Most days when I go for a bicycle ride, I’m just out there pedaling the miles away. Nothing out of the ordinary is going on, no unusual sights or anything peculiar. I like those kind of rides. They allow me to just pedal, focus and think of nothing. They also allow me to enjoy the scenery, if there is any, without wondering if I should be contemplating a blog about every farting thing I roll past.

Then there are the rides, when I choose to go meandering about or what I like to a “Fukawee Ride”, where I will see things that I prompt a picture and blog about it. These rides usually happen on weekends when I have more time and the likelihood of some oddity being sighted along my route is quite high. I like these rides too, they appeal to the adventurous part of me and gives me good cause to take the Harley down the same roads. Exploring is good for us, it opens our eyes.

On this particular occasion, my ride revealed nothing out of the ordinary. I elected this time to go a loop that would take me along the ocean north through Point Pleasant Beach, at which point I would turn inland. Sort of a shore to forest ride. Just like any time when I do this loop, there is nothing but the usual sights to be seen.

Sure there were the hoards of beach tourists from all walks of life, walking towards and away from the beach and boardwalk with their faces in their phones, not paying any attention to crosswalks, signals, traffic or people on bicycles (uh-hem). Sure, there were doors flinging open on large out of state SUV’s and aforementioned beach tourists haphazardly wielding their beach chairs, bags and towels in every direction, including into the way of oncoming traffic and cyclists (uh-hem). And yes, there were even local beach goers and out of school youths riding their beach cruisers along the same SUV lined streets, with beach chairs, surf boards and beach bags strapped to their fat tired modes of transportation all the while texting and riding like they were drunk. And naturally there would be a motorcade of stretch strollers lumbering through every open space to cross roads, with dozens of screaming me-me’s bouncing all over creation in anything but a straight line to and from parked cars lining every single street within a quarter mile inland of the boardwalk. Yes, this time of year, there exists a population unto itself that migrates from hither and yon to the great litter box that lines the Atlantic Ocean along the New Jersey coast.

So, nothing out of the ordinary on this ride. But, when I got to the Manasquan Inlet and looked east, the moon hung over the Atlantic as though it was waiting for the opportunity to dive in. It is this type of thing that brings me this way every time.

Out of the way lemmings!!!