The North Atlantic Ocean

Last night was not a comfy night for me. For whatever reason my left knee and leg decided to cavort unremittingly into the middle of the night in spite of my constant twists and turns in an effort to overpower the jig. It was only the application of my Theragun (and the consumption of Tylenol) which at last subdued the activity and allowed me to sleep. It was late this morning before I abruptly awoke from what I recall was an uncommonly deep slumber and grabbed my iPhone on the bedside table to see what time of day it was. Already it was about 9:30 am, dangerously close to being within that zone of the first half of the day that vanishes all too swiftly. I immediately cornered and smothered myself in the shower, shaving cream and white bath towel. No time to waste! And breakfast would have to wait.  Just enough time perhaps to re-engineer the maniacal routine of a preliminary car wash! And hopefully thereafter to recover the preferred parking space into which I have lately devoted so much attention to employ and perceive the automatic camera alignments.

My gusto to regain the constitutional dynamism of habit was so activated by my hitherto ungoverned somnolence that I decided at last to address the pestering issue of tire pressure.  A red line was now showing on the Lincoln Way App Tire Pressure Monitor. The complaint was no longer merely one of ambient temperature. On the way back from the car wash (where I had already alerted myself to the benefit of atonement by vacuuming the front and back mats on the driver and passenger sides) I took a left turn before the Sea Pines entrance and parked in the new gas station (by Harris Teeter) which offers a free tire inflation hose.  We’ve already used it at least twice for the bicycles but I have never descended to the labour of doing so for the car since I find devices like that unmanageable and as often as not the author of misfortune not accomplishment. But I wasn’t yet committed to calling O.C. Welch Ford Lincoln in nearby Hardeeville to enquire about getting the matter attended to. So I thought I’d give it a try.

Not surprisingly my initial attempt at being a mechanic failed.  I had driven the car into the space next to the device but then discovered that the tire which required the remedial attention was opposite the machine and I could see in an instant that the air hose would never extend that far.  So I backed out, then backed in and began the sustained pain of putting air into the tire. I had no idea how to assess the workability of the device.  It made a noise.  There was no particular sound of escaping air nor even of air penetrating the tire.  Finally the machine made some repeated thuds.  I quit the application, returned to the car, started the engine and examined the monitor.  The pressure had improved by one from 30 to 31 psi. I performed the ceremony once again but this time elevated the machine’s limitation from 35 to about 55. This helped. It wasn’t perfect but I decided to let well enough alone. The monitor now discloses a close similarity of 40 psi on all four tires. That will have to do.

Putting this erstwhile lingering annoyance behind me – and having yesterday or the day before settled my curiosity regarding the management of nose pads on my new spectacles – I was fully animated to greet the new day yet unexpired beyond noon.  Upon my return to the apartment my appetite was thus restored and I was already formulating my subsequent bicycle ride to complete the advantage of the day. This meant examining the wind (which today was peculiarly almost directly from the south) and the tide chart (which indicated low tide at 4:22 PM). Both factors bode well for a trip along the beach from Tower Beach to Sea Pines Beach Club.

As I cycled along North Sea Pines Drive towards Tower Beach my heart beat with excitement for the impending view of the sea. The sea air sweeping from the south across the North Atlantic Ocean through the towering sea pines was stimulating. And again I was reminded of the unparalleled beauty of the parkland throughout Hilton Head Island.

The wind (what there was of it) was likely at my back and otherwise of no consequence. My only regret was that the setting sun was at my back as I headed to Sea Pines Beach Club.  But the compromise afforded me the opportunity to see with clear vision the marvel of the sea as I did so.

With what seemed unprecedented velocity I arrived at Sea Pines Beach Club.  My taxing descent from the bicycle and Herculean push of it along the sand up the boardwalk tended to diminish the buzz of the ride along the beach but I had at least accomplished my day’s project. For the remainder, I traveled along Lighthouse Road skirting the golf club to Harbour Town.