I can never imagine eating a piece of cake without some type of adornment, e.g., icing, fruit, etc. So it also goes with riding the Great Ohio Bicycle Adventure, it's a great week but a bit of adornment to it helps make it more memorable from year to year.

Riding to GOBA's start in Xenia was made possible by Keith and Jennifer graciously carrying my big, waterproof bag to Xenia and by Chuck Perry hauling it back.

I bounced out of my driveway Saturday morning with my camera gear on the bike and headed to East Broad Street. Taking Broad west all the way through Columbus, I emerged onto the plains and was surprised that I had to find mental fortitude to deal with the flat expanse that lay under my front wheel, around me and into the future. I thought deep thoughts like, "Omi gosh this is boring." And "Just head for the next sign."

From West Jefferson I headed southwest to London with not much more promise of interesting scenery. It was blazing hot and sunny too.

In London I got on the bike path that takes a straight line to Xenia. More flat, more turnless route, more shadeless track under a cloudless sky. Holy jeez. My mind wandered to thoughts of crossing the Western Plains States on a bicycle. How do people do that?

Then I recalled reading an account of three people doing just that and they came up with a solution to the tedium, "The Naked Mile." They each rode for a mile totally naked.

So there I was, riding on a deserted bikepath that runs far from the road and it was hot and nobody else was out. "The Naked Mile" was a mighty uncomfortable sounding prospect so I thought, "What about "The Topless Mile?"

I was ¾ of the way through my "Topless Mile" enjoying the breeze created by riding and the sun on my back when I saw up ahead on the path, the glint of metal off of at least one bicycle. Sucking in my breath, I stopped and hurriedly and all too awkwardly put my top back on.

Soon, a middle-aged couple passed me, gave me a funny look and I chuckled when I realized that I was probably their age or older, in years that is.

GOBA happened: packets were picked up, a bicycling-bill was signed, tents were pitched, miles were ridden, snores were heard, tents were taken down, rain fell, meals were eaten, porta-potties were filled and emptied, trucks transported gear, "On your left" was said a few thousand times, more rain fell, a running race occurred, questions were asked, maps were consulted, hills were enjoyed and cursed, town coordinators fell into their beds when GOBA moved on, showers washed daily grime, dances were danced, songs were sung, museums were visited and memories were catalogued.

All the while that I had planned my "icing trip" around GOBA I thought of Ed Honton and others who have and are promoting the building of the Ohio to Erie Trail, a cross Ohio bike path intended to promote cycling and tourism. In that spirit I finished GOBA in Xenia and from there, I headed north to South Charleston via the bike path where I had a room reserved at the Houstonia B&B. I enjoyed pizza and ice cream at the Purple Monkey Restaurant in town. After that I lay on the front porch swing of the Houstonia reading and kicking off the porch walls to keep the swing in motion.

The following morning I had breakfast with a nice couple from Marion who were escaping their children for one night and a gentleman who had come in late. Turns out he was Stephen Parkhill who had written the book, "Answer Cancer" about his work curing cancer using hypnosis.

He'd flown in from Florida to see a patient somewhere in Madison County who now needed hospice care. He was there to ease her journey. I waited with him on the porch of the Houstonia until the patient's daughter picked him up. I don't know if I eased the thought of his upcoming journey or not. When the car pulled away, I saluted, bowed my head, and then rode towards home.

That morning the weather was beautiful so there were a number of cyclists on the bike path all the way into London. The next attempt at "The Topless Mile" has yet to occur but I suspect that it will sometime, somewhere.