Bicycling in Tremont

Dave, Scott and I were bicycling on the bare ground alongside a railroad going east out of Tremont IL.  There were two tracks and on each track was a locomotive engine going about the same speed we were.  They were apparently checking the rail conditions because I noticed several sections of deteriorated rail where the engine would slow down and just crawl over it.  At one point the top portion of the rail was completely broken away, but the engine was able to roll on.  I backed off so I wasn’t right next to it for fear that it would derail or flop over on its side, but it didn’t.  I was surprised at how well the springs on the wheels kept it from wobbling.

I looked up ahead and could see the I-155 overpass, meaning we were well out of town.  We decided to turn off the tracks and cross the property between it and the road and ride back into town on the road.  The property we had to cross was a fertilizer storage & distribution company.  There wasn’t a patch of green anywhere on it.  Everything was either crushed stone or white fertilizer.  As we rode into the place there wasn’t a clear path through to the road so we guessed and went down an opening between two buildings.  The space had pallets piled roof high against both walls and it soon narrowed down to one lane wide. 

There was a man standing near the far end of the alley, waving his arms at us and looking very angry.  He said that we couldn’t be here and that he was going to have us arrested.  We weren’t on bikes any longer so we went with him down a set of stairs into the lower part of one of the buildings.  He took us into a cafeteria/break room where several workers were sitting around eating and relaxing.  He went off to look for something and told us to wait there.  Some of the workers came over and wanted to know what was up.  We told them and they said not to worry about him, that he’d be gone a long time and we could just leave.  They asked us if we wanted a beer, but we said no because we were on our way to church.

Later I was sitting at a table talking to Mary Sumpmann, who I knew in Minnesota and hadn’t seen in thirty years or so.  I was curious where life had taken her and hoped to have a good talk.  A young woman came up and sat on the edge of my chair between me and Mary, pushing me over a little.  There were lots of other empty chairs at the table so it was strange that she wouldn’t take one of them.  I sarcastically asked her if she would like to join me in my chair.  She said yes she would.  So I scooted over till we each had half the chair.  She was a large framed person – not fat, just big.  Thinking about it afterwards I thought she was probably Mary’s daughter and wanted to insert herself between her mother and the strange man she was talking to.