Why Go: Diminutive Delaware may not have the kind of dramatic topography that characterizes most great cycling regions, but it does occupy some of the nation’s best oceanfront real estate. This ride takes in 38 beginner-friendly miles along its most famous Atlantic strands, from Rehoboth Beach (not coincidentally, home to Dogfish Head Brewery) down to Fenwick Island and back.

Why Go: Perched on the southern edge of the Colorado Plateau, just beneath the San Francisco Peaks at 6,910 feet, Flagstaff is a mild-weathered, Ponderosa pine-studded outdoor wonderland. Immediately south of the city, though, you can roll down the Mogollon Rim — a 2,500-foot escarpment marking the edge of the plateau — via Oak Creek Canyon to Sedona’s otherworldly red rock desertscapes.

Why Go: Not every ride in the Centennial State features lung-searing alpine climbs. On the Rockies’ Western Slope, where the Colorado River emerges from the Book Cliffs near Grand Junction, the little farming town of Palisade is a relative flatland of peach orchards, lavender gardens and, recently, an up-and-coming wine industry.

Why Go: With its profusion of singletrack radiating from town into the Gros Ventre Range, Jackson is better known for its mountain biking than its roadie culture. But the 48-mile-long valley of Jackson Hole, framed as it is by the saw-toothed Teton Range and the Gros Ventres, is a wonderfully dramatic setting for a road tour.

Why Go: Though it’s only recently become recognized as a cycling paradise, Minneapolis’ best bike route — the over-50-mile Grand Rounds Loop, which traces natural features including lakes, creeks, riverbanks and wetlands in a massive circle around downtown — has been around since the 1930s.

Why Go: With its rolling karst topography, award-winning vineyards and dazzling springtime wildflower blooms, Texas Hill Country features some of the state’s best rural cycling. These hills, while not Swiss Alps caliber, were one of Lance Armstrong’s primary training grounds.

Why Go: The ruggedly beautiful topography of South Dakota’s Black Hills presented highway engineers with some unique challenges. They responded by constructing two “impossible” roads — the Needles Highway (Rte. 87) and Iron Mountain Road (Rte. 16A) — that thread their way through the mountains using steep grades, one-lane rock-walled tunnels, hairpin curves and photogenic spiral “pigtail” bridges.