Concentric

photo by Stephen

I recall at least three “dromes” along the way: the Ghetto, of course, but also two more pint-sized circles at different spots near the top of uphill.

And then, I guess, a fourth, too, because, after all, when you think about it, isn’t the Queen Anne summit a kind of ring, as well?  (Albeit one that only appears as such when you circumnavigate it, a pedaling Magellan of sorts, with the ancillary advantage of not being eviscerated by the natives, a fate that would be truly weird among the dog-walkers and baby-joggers of Seattle’s crown jewel, right?)

It’s always a pleasure to be escorted through a neighborhood by someone who lives there—a native, if you will; that’s when you discover pocket parks you’ve never been in before, vistas you’ve overlooked, and routes you’ve yet to have ridden over—and walked up as the case may be.

Shahan had an idea, starting with ping pong in the futuristic wasteland of SLU and did his best Fancy Fred imitation, leading us on hike-a-bike adventures straight out of the F.F. playbook.  There was some minor grumbling on the superfluous uphills, but after a stint at the home of our fair city’s busiest bartender, including a juggernaut of lovingly prepared tequila shots courtesy of yet another Aries, it was high time to wait no more for raw dog in the butt and a thrilling descent to Interbay through the west side woods via sheer cliffs and multiple roots.

During the course of the evening, both a Frisbee and a cop were rescued from various blackberry brambles, both, as it turned out, requiring at least three helpers to extract the relevant item.  Neither, however, seemed particularly worse for wear after spinning free from what we used to call in Pittsburgh, “jagger bushes.”

Which just goes to show, if you go round in circles enough, you’ll eventually return to where you started, the end, as it were, a beginning all over again.