My friend took a 240-mile bike ride a couple of weeks ago. He and his brother rode from Georgetown in Washington D.C. along a mostly paved trail to Pittsburgh. He’s a practical guy, knowledgeable about how things work in the mechanical sense, not a mystical bone in his six-foot frame. He’d come over to look at a leak in our roof when he told us this story.
On the first day, they started early and rode to a restaurant outside of D.C. for breakfast. It was closed. They continued on. No more restaurants. No breakfast, no lunch. They had 60 miles to cover before they reached a bed and breakfast. They figured there would be plenty of time to find a good dinner.
Mid-afternoon my friend gets a flat tire. No problem. He put in a new inner tube. But when he inflated the tire with his hand pump, he realized he was in trouble. The inner tube started to protrude through a three-inch slash in the bottom of the tire. He needed a new tire.
He stayed by the roadside with the swarming mosquitoes while his brother rode off in search of the nearest town and a bike shop. The town wasn’t far away, but there was no bike shop. He was telling a cashier at a food mart about his problem when a woman overheard him and offered to drive him to the next town to a shop. (The woman was in a fight with her boyfriend and he saw her drive off with a strange guy, but that’s not part of this story.)
A couple hours later, the brother returns with the tire and a funny story. He waves a spare t-shirt to keep the mosquitoes off my friend as he changes the tire. Now it’s late afternoon and they have 15 miles to ride to the B&B. They head out and soon the paved road ends and they are on dirt, potholes and roots for a few miles.
Eventually, the road gets better and they’re getting close. But they don’t know exactly where the B&B is located and start to wonder if they’ve missed the turnoff. They come to a huge hill. My friend is tired and can’t make it up the hill. They both get off and walk their bikes.
Halfway up the hill, they hear a voice calling out from the woods. “Do…you…need…any…help?”
They stop and look, but they can’t see anyone. Finally, the brother yells out the name of the B&B and asks where it is.
To their surprise, the voice from the woods shouts out precise directions involving several turns. They yell their thanks and continue on. They follow the directions and find the B&B. They never saw anyone back there. It was just a voice from the woods, and synchronicity.
The B&B is isolated. No restaurants nearby. But there’s a refrigerator and another synchronicity inside it. The last people who stayed there had left behind two hot dogs, two pieces of cake and a pint of ice cream. That was dinner.
My friend laughed at the recollection: “It was like a little kid’s dinner, but it was good. And things got better after that.”
It’s a case where dire circumstances lead to unusual and unexpected solutions to problems. Even my practical friend understood that. But when I pushed him about that voice from the woods, he shrugged and said, “Let’s take a look at the roof.”
***
UPDATE
While on Facebook earlier, someone clicks in with a greeting. It’s my brethren, Rob Roy McGregor, writing from Scotland. We’re Facebook friends, never met each other in person, just through e-mails, mostly years ago. He asks what I’m doing. I mention the synchronicity book, and refer him to the blog. He takes a look while we’re still chatting, and he’s fascinated by this bike trip story. The reason: he’s on a bike trip across the Scottish Highlands, and he knows about synchronicity. “I have synchronicities every day on this trip,” he remarked before signing off, and pedalling away.
Rob

















