Staring At The Sun

I have ridden over the levy (on Piney-Z Lake ) twice since Fay hit. People have told me there is a nine foot gator lurking around. I wondered if I was a bulls eye in some reptilian hunting scope. I'd be an easy meal with water and ground at equal height.

I saw some bird watchers up ahead. A guy dressed head to toe in olive Columbia clothes. He had safari hat and a pair of binoculars. Despite his tragic appearance, his wife was quite fetching. He returned my greeting with the least possible effort. He didn't bother to hide his disdain for cyclists but, his wife smiled. I figured this was good, any self respecting nine footer can make quick work of these two. I was in the clear. The sun was just above the trees and I was going to be cutting it close.

I made my way up Pedrick, over to Avondale, climbing through the Vineyards, across Mayhan, and over to the Greenway.

The sky was on fire and I didn't care if I got caught by the darkness. I rode the long way out, by the old graveyard. There was not a single vaporous, full body apparition to be found, but I was startled by how much the hill hurt. I did scream in horror after riding open mouthed through a cloud of gnats. Other than the sunset, and the gold clouds, there was nothing supernatural out there tonight.

Back on the pavement and the downhill to Capital Circle.

I turned onto Doomar, someone behind me yelled, "Lance!" from a car on Blairestone. I rode past the swamp and back into my hood.

There is a lot of scary stuff out there, none of it got me.

W.B.Z.N.

Amazing Grace

It turns out that if you ride, even when you hate the idea, you feel better afterwards. I am lucky I have some friends that don't judge me for being a moody cuss. Big Worm called yesterday and informed me that we were riding on the road. I know from experience that if I put up resistance, he will just come to my house and prey upon my guilt reflex, so I saved us all a step and showed up. The boys all did their part to get my Wrecking Ball swinging. Ice Berg goated me into a duck sign sprint. Little Ball coached me to the front on the sprints and Worm made a nice pocket of air for me to sit in. Big Jim Slade did his usual "I'm so slow" routine and then crushed me on a few climbs. Everyone brought something to the party.

On the Robot Army front, Juancho and his Munson Patrol Unit have been leaving cryptic messages threatening military action if I am not present on a sugar sand assault soon.

So, I thank you all. It seems as though the chemicals in my brain have stabilized, after all my friends each threw in a hand full of baking soda. Just like Linda Blair after the holy water, I feel as though I am on the mend, (sorry about the pea soup and all that stuff I said about your Mom in H. E. double hockey sticks).

W.B.Z.N.