Published February 11. 2021 2:07PM
John Steward, Special to The Times
In my tenacious quest to defy the onslaught of age, I often bicycle throughout southeastern Connecticut. Sometimes I head to Connecticut College for a therapeutic rendezvous with youth.
However, in order to reach such enlightenment, I must travel the spookily named Gallows Lane off Bloomingdale Road in Waterford. Gallows Lane has an aura, due either to its name, its ghostly emptiness, or my imagination. The clicking of my bicycle’s drive train, normally dim, suddenly seems intrusively loud in the strange stillness.
I’ve pedaled it many times, sensing the eery chill of a dark past, fighting the urge to change gears and flee. I unavoidably consider the origin of its name every time.