Is There Hell In Texas?

You know how it is when you think you know someone well then he or she surprises you? It's somewhat disconcerting, but it does give one pause for a moment. I have generally been the more freewheeling of us while my sweetie has been far more organized and specific about things. Directions? I don't need no stinkin' directions...this is easy! (that's me not her!)
So here we were, in a completely new environment, about to set off on a biking adventure which would take us to the five Spanish missions in and around San Antonio. The bike shop guys were great...though for my money (about $50/day), the directions for the self-guided tour were a bit overdone. I mean, I HAD A MAP! How hard could it be? It was a straight line virtually all the way south (or west, or possibly east). A couple of turns later, we'd be fifteen miles down a bike path, ready to turn about and make the return trip.
Navigating the city streets to our first destination was a piece of cake even though I got some quizzical looks as I led the way. While there are bikeists(our word) in San Antonio, nobody else was out in 45-degree weather. By the time we made the first mission, my fingers were attached (I could only tell by looking at them), and we'd already pulled out windpants and jackets (say what you want about freewheeling, preparation is important, too!)
We headed off to the second mission and proceeded to spend a few minutes "discussing" whether or not the trail turned to the left or went straight. In my mind, we'd get there either way by continuing in a virtual straight line.A cooler head prevailed, and we took her suggestion...she's great with maps on bike trips...here's where the realization hit me that there was something about her I hadn't really thought about.
Fifteen minutes into the second leg, Carol blurts out, "Where in the hell IS the next mission?" It dawned on me that she was far less willing to just guess along the way by following rudimentary map directions and get there eventually: she wanted to know EXACTLY when and where things were.(Starbucks, for example...there wasn't one) I guess I'd never considered it before. Fortunately, the next mission was almost within sight, and I was able to retain the rights to the map as I pointed it out before she saw it. I mean, we had ALL day, it couldn't have been too far away since the round trip was around 25 miles, but she wanted specifics every minute. I can sense a GPS in her future!
Granted, the route wasn't marked well, but it was mostly a really nice bike path with sightings of herons, cormorants and the idyllic wilderness that can be south Texas. It was a great ride along the San Antonio River, even though she almost decapitated herself on a road barrier she didn't see because I was pointing out our next destination. One of the park rangers, since all the missions are national parks, commented that we had taken the correct path on the turnoff and that so few people do. That led to a blue-state mentality comment and kudos for us. When the discussion turned a bit more political, it was time to shove off.
I came away with a greater understanding of this person whom I have known for a long time. Columbus, Joliet, Lewis and/or Clark? Not for her! Swearing in the same sentence with an old Catholic mission convulsed me with laughter, and I think it was miles before I stopped chuckling. Not quite like trying to find the Golden Gate when it is in plain sight, but an eye-opener as well.
The guys at the Charles A. James Bike Shop (San Antonio's Oldest Bike Shop: www.charlesajamesbicycle.com) were certainly glad to see us later in the afternoon. They did not picture us as the season cyclists we are!