burgeoning bike-opolis
Okay, so, day two of my trip east. I’d planned to wake up super-early and get cracking, but you know what they say about plans. (Actually, what do they say about plans? If you find out, please let me know.) I decided to sleep in until the luxuriously late hour of 8, at which point I ambled down to the hotel’s alleged “breakfast” area. Did you know that powdered sugar donuts, when taken straight from an ice cold fridge to a warm, humid Atlanta day, turn to slush? That’s okay—my stomach didn’t care about the texture, so long as there were carbs hiding in there somewhere.
Now it was 9:00 on what was shaping up to be a gorgeous Atlanta Saturday. Time to take the rented bike somewhere cool.
stone mountain trail: 22 miles
Atlantans are kind of apologetic about their bike situation. Why? Stand up, guys, and be proud of your burgeoning bike-opolis! You have a published map of the easiest-to-bike roads in mid-town, a “Silver Comet” trail that stretches all the way to the Alabama border, and a dedicated path that takes you from downtown to Stone Mountain. For my Saturday adventure, I chose the latter.
The trail starts near the intersection of Central Park and Highland Drive, a little north of downtown. From there, it winds through suburbia, occasionally dropping out of existence for a block or two. In most cases, there’s some kind of a sign telling you how to find the next segment; at other times, I depended on the kindness of strangers, or the strangeness of bikers, or something.
Eventually, Stone Mountain looms into view, and the trail dumps out onto the local streets that lead to the park gates. The gate staff pleasantly wave bikers through, and the ride ends at Memorial Hall, with a decent view of the famous rock carving. I gulped down black-eyed peas, mashed potatoes, and unsweet tea, and relaxed at my outdoor table.
Rather than bike all the way back, I took the faster route of cycling just to the easternmost train station. It was just a quick little suicide run down Memorial, and I made it through in one piece. Dropped the bike off at the rental shop, and public-transported myself back to the hotel.
As with the previous day, the time schedules lined up nearly to the second. Just enough time to cool off, hose down, and head out. I had been invited to a barbecue celebrating the recent wedding of one of Portia’s friends. BBQ can evoke a certain humid, cicada-soundtracked nostalgia: the outdoor tables, the paper plates, the white bread, the coleslaw….
To round out the day, we visited more friends in nearby Athens. The Thai restaurant had a whole page of vegetarian options—in the South, no less! I could have wept. Anyhoo, amongst the revelers was a birthday boy celebrating his “twenthy-tenth,” so we headed to Door 13 for good local brew and sucking at pool.
When I returned to my hotel, the entire parking lot was overtaken by cars whose passengers were no doubt at the topless bar next door to the left, or perhaps the topless bar next door to the right (I told you it was a classy place!). Bouncers directed traffic (God forbid anyone would actually want to park at the hotel, like, you know, a guest!), and Tejano music blared at impressive levels. Somehow, the paper-thin walls deadened things to where I could sleep for a couple of hours before the Next Day’s Interstate Adventure….