Sanibel day four: Phillip K Dick

I'm 120 pages deep into Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and I prefer the book to Blade Runner. I consider Blade Runner a brilliant cinematic work.

I'm spinning a bit on how my own books, many of them half or a quarter or even less begun, will emerge. I want to--must do these and I've let these strange children vacillate in the fridge for so long.

I feel that I'm at the height of my powers (so far) and if ever I was going to, it's now. Simultaneously, I have some doubts (plenty, really) on how I'll weave together a proper storyline. My imagination, verbal rendering ability and pluck are firing. My story structure needs some work. (and where to begin?)

One thing I've realized is that, no matter when I start working on a story or what good ideas I've forgotten, it's okay that some stories are lost. For every Uly, there were millions of other possible children, all wonderful, lovable and joys in their own right.

But they don't exist. He does. The same is true of artistic and literary work. The possibles could have been great, too. But only a few make it through and become Velveteen.

The constant in the works is me, and that's okay in and of itself.

We'll be passing back through Gainesville on the way home. I plan to stop there as I did in that dream that was part of the MLK story I'm developing.

David True - if you read this, thank you for giving me VALIS! (another PK Dick book and the first I had heard of this author.)

- Steve

Sanibel Island Vacation Day 2: The Island Cow, Ate Some Gator

Sanibel Island Vacation Day 1: Caught three fish!

Novotni Family VBlog Sept. 16

Uly and Dad say hi, sing a song

Columbus to Cincinnati by Bicycle

Even after sleeping an indulgent 11 hours at the Holiday Inn, my joints felt rubbery. My riding buddy, Thurman Allen, a teacher at Mason High School, was worse off--he was only able to sleep about five hours and was considering whether or not to get someone to drive him back to Cincinnati. We had come 64 miles by bike from Columbus so far, arriving at Xenia Station, the hub of Southwestern Ohio’s network of bicycle trails.

I’ve planned to complete an inter-city ride for years, but this was the first time I actually felt prepared to see it through. I trained all summer long, logging 50-60 miles a week on my bicycle in urban Cincinnati. Thurman had completed several other long rides before this one. Our bikes, Gary Fisher and Trek hybrids, were in tune and loaded with gear. We had lights, mirrors, food, water and a repair kit.

The journey began just north of Ohio State University campus. We left around 6 a.m. on Saturday and spun through Columbus’ fun network of commuter trails to Route 40 (Broad Street). Rain poured the night before our ride, so there was a graciously thick fog shielding us from the sun.

We completed 30 miles of road riding—Columbus to West Jefferson along Route 40 and then south on Route 142 to the southern leg of the Ohio to Erie Trail in London. The bike trail is a paved road that’s limited to bikes and walkers and is more than 70 miles long, stretching from Newtown to London. When it’s completed it will offer nearly 300 miles of contiguous, car-free riding from the Ohio River to Lake Erie.

Two years ago I attempted this ride by way of Georgesville, using winding rural roads and a mountain bike and I didn’t make it past London. The difference was profound. Thurman and I covered the entire distance between Columbus and London in less than four hours. Last time it took more than ten.
Drivers were really well behaved along the route we took this time. Everyone got over for us as they passed and nobody was rude. The farmland was gorgeous, lush and green. Horses, cows and llamas studied us as we passed. We stopped at a hardware store to replace a lost bolt on Thurman’s bike and later at a large power line junction to listen to the crackling of the electricity extending into the humid air.

Thurman’s legs were screaming when we pulled into London and we should have taken the warning and stopped there. I wanted to eat at a local place instead of fast food, Thurman didn’t want to bother stopping for water and the next stop was just 13 miles away, so we rode on. He was pretty beat up and dehydrated by the time we entered South Charleston, and we took a long break for lunch at one of the town’s few restaurants, The Blue Point Café. A motorcyclist in London recommended the fare—huge burgers that rival a Chipotle burrito’s mass.

The 19 miles to Xenia were pleasant and scenic with a flat, open landscape. We rolled through Cedarville and passed what was apparently a cornhole tournament. I broke three spokes and my rear wheel and it wobbled badly as we approached the midway point of our trip, but we found a bike shop in Xenia (K&G Bike Center) open late on Saturday that patched me up.

Thurman didn’t bail on Sunday morning. He told me later that he didn’t want to let me down and it was guilt that kept him on track. We started back on the trail at 9:30 a.m. and stopped in Spring Valley (74 miles into the trip) to adjust our seats. Oregonia was next at mile 86. We stopped for drinks and lunch before moving on. The nicely shaded outdoor patio is terrific at the Little River Café, a destination for cyclists and bikers.

We found a swimming hole in the Little Miami River at 91 miles into the trip and I dove in to cool off. The water was freezing, but still refreshing. The river was filled with canoes. Kids climbed an old tree hanging over the water, dropping 15 feet to make a splash below.

It was almost 3:30 p.m. and at mile 107 when we arrived in Loveland’s Nisbet Park, which is what most folks think of when you talk about the bike trail. The trail between here and Xenia has more trees than up north, so it’s always cool, even on very hot days. I was relieved to be so close to home and ready to finish. My rear was getting really sore and my hands were shaky, but I felt really alive—hyperaware and my senses keen.

Thurman and I jumped off the trail just south of there, heading through Indian Hill, Madeira and Kenwood before we reached home.

We covered a total of 124 miles on our excursion. My head reeled with images of the trip and I spent an hour or more silently studying shapes and light as I came down from the high of what we’d just done. Traveling this way impressed upon me how much energy it really takes to get from one point to another. It was incredibly rewarding and I’m looking forward to the ride to Lake Erie.

- Stephen Carter-Novotni