To paraphrase the old Beach Boy’s hit of 1964, I’m getting bugged riding up and down the same old strip. Every time I leave my house to go for a ride, I find myself on the same stretches of road. Familiar pavement, familiar houses, same old trees. Watch that intersection – it’s a bad one. Careful along this stretch – it’s where the deer cross. Stay near the inside on this corner to avoid the tar strips that can make the front end wiggle when it’s hot.

The trouble is, as the years have passed, the range of the intimately familiar has expanded correspondingly. I have to ride further and further in order to encounter roads I haven’t ridden before, to experience something new, to engage my jaded eye. I look at the map and all I see is roads I’ve ridden countless times before. I know the roll of the land, the smell of the woods and fields, the shape of the rocks. Sometimes, it’s a huge bother to put my riding gear on, wheel the bike out of the garage only to ride down roads I know so well. Sometimes I don’t bother at all. And yet….here’s the magic. If I can get over that first hurdle, slap on my boots and jacket and get past the end of the driveway, I never regret it.

For years now, on most non-winter Sunday mornings, I go for a ride for an hour or so. I almost always take the same route – a fifty mile loop along pleasantly curvy roads, between forested knolls and low hills, past old farmsteads and lakes. It’s close, and combines two of the best roads in my area. There’s rarely any traffic. I consider it busy if I see two or three vehicles. By any measure it’s enjoyable riding and I’m lucky to have it on my doorstep. Unlike many, I don’t have to struggle through vast urban areas and miles of highway riding just to be able to ride somewhere pleasant. I’m lucky, I know, but occasionally that doesn’t seem to be enough.

尽管几乎每一寸的这条路“r, there’s always something new. Just last Sunday I stopped briefly where a culvert runs beneath the road linking two lakes. Road crews had unblocked the culvert end where a beaver had plugged it with an enormous jam of branches, rocks and mud. Rafts of water lily roots were being eyed up by loons as possible nesting platforms. Two large turtles had found a place to sun themselves on a floating log. Turkey vultures flew up ahead of me, disturbed from picking at a two-dimensional squirrel. There is something about the movement, the air on my face, the sound of whichever bike I’m riding, and the joy of keeping the machine on that narrow strip of tarmac between the trees that never fails to please and inspire.

So don’t sit on the couch mentally riding those familiar roads and deciding that you’ve done it all before and you don’t need to bother. Get up. Drag on that jacket. Zip up those boots and get that motor running. I know we should all be worried about putting more pollution into the atmosphere, but on the big scheme of things, our bikes aren’t huge contributors to global warming. If you’re feeling low, there are few better ways of bringing a little sparkle into your life than a good long ride. If your body aches, you may find that concentrating on riding helps take your mind off the discomfort. If you are overwhelmed by work or depressed by the state of the world, a ride may help. Don’t speed. Stop often. Take a few moments to examine those things you’ve flashed by so many times but never really seen. That regular ride on roads you know so well still has many secrets to reveal. At least, that’s what I’ll tell myself next Sunday morning when I’m deciding whether to burrow down under the bed covers or to get up, get dressed, and ride that same old strip.