Solitaire

Cycling is essentially a solitary endeavor, so it’s perfect when, after a while in the saddle, you get to arrive at an outdoor location crawling with several score others who have also pedaled their own two-wheelers to get there.

And it’s made even better (if better than perfect is possible) when there’s more beer than will be drunk, enough wood to eventually shoot flames through the fireplace chimney, and such a long-fading summer sunset that a waxing crescent moon grins on the horizon throughout.

Because plans change and neither my phone nor its operator are smart, I ended up riding farther north along Elliot Bay than necessary, but because this afforded such abiding views of sailboat flocks gliding upon rainbows, I realized that I wasn’t really in a hurry after all.

And when, turning around, the clouds became M.C. Escher geese and giant teddy bear heads, there was no doubt in my mind that what was out there to be observed mattered more than alacrity.

Besides, you’re never behind schedule on a bike; as long as you’re riding, you’ve already arrived.

The long way around Alki to high school hijinks parklands is almost too short when the Olympics cast shadows on the underside of heaven; in spite of missing camaraderie, I sort of liked I had only myself to look out for and could pay less attention to the road before me than the drama above. 

A decided lack of “YOLO” at the beach for this time of year, I thought, but that was more than made up for by those who realized that everything they could possibly want at the moment was spread out right there before them.

Granted, in another week, we’ll have a whole extra minute or two of daytime, but it’s hard to understand why anyone with lighting would pass up a chance to savor every lumen possible.

I understand the impetus to ride, though, solitary perhaps, but never alone with your bike.