HB-04 has been put through its paces this month, including a rare car trip up to Westfield for the Great River Ride 100K Challenge.
I thought there were “quaint New England” locales in Hartford County, but little did I understand how tainted my home was. Traffic lights, chain stores, towns with populations numbering in the thousands… a veritable nest of barbarism and decay. Come with me as we explore the majestic vistas of the boonies.
We start in Westfield, a town that seems to deftly split the difference between Springfield and Northampton. But a short bit of cycling and we’re off into the woods (punctuated by farms).
Panorama 1: Learning the Craft
If you want to capture church steeples, be sure to get some elevation on the connecting scenery.
Here we see the Montgomery town center, a complex of ONECs (Old New England Churches) that now serve as town buildings. That phenomenon in itself isn’t uncommon back home, but in this example the complex seems to be made exclusively of colonial-era buildings that encompass all of the typical town-center functions.
Panorama 2: The Sound of Water is the Sound of Civilization
Here we see a bubbling brook flowing by the roadway – that soothing sound being a near constant accompaniment throughout this ride. Roadways along water routes are quite common in this region, as in colonial times settlements were connected by a robust network of jet ski rental services.
Panoramas 3 & 4: For What it’s Worthington
A single panorama is wholly inadequate for taking in the quaintness that is the South Worthington junction.
Panorama 5: Last Off
Here’s where I started to run out of gas. The Worthington Inn beckoned, but under the circumstances, I decided to press on. (Said circumstances being COVID and most definitely NOT the probable cost of overnighting at such an establishment).
The shadows grew longer then, as night fell, intense cramping entered my legs, and waves of nausea entered my digestive tract. Desperate for hope, I was again drawn by the sound of water, but looking over a rail, saw only a dark, inky abyss.
Here my reason left me – flying into the wilderness, I zigzagged the countryside in panic, howling at the moon and cursing the bike shop that had tempted me to this place of desolation.
But in that pit of darkness and despair, my headlamp just chanced to cast a glow upon a sign… a sign with a familiar name.
Westfield awaited – with its traffic lights, chain stores, and population numbering in the thousands!
