Your shadow doesn’t age as quickly as your reflection, so imagine this Disney movie where the two of them carry on a doomed love affair as the image in the mirror turns old and decrepit while the penumbra on the sidewalk stays youthful and vibrant. Eventually, your gray and wrinkled reflection has to bid a tearful adieu to your forever young shadow, but it’s a lovely moment, not a dry eye in the house, as the ancient image raises a gnarled hand to its still smooth friend, who animates like rippling water as it pedals away, zoetroping on the guardrails of the freeway overpass just like last night on the Lakeview Bridge where the best part about leading the ride is that going uphill slowly means you get to say hello to almost everyone who has come along as they eventually and inexorably pass you on the climb.
A somewhat smaller group of riders than might have been expected on such a lovely summer evening, but that can probably be chalked up to the expectation of much larger numbers for upcoming shenanigans; nonetheless, a couple of dozen or so turned out to be a sufficient data set for testing out Tony’s hypothesis about the phrase “Smoke follows beauty,” which may, indeed, track along the cowboy trail from Texas and New Mexico through to Montana, a conjecture that remains on the table until further disconfirming evidence can be found.
The few who obeyed the maxim never to pass up an opportunity for a swim in the lake were rewarded with water that was almost certainly warmer than the air, no mean feat given that it remained shirt sleeve weather all through the evening, especially around the small, but effective Jenga fire, an apt metaphor, if you think about it, for the ride itself.
In the end, nothing particularly exotic, but the familiar can be plenty delightful when reflection and mirroring connect, the old and the ageless pedaling together.
A somewhat smaller group of riders than might have been expected on such a lovely summer evening, but that can probably be chalked up to the expectation of much larger numbers for upcoming shenanigans; nonetheless, a couple of dozen or so turned out to be a sufficient data set for testing out Tony’s hypothesis about the phrase “Smoke follows beauty,” which may, indeed, track along the cowboy trail from Texas and New Mexico through to Montana, a conjecture that remains on the table until further disconfirming evidence can be found.
The few who obeyed the maxim never to pass up an opportunity for a swim in the lake were rewarded with water that was almost certainly warmer than the air, no mean feat given that it remained shirt sleeve weather all through the evening, especially around the small, but effective Jenga fire, an apt metaphor, if you think about it, for the ride itself.
In the end, nothing particularly exotic, but the familiar can be plenty delightful when reflection and mirroring connect, the old and the ageless pedaling together.
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