We were hungover. No surprise. Annick took us out to breakfast at Bread Alone Bakery in Boiceville, on Route 28. We dined alfresco on delicious breakfast sandwiches as chickens wondered around our table begging for handouts. I am a sucker. The chickens targeted me immediately. It was Sunday morning, so the café was busy with well-dressed people going to or coming from worship. Given the styles of dress, language, and hairdos, our fellow diners enjoyed many different practices of worship.
After goodbye hugs and photos with Annick, we rode out onto the broad, smooth roadway. New York State Route 28 intersects many major highways, so we had to merge into a significant flow of traffic. It takes coordination and patience for two bikes to merge like this, we try to stay close together to present a bigger presence to traffic and, well, to stay together. We have a system wherein the leader gets an okay from each person in the group (on our first trip, this meant Emmett, John, and me), then nods like a violinist in a string quartet signaling the downbeat, and off we go. John and I nodded to one another and raced out into the fray. We are a good riding team in this way, always keeping close, but not too close, always watching out for one another. Whenever we needed to turn or deviate from the course we always discussed before mounting our bikes, John would signal me with his downward right palm meaning “slow down and pay attention.”