I’m shredding down Afton Mt. at 45 mph under a gray sky, but halt my two wheeled descent for road construction halfway down. From his bundle of clothing and puffy hood, a half jolly, half terrifying hillbilly construction worker with a couple of teeth missing asks how it’s going.
“Chilly,” I say.
“Well you’ve got it made now. It’s all downhill from here. Ha-Ha.”
He looks back down the road to a line of cars coming our way.
“Guess you’re right.”
He turns back to me with wide eyes, “ya know, tha utha day I seen a rider comin up here, ‘n thur was a hay truck ‘n a strang on the back o’ that hay truck, ‘n that rider done grabbed that strang ‘n done got towed up tha mountain. Ha-Ha-Ha.”
He flips his stop sign around and lets me through.
“That was my uncle,” I say as I roll on past him.
Last Wednesday- and that construction worker is still talking about it- my Uncle Dan (Duncle), stopped to take a leak halfway up the mountain. “Phew! If it weren’t for that truck, I never would have seen you guys again,” he said breathlessly leading us to believe that he had motor paced up the mountain to catch us. You never know who’s watching. Ok, so he cheated on the climb, but not many people have the guts to grab a truck on the highway. Then again, not many people have the guts to be riding 80 miles this time of year. Watch out VA. Team King is running wild.
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