I leave to Los Angeles tomorrow for school so my love and I went for a nice long ride this morning. I wanted her to know that I will miss her and promised not to cheat on her with any other bikes. We're going along and it's a beautiful and hot summer morning. About 10 miles into my ride, the trail heads into a park with baseball fields. How nice, I think. Tis the season. The baseball diamonds are crisp and clean and boys are throwing around balls. The mowing crews are just heading out to start before the day becomes too hot. How nice.
A Gator full of lawn crew dudes pulls up on the bike trail in front of me and the dudes start climbing out. "Bike up!" I yell. Nothing. "Excuse me!" I call. Nothing. "Coming through. Ahhh!! Shit! Crap! Watch it!" I screech. Then WAMP. I hit the ground. My shoes are still clipped into the bike, of course, and I'm laying on the ground apologizing. Me apologizing! When the reason I fell was because one of the guys was flinging around his weed whacker and didn't hear or see me coming. I felt like a tool. All three guys rush to pick me up. In honor of it being summer and me thinking about road trips to the lake I was listening to "The Thong Song" Radio on Pandora. I'm sure they could hear "Ignition Remix" by R. Kelly. I am awesome.
My bike and I get along our way and eventually have to go through a trailer park. In Counciltucky--I know you're surprised. We are just bee-bopping along to "Bills, Bills, Bills" by Destiny's Child and out of nowhere a speed bump jumps out at us! Ahhhhh! Panic! Chaos! I almost fly over the handle bars--which wouldn't actually happen because my shoes would have stayed clipped into the pedals so I'm sure my whole bike and I would have cartwheeled through the trailer park, because we are one--but I rip one foot out of the clips and do this stupidly badass skid to a stop. My helmet slightly askew, I look around to see if any Counciltuckians saw my idiocy. Nope. Just a little dog barking at me. Bruised ego nonetheless.
The rest of our ride was uneventful except for the extremely large, extremely sweaty, extremely hairy shirtless grandpa I saw walking at Lake Manawa.
Lies. Actually, even an hour later, riding through the baseball fields again I had to ride past the same lawn crew of idiot boys again. They all waved. Ride of shame.