Friday, March 2, 2018

Rolling

Dreams really can come true, as long as you’re willing to propose an itinerary and enlist a gaggle of cyclists to ride them into being.  And if Fancy Fred takes point on the route, you can even augment the original vision with unexpected trails through woods you’ve experienced before but never so horizontally.

Two wheels to four wheels, and both, it turns out, are pretty great, although, oddly enough, balance is harder when you’ve got eight under you than just a pair—especially at first.  But then, you get into the flow of the music and for a few shining moments, you’re all Olivia Newton-John in Xanadu, before, of course, pride literally goeth-ing before the fall—or, at least, a few seconds of hilarious and embarrassing arm-wheeling and leg-kicking to stay upright.

The proposed castle in the sky was to involve an infant, a murder site, and, perhaps, a slight violation of the traditional norm against paid entertainment and it all came to fruition, albeit with a few minor modifications.

No Michael Jackson scene was evinced as we pedaled by the presumably sleeping baby, but the playground where the high school drug deal gone bad took place had a serendipitous zipline to go along with its spectacular view.  Whatever ghost may or may not rest in peace there sure gets to enjoy a panoramic perspective on the vast industrial underbelly of our fair city, and we did, too, made even more marvelous by the all-but-full moon making the visible spectrum visible at its edges in the evening fog.

Unfortunately, the envisioned karaoke on skates wasn’t happening, but it hardly seemed a loss, given that one could still glide down a ramp to a bar where intoxication levels were monitored simply by the ability to order and consume a tallboy without ending up on your bum.

Nevertheless, a coda of singing did occur at the traditional venue; and, to top it off no rain until safely abed; dreamy!

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