Arrows are my lifeline. I'm not talking lifeline as on the millionaire show, these are truly a lifeline. Without them, I would probably have perished by now in some obscure town in western MA.
This was brought home on a ride. I had gone out to do the outer part of the famous Tipperary ride, and was returning from Hollis. I was doing fine following the shamrock arrows, except for a momentary lapse of reason when I decided to follow the tail of the shamrock rather than the head. Then, I got to a town where a left turn was indicated. There were a couple of possible roads, and I must have gone up the wrong one, but, not to worry, I found another arrow I recognized, one from Ann-Marie's ride. So rather than backtracking a couple of hundred yards, I decided to follow it, since it went to the same place anyway. So I was merrily following these arrows, and they were joined by other arrows, BMB arrows, NVP century arrows, all heading vaguely in the right direction. Got a little worried when I came to a choice between the medium and long ride of Ann-Marie's, since it occurred to me that I might not be homeward bound, but outward bound. I picked medium, figuring it was at most a 30 mile ride anyway. At one point I lost the Ann-Marie arrows, but there were enough other familiar arrows to see me through. Then, horror of horrors, the unspeakable happened, new pavement.
There I was, stranded, arrowless, I would have to fly on instruments. After a worrisome mile or so, though, I returned to old pavement cum arrows. Actually, I had more arrows than I needed. I'd get to a turn and there'd be an arrow going left, and another going right. I decided to go with the majority. By this time I had at various times shamrocks, Ann-Marie arrows, Jim McGarry's chevrons, and the NVP century, all of which would land me close to home, except for the last, which would deposit me in Wayland.
Having run out of water a few miles ago, I was quite happy to bail if any of the rides got me onto Route 225, the great bicycle superhighway. Finally, I found a Rich Field arrow, which I knew would get me there. Somehow my dehydrated brain reasoned that it was better to go over three major hills than ride 1/4 mile of construction. But I did indeed find my way home, whereupon I, camel-like, consumed about a gallon of water and lemonade, and all was well again. God bless those arrows.
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