The Coffee Ride and the Importance of Routines

Immediately following, we had an open house for old friends, and given that I'd been gone all morning, I was certainly required to help out--and quick. I should (and do) consider myself privileged to have been allowed to ride at all. It was a good morning for a ride. I rained overnight, but behind the showers milder air moved in, and when I stepped outside this morning, the gloves and hat could stay in my pockets. I can't remember the last time I rode without gloves; it could easily have been back in October. The wind was out of the West, maybe Northwest, so I had it easy, which was good, because my legs aren't the same since I've been to the speedskating oval a few times. "Ice legs," and they don't move as smoothly. What's there to report? The guy with the dog, near the Hilversum airfield wasn't there! What's the world coming to when people start breaking their routines? What was there, as every week (for sure), was the "stormbaan" (obstacle course--don't know the exact translation) at the adjacent Marine complex. Around 1980 I spent a couple of days there, being checked out to see whether for my military service I could join the elite outfit. Because of mild near-sightedness I got rejected (and instead ended up contributing to the Western victory in the Cold War driving a gasoline truck built in about the same year I was born). I didn't have to do the "stormbaan" at that time, but did get to do it during basic training. It's not an easy thing to do, especially not when carrying all your gear, but it doesn't bring up any trauma either, riding by the course every week--on the contrary. Few cyclists at the "Boer." The two elderly ladies who always come in for coffee did show up (albeit too late, so that they had to be at a different table from their usual one, right next to ours; it was upsetting, but I could handle the change). On the way back, outside of Maartensdijk: two approaching, grey haired cyclists. As we got closer, one got behind the other to let us pass. When we did and I looked over, I saw it was my dad's cousin, Gert, and his wife Roelie, who have lived in nearby Achttienhoven/Westbroek for a very long time and must be in their early eighties now. The last time I had seen them was at my dad's funeral, four years ago. Gert fainted there, but look at him now. There was some wind, but there they were, at least a couple of miles from home, perhaps on their way to visit someone, or maybe just to go to the store. They're former farmers, together have raised a family of ten or so, and they (obviously!) have kept to their routines. I'm going to follow their example.