Centrepiece Online | Spring 2012

Endpiece: Same Destination, Different Route

by Mary Beth Dumstorf Brown '01

The dozens of round trips I took from Louisville to Danville have blurred together in my memory. Outside the car window, the Kentucky countryside whizzed by: a spectacular sunset, illuminated fences, distant horses. Inside, road trip food, a special song, discussions about impending tests or papers.

Last October, our annual Homecoming pilgrimage took on a life of its own. Instead of renting a car, my husband, Eric Brown ’01, and I decided to take a few extra days and make the journey by bicycle.

We have been car-free since December 2009, when my beloved first car, a 1997 Plymouth Neon, refused to start. This challenge—initially stressful and unwelcome—has introduced us to a brand new world of opportunities. With helpful and experienced friends to guide us, we have seen the best of humanity. With our new vulnerability, however, we have also experienced ignorance, potholes, bike lanes in car door zones, and aggressive drivers. Alternative transportation options are few, while parking lots, extra lanes, and roads are funded without question. We are learning firsthand how human-scale urban design affects the livability and health of a community—something perhaps we took for granted during our time in Strasbourg.

But this trip to Danville wasn’t about illuminating the plight of citizen underdogs; it was about taking advantage of lovely fall weather to push ourselves physically, with the reward of reconnecting with old friends at Homecoming. An added bonus was exploring a new liquor store downtown (!), followed by wine with dinner at Freddie’s (!!).

Riding out of Louisville wasn’t a problem; we took the bus. After loading our bikes on TARC’s front racks and hauling our gear inside, we enjoyed a last respite before our trek officially began. The No. 17 took us way out US-150 and dropped us, unceremoniously, in a heap of panniers, sleeping bags, bungee cords, and a tent. The expanse of asphalt looked so wide that just crossing the six lanes seemed daunting. I didn’t want to think about the 60 miles ahead of us.

Choosing touring routes is a laborious task. You try to avoid the thick, straight lines and opt for the thin, meandering paths. Some roads looked little more than wide bike lanes, made especially for us, leading us through woods and fields, past little houses and barns. When we had no choice but to use the shoulder of a highway, our stress levels skyrocketed with the steel and wheels zipping by.

On the second day, after a frosty night of camping in a state park, a groundskeeper’s blaring WHAS sports radio reminded us how close we were to Louisville. It didn’t feel like it. We slipped into Perryville after lunch, and then continued on to Danville. The bypass loomed large before us, the noise and wind from semis battering our senses. But it was the only way to reach our hotel.

I held my breath as my bike tripped over debris and trucks roared by.

Riding from the hotel onto campus was short and easy, and I was relieved to wear my city-riding gear (nicer clothes, even heels). Once on Centre’s campus, bike parking, street lights, and dedicated bike lanes welcomed us. We turned down kind offers of rides from friends. Hearing and seeing the campus by bike was a feast for the senses; how could we resist that opportunity? Despite the disconcerting effect of so many new and re-faced buildings, I felt like I was back home. Thankfully, the JVAC smelled the same and still preserved glimpses of my Centre life from a decade ago.

Slowing down the journey to Centre reminded me how important it is to practice savoring. When I was learning to drive, my best friend’s mom advised me to “never let someone else drive your car” when I nervously accelerated due to another driver tailing me. We’ve taken that to an extreme with bicycle commuting. Though we’re slower in getting to our destination, we’re finding that the ride is much more enjoyable at this pace.

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