Morley to Lansing

July 16, 2003

Westbound: Ludington to Morley Eastbound: Lansing to Chelsea

I got up and out as soon as I could and found a small grocery store open near the center of town. I confirmed with the lady in charge that I had not missed a café or other opportunity for a full breakfast. It took a bit to decide on what to eat; I settled on some sliced ham and grapes. While I was standing in the store munching my meal, I asked her why Morley was a trucking capital. She explained that Morley’s location made it very convenient as a home for truck drivers and that Morley actually had more truckers than any other town in the state.

Something she said then reminded me of the former state senator from the area, who later was Lt. Governor of the state. My hostess was clearly a strong Republican so there was no point in discussing the merits of the people and positions, but we did have perceptions to share and a story or two to swap. Once I finished my “breakfast” I thanked her for conversation, confirmed the exit from town, and got under way.

The back road out of town was ok and I soon reached 150^th Avenue, my next turn south. When I reached M 48, it looked, on that quiet morning, much nicer than these back roads. It wasn’t as nice as M 37 had been but—ever the optimist—I took it anyway. It didn’t improve but soon got me to M 91 which was a lovely, quiet highway heading south with a good shoulder. Now I was happy. I followed M 91 until lunch at Burger King at Cooks Corners. Note that this was my first franchise hamburger of the tour. It was also the most easterly free refill of Coca-Cola I encountered, and the most easterly free refill of any beverage I encountered.

I might mention also stopping at a convenience store on M91 that was singular in the hostility of the person behind the counter. I drank my beverage and ate my snack at the far end of the parking lot. While I rested, nibbled, and sipped, I watched customers come and go—no one lingered—and a delivery or two. Only the two deliverymen were thinner than me and I was still carrying extra weight from too many pizzas and refills. The customers drove their big cars right up to the door, got their snacks, and rode off, apparently contented. As a former public health person, it made me more sad than smug.

My route as planned had been to ride M 91 from Greenville to Cooks Corner and then to resume my exploration of back roads. It turns out that last, southern stretch was the least attractive part of M 91. With the good experience on the northern segment as encouragement, I thought I would modify my route to stay on 91 all the way to Grand River. When, however, I reached M 44, a detour blocked my path to the continuation of M 91 and my original route as the better option. I followed that path through Smyrna, found myself again on M 91, now just a two lane road with no shoulder, but missed the turn for Jacoby Road because it was a dirt road. Apparently I trusted DeLorme without getting confirmation from my Michigan Atlas. When M 91 turned back west a bit, I knew there was a problem. I almost got out the Dell and the GPS but settled for using a magentic compass to confirm that my internal compass had not between disoriented. Another mile and a half got me to Potters Road which led to Potters Corners where I could turn south on Hawley Highway—also two lanes—regain my original route, and reach Grand River Avenue.

Grand River Avenue had been a major east-west connector in Michigan before the construction of I 96 which closely parallels it. Near Detroit and within Lansing, it is still a vital thoroughfare. Out here, it’s a tired, back road. The traffic was light, the pavement was bad, and I bumped and bounced my way to Portland.

My Michigan Riding Companion

Shortly after leaving Portland, I was going up a modest hill at my usual, very slow pace. I had early concluded that spinning up any hill slowly was worth any delay compared to burning my legs out for an extra 2 mph. As I was creeping up this hill, a fellow passed me riding an upright bike. No surprise there. Some toddlers on tricycles might dust me up hill after lunch. Once I crested the small hill, I discovered that not only did I enjoy the usual recumbent advantage on the flats, he was riding no faster on the flat than up hill. At the next hill, he passed me again. In each encounter, there was no interaction. On the second crest, I fell in beside him and got a conversation going. It turns out that he is primarily a gym rat but has taken to commuting on the bicycle as an additional form of training. His style made it clear that improving as a cyclist was not on his agenda. He was happy to ride his miles—weather permitting—and get to or from work. Within minutes we had a vibrant conversation under way. Then there was traffic. At first I tried to fall back and let him go first. He would not accelerate. After the third car, I found it easier to watch the mirror, sprint ahead, and then hit the brakes. It seemed inconsistent with my usual effort to conserve energy, but special circumstances require adaptation. The thing that really surprised me was how well I could sprint for a few yards. A month on the road might have made a difference? We stopped for a drink at his usual convenience store and then headed toward Grand Ledge where his path separated from mine. He was the only cyclist I rode beside the entire trip.

Grand Ledge is a real suburb of Lansing. I couldn’t use the Interstate and the road I chose from the map—it being on the west side of town, I never went there in eight years of living on the east side—turned out to be narrow and busy with early rush hour traffic. I did inconvenience a few drivers going up a small hill and they let me know about their suffering. Eventually, even soon, I emerged near the Red Roof on the west side of Lansing and checked in. As I edit this part of the report, I have a recent discussion on the TouringList in mind in which we bounced the issue of finding our way in a strange city. These few miles on the “wrong” side of a city where I lived show that there is no substitute for actual knowledge and failing that, flexibility and patience.

By prior arrangement, I called my former boss on his cell phone to let him know I had reached town and where I was. He was still in Flint, a bit more than an hour from his home and another twenty minutes from the motel. He said he was almost on his way and would call before leaving home. That gave me time to arrange breakfast with my former secretary, to change both tires, to organize, and to clean up.

I hadn’t seen Bob and Suzanne since their youngest son’s wedding in 1996. They took me to an Italian restaurant near the motel. It was even better than the place in Ludington and certainly balanced out the prior night’s VFW experience. We had a great talk about the trip, their sons, their parents, and how they feel about being in their late 60's. Eventually, we all ran out of gas and they dropped me off.

A nice ride capped with a super visit.

91.38 miles in 6:51 on the bike for an average of 13.3 mph.

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Westbound: Ludington to Morley Eastbound: Lansing to Chelsea