t show it all as being paved, but it was paved all the way to the Hillsdale County line. The pavement in many places wasn’t in good enough shape for fast riding, but it was about right for the way I was feeling. And there were very few cars. I may make this my regular route between Homer and Litchfield when I don’t need to be in a great hurry.