It was a comfy 60 degrees for my ride to work this morning. A steady tailwind pushed me along. I feeling my tailwind oats, that incredibly gullible sense that today I am stronger than Lance. Until I realize the planes are taking off in the direction I am coming from and the flags are pointing my way. A genuine tailwind sucker was I.
The ride home was into the teeth of the same wind, but I didn’t mind. The digital thermometer on my bike computer read “80” for most of the way. It’s not even Saint Patrick’s Day yet! The trees are suckers for this and are blooming at least two weeks early. I don’t mind at all.
The ride home was nearly ruined by a Lancelot who passed me without warning as I passed a walker along a narrow stretch of the Mount Vernon Trail. I felt a tick on my left hand. The passing asshat actually made contact. No “Sorry”. No “My bad”. He was in a big hurry to get home and admire his engorged quads in the mirror. Someday he’ll be admiring the CT scan they do after he goes ass over pea brain into a tree along the trail.