I know what you're thinking, 'cause I'm thinking it too. This posting stuff is getting out of hand, but I've got the itch lately. Don't get used to it though, because I'm leaving on Tuesday for an extended fishing trip in the Canadian wilderness where no technology can reach. (Now wiping up the drool that has escaped my mouth at the thought of all those walleyes filling up my belly.)

Anyway, I was out for my noon time ride yesterday which included a couple of 25 minute moderate climbing pieces up the mountain. They went well and the weather was glorious. So, I was riding back to the rock pile and feeling pretty good with the afterglow of the effort still fresh within my legs. As I approached a light, one of those hipped up fixies went zooming by me in spectacular fashion. As I admired his Schwinn Madison model, a big truck roared up along side of me to do one of those cut off rights that we are all so fond of. I slowed to let him do his thing. At the exact same time, he slowed to let me get to the light and then he could get in the right turn lane. I quickly accelerated to get out of his way and he let fly with the horn, reved engine, and flying profanity. What a joy. As he turned, I looked in his direction, but held my breath. Didn't stop him from calling me the typical names we all get. I reached the light as my adrenaline started to settle and noticed the fixie there waiting for the light to change. He had some choice words for the driver as the monster truck sped off and instantly, I had gained and lost a friend. We chatted about how sometimes it's like we are dodging dragons out there and why it is that they can't see us as human beings, fathers or daughters or parents or husbands or wives or friends. Forever the impediment to somebodies progress to someplace more important than my skin and bones. But the fixie guy was cool and we talked a little about track racing and the like. My boiling blood settled and I got back to my warm afterglow. I'll call it even on the ledger.

Johnny GoFast