Garnet Lowe
I met Garnet Lowe today returning from a bike ride. Meredith J and I were getting back from a rather quick 48 mile ride into the beautiful Kentucky hillside, and soon after we turned on the road where he lived we saw a cyclist ahead of us without a helmet.
I used to get some internal grief about folks not wearing helmets, but not any more. They are out on their bicycles, and that’s a damn sight better than being behind the wheel of an SUV. I happen to put my chances in the camp that wears helmets, but if folks get out and ride without helmets, good for them!
Anyway, when Meredith and I passed this cyclist, he was an old guy on an old bike, and I made the assumption that he was a ‘have to’ cyclist as opposed to a ‘want to’ cyclist. I remembered thinking that he had an interesting face and Meredith remarked that he probably had some stories to tell.
After Meredith turned off at his house I continued on a bit longer route to get to my house, purely by chance, and at the end of a road that has been recently converted to a bike/pedestrian throughfare I ran into the fellow on the bicycle again. He was waiting for a break in the traffic to get across a major road bustling with Christmas shoppers 'in search of '.
Hello again! I said.
You’re one of the fellows that passed me a bit ago, aren’t you? He said.
Well, yes, but that don’t matter, you still beat me here. I said.
He chuckled. He was riding a very cool gray AMF bike that was quite old, a 3 speed with platform pedals. I noticed that it was well cared for, its brake levers shiny and the steel rims with just a hint of rust, just like the old school metal fenders. He was wearing a few layers of flannel, work pants, and thick leather shoes. His face was leathered and I could only discern one tooth in his head. His eyes reminded me of Master Po’s eyes from the old TV series Kung Fu. Ice gray.
Nice bike! I said.
I got it from Howards (a local bike shop). I think it was sometime in the 60’s. It was used, though. I don’t buy much new except food. He said.
I laughed and we introduced ourselves. I’m Garnet Lowe. He said.
Good day for a ride! I said.
I usually ride every day, sometimes 20 miles or so if I can. I guess I have a few miles on this bike over the years. He said.
Well, that bikes a beaut! (I was telling the truth… a really neat machine!) Are you from around here? I asked.
No, I grew up in a small town 25 miles away from here. My family had a tobacco farm there. I live in a retirement village here now. (that retirement village was 10 miles away).
I’ll bet you’ve seen a lot of changes here, I said.
Well, this cemetery (the military cemetery next to where we were stopped) didn’t exist when I moved here and all these houses were woods or farmland. I’ll be buried here someday. He said.
When did you serve? I asked.
World War II, he said. I’m 86, he said.
Wow. Do you still drive? I asked.
Well, I have a license to drive, and I have an old truck, but I’ve not had any reason to haul anything for a while. I don’t suppose I’ve driven in the past couple of years. No reason to, really.
We talked about stuff for the next little bit. His late wife, his family (lack of), the routes we take through the town, my kid. Stuff. There were several breaks in the traffic that would have allowed us to cross safely, but we were enjoying the connection.
That encounter would have never happened between car drivers. The cosmos gave me a gift.
I used to get some internal grief about folks not wearing helmets, but not any more. They are out on their bicycles, and that’s a damn sight better than being behind the wheel of an SUV. I happen to put my chances in the camp that wears helmets, but if folks get out and ride without helmets, good for them!
Anyway, when Meredith and I passed this cyclist, he was an old guy on an old bike, and I made the assumption that he was a ‘have to’ cyclist as opposed to a ‘want to’ cyclist. I remembered thinking that he had an interesting face and Meredith remarked that he probably had some stories to tell.
After Meredith turned off at his house I continued on a bit longer route to get to my house, purely by chance, and at the end of a road that has been recently converted to a bike/pedestrian throughfare I ran into the fellow on the bicycle again. He was waiting for a break in the traffic to get across a major road bustling with Christmas shoppers 'in search of '.
Hello again! I said.
You’re one of the fellows that passed me a bit ago, aren’t you? He said.
Well, yes, but that don’t matter, you still beat me here. I said.
He chuckled. He was riding a very cool gray AMF bike that was quite old, a 3 speed with platform pedals. I noticed that it was well cared for, its brake levers shiny and the steel rims with just a hint of rust, just like the old school metal fenders. He was wearing a few layers of flannel, work pants, and thick leather shoes. His face was leathered and I could only discern one tooth in his head. His eyes reminded me of Master Po’s eyes from the old TV series Kung Fu. Ice gray.
Nice bike! I said.
I got it from Howards (a local bike shop). I think it was sometime in the 60’s. It was used, though. I don’t buy much new except food. He said.
I laughed and we introduced ourselves. I’m Garnet Lowe. He said.
Good day for a ride! I said.
I usually ride every day, sometimes 20 miles or so if I can. I guess I have a few miles on this bike over the years. He said.
Well, that bikes a beaut! (I was telling the truth… a really neat machine!) Are you from around here? I asked.
No, I grew up in a small town 25 miles away from here. My family had a tobacco farm there. I live in a retirement village here now. (that retirement village was 10 miles away).
I’ll bet you’ve seen a lot of changes here, I said.
Well, this cemetery (the military cemetery next to where we were stopped) didn’t exist when I moved here and all these houses were woods or farmland. I’ll be buried here someday. He said.
When did you serve? I asked.
World War II, he said. I’m 86, he said.
Wow. Do you still drive? I asked.
Well, I have a license to drive, and I have an old truck, but I’ve not had any reason to haul anything for a while. I don’t suppose I’ve driven in the past couple of years. No reason to, really.
We talked about stuff for the next little bit. His late wife, his family (lack of), the routes we take through the town, my kid. Stuff. There were several breaks in the traffic that would have allowed us to cross safely, but we were enjoying the connection.
That encounter would have never happened between car drivers. The cosmos gave me a gift.
posted by Woodog at 10:29 PM
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