With the spring beginning in earnest, a middle-aged man’s thoughts turn to the task of keeping his spare tire deflated. This important work involved mounting the two-tired machine and taking a bike ride.

Having received the gift of an early quitting time from the construction gods, this plumber decided to air up the tires on his bike and hit the North Lawrence levee. The time was 5:30 p.m. and the better half was on her way to the gym on this sunny late afternoon. I walked my bicycle alongside her and dropped her off at Therapy Works at Sixth and Maine for her class at 6:00. Then, the adventure began.

Pedaling my way through the Pinckney Neighborhood, I took the time to look at some of the houses that were being renovated. It is always a pleasure to see the old homes of Lawrence getting a face lift. Then, on through Constant Park with its trees in full leaf and looking like the late frost hadn’t taken too great a toll. Past the sewage lift station and onto the sidewalk along Sixth Street then a quick left turn to cross the Vermont Street bridge.

The Kaw is still swollen from our many days of rain, but you can tell that the water level is on the way down. Looking similar to Willy Wonka’s chocolate river, the current is swift and the water boils and churns under me as I cross the bridge. On the north side of the bridge comes the time of decision. The choice is whether to go under the bridge and east, (a great ride to check on the progress of local gardens, meet other bikers, walkers, and runners, and possibly take a tour of the mountain-bike trail), or go west and north and make it to the country a little sooner. Today, the country is where I long to be.

The small ramp down from the bridge always gives the bike a good start on the levee. The trail bends north, west, and north again along the banks of the Kaw. On my right is the back of Johnny’s Tavern where it looks like they are doing good business. Further along, I pass the trailer park where several children enjoy the day playing in the expanse of grass near their neighborhood. As the bike and I make our way past a pump station which is at the half-mile mark, (so noted by the rather gravestone looking granite plaque in the ground), I hear the pump laboring to keep the excess water out of North Lawrence. As it pumps the water into the slough which feeds the river I think to myself, “Keep up the good work”.

As I approach I-70, the noise from the barreling eighteen wheelers and the cars hurtling at 70 mph plus is intense. It’s best to make a quick pace and get past this section to quieter places. Leaving I-70 behind, I see the first of two long coal trains as it makes its way towards Lawrence and taking many, many rail cars full of black energy to points east. The engineers are usually quick to return a wave, and we exchange our brief and long-distance greetings as his diesel engines roar and his horn deafens, though it is music to my ears. Soon, I take the road down to the boat ramp on my left to check on the river on more time.

It’s here that my payoff really begins. Just past the boat ramp, you come to the first field and it is teaming with bright green wheat. In one short month, this will be acres and acres of gold, then stubble, then possibly another green crop. To my left is a dense stand of trees, mostly cottonwoods, and to my right is wheat fields, alfalfa, and the fallow furrows, but now the growing quiet is all around me.

Since this an exercise ride, I shift into a higher gear and pick up the pace, but I keep my attention on the sights. This is one of the few times that I am grateful that I wear glasses, because the insect population is great on this day. The lenses in front of my eyes shield me from having to blink away a variety of gnats, flies, ladybugs, and the occasional high-jumping grasshopper. The swallows are busy trying to keep the bug count down as they track their meals with jet-like movements. I imagine myself riding through what was once a much wider river bed as I gaze at the hills to the north, guessing that they were once the banks of the miles-wide river.

Coming to a junction of a gravel road, I take the sharp right and head due east. It’s then that I look down at my odometer/clock and notice it’s time to head back and pick up my wife from her hour at the gym. On an hour-long ride, I can’t tour as much of Lawrence and the countryside as I would like. Today is such an intoxicating pleasure after the long rains and the freezing weather before that. But I’m grateful to live where this kind of bike ride is possible. I look forward to a long summer of wheeling around town and into the lands beyond.