The villagers didn't pay any attention to me, Thursday, and no one pursued me to this place.
Thursday evening, I checked with the Gallatin locals who said, “When they issue a tornado warning, then you should pay attention,” but said they thought the severe thunderstorm wouldn’t materialize. I was glad when they said that and headed out Nashville Pike, feeling subversive riding in traffic, to a street named Something Circle, between a Wendy’s fast food restaurant and either a strip mall or a sit-down chain restaurant (all that commercial stuff looks alike on a busy four-lane).
Certainly it was warm enough, outside, and would have been humid if it hadn’t been windy. I welcomed the wind because it made flight problematic for the variety of little, whitish colored gnats that swarm in the area of an evening. The neighborhoods I rode through were pleasant and shady – mostly attractive, 40 year-old Tennessee brick houses with established lawns and leafy trees for landscaping.
I found a street that cut through to Lock 4 Road, which runs the length of a peninsula of sorts to Sumner County Park. I turned right and pedaled to the park over a series of more and steeper hills than I am used to riding here at Stepford. This being the third time I rode the hills, I found them easier than I had when first encountered Monday night. Near the road’s end, not far from the entrance of the park, I negotiated a bolted-down speed bump, riding the six inches of pavement between its end and the ditch.
At the park, I saw an old man fishing at a dock with a little boy. I saw young people sitting across from each other at a covered picnic area. I saw two men fishing at the lake’s shore. The water looked calm. The grassy slopes leading down to the water’s edge looked like a good place to launch a kayak. I rode on back out of the park past where mountain-bike trails crossed the paved park road. At Lock 4 Road, I turned right and pedaled a short way and right again up a gravel road to the silo pictured above. Although I am no fan of horror movies, even the early Universal films of that genre, I found myself thinking of Boris Karloff, whose stage name inspired my Internet moniker. I snapped a couple of pictures of my Razesa by the dilapidated concrete structure, then rode back to the hotel.