You never know what you're going to run into on a long ride. Or for that matter, what'll run into you. Lonnie would prove that later, as we left Burgaw for Fayetteville, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.
It had been a good day's ride. Diverse, bright and clear, with a cool destination and a nice smoke column distraction. Rolling into Burgaw, I was sure we would easily find the row of classic cars that attracted Guillermo, since it was such a small town.
Thing is, it wasn't such a small town. Not only that, but the road had been longer than expected, and it was dinnertime. The classic cars had all but vanished, though the town was still abuzz with the Blueberry Festival.
We parked, and I picked up my cell.
Guillermo and Elena were across the square from where we parked. The going was slow as we made our way through the crowd, but my butt was glad to be off the bike, and with the smell of funnel cakes in the air, the spring was back in my step.
Once we found Guillermo and Elena, it didn't take us long to find the funnel cake concession and then Wild Bill's root beer stand. There you could buy a somewhat pricey mug, but then fill it up as many times as you wanted.
The root beer hit the spot. It was cold and tasty, and the big pint-and-a-half tin mug had a satisfying feel to it.
We found a picnic table, and it was good to catch up a bit and talk about the grape leaf thingies that Elena had gotten for us to try. (I didn't think they were anything to write home about, but don't tell her.)
We checked out the BBQ sauce tent, watched a guy who looked like Santa in a hawaiian shirt, and took a few miscellaneous pictures. We didn't buy (or see, for that matter) any blueberries, though I'm sure we could've found some if we wanted.
Our hunger satisfied, we stuffed the souvenir mugs into our saddlebags, stopped at the gas station, and got behind Guillermo and Elena for the ride to their house in Fayetteville.
The car took the lead, Lonnie followed them, and I brought up the rear. Though the day was beginning to fade, it was perfect for riding, and with spirits high from meeting up - and buzzing from all the root beer - we rode west.
Suddenly, Lonnie seemed to lose power and started to slow down. My mind immediately went to the slow start at the gas station earlier, but soon it was clear there was more than a bike problem.
Lonnie was squirming.
I didn't know what to think, but as we pulled off on the grass shoulder, it was clear he wasn't making a leisurely stop. He was off his bike in a blink.
The wasp that had gone up his shirt sleeve had managed to sting him several times while he was stopping, so he wasted no time in dispatching it. I was just relieved it wasn't something more serious, and after he finished blowing off some steam, we had a good laugh about it.
By the time Guillermo had realized we dropped off, had turned around, and was arriving back where we were, we were getting back on the road to finish the day's ride.
Next: A Sunday Miracle on the Golf Course
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