Rougher than a Cob

On Saturday I went for a ride here in Southern Indiana. The weather was quite good. In fact, it was the first good weather day of 2010. Sunny and 48-52 F during my time on the road.



I rolled an out-and-back from Newburgh up to Boonville (the Warrick County Courthouse, at the center of Boonville, is pictured above) and then on to Folsomville, through Gentryville to the Lincoln boyhood memorial.


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I was definitely out of place to the people by the roadside. I doubt many of them see cyclists often, since this really was out in the sticks. But the roads were good (aside from a 1 mile section of gravel) and the hills were plentiful.



After checking out Lincoln State Park ever so briefly, I stopped at the gas station in Gentryville to top off my bottles and ask directions for a non-gravel route. The old boy at the counter couldn't suggest another way except the 2 lane 50-60mph highways. I told him the way I had come up, past the Colonel Jones home, but that I didn't appreciate the large rock gravel sections, nor the loose dirt climbs (think 'cross sand pit climbs). He agreed, stating: "Yeah, that road past the Jones house turns rougher than a cob."

Now that phrase was new to me. I didn't let on to the shop keep, just nodded in agreement and thanked him for the figs I had purchased. After getting back to my in-laws, my father-in-law informed me of the meaning. Without being too coarse... in rural areas, perhaps even still, corn cobs were stacked in outhouses as a hygiene tool - post bowel movement. This of course should be a phrase taken up by cyclists given the unique care requirements of such sensitive parts given long bouts next to chamois. Anyway, I can tell you, if you take Lincoln trail road from Folsomville to Gentryville, it is rougher than a cob.