Succour

 

It’s not unprecedented for pizza to be delivered to a bike ride.  

The various permutations of Joetown, for instance, have typically included the arrival of boxes of America’s favorite Italian import and I seem to recall tehJobie’s largesse resulting in the consumption of baked slabs of wheat with cheese and tomato toppings out in the woods somewhere, although maybe I’m mixing that up with the time Chinese food appeared as if by magic in Frink Park.

However.

I’m pretty sure that never before have the slices been handed out by a man in full business casual with a sweet sportcoat to boot, and I’m absolutely certain that this is the first time the delivery included a perfectly serendipitous portion of cruelty-free ‘za as if ordered up specially to carry by e-Dadbike to the home of a vegan comrade still recovering from that testosterone-fueled crash of last summer.

It’s nice when the Universe takes care of you this way, so you can so easily extend a bit of succour to a friend; all too often, as they say, “shit flows downhill;” so it’s quite delightful when, by contrast, it’s reasonably tasty victuals that roll from the higher-up spots to the lower-down ones, and to the extent that such sustenance might contribute to the aforementioned friend’s full recovery, so much the better.

Good deeds done, one earns the right (apparently), to misbehave a little bit, out-hoboing the hoboes in their own backyard with guerilla flames and public intoxicating.  

And if once is just too much, then twice is doubly justifiable, in another spot that lends itself to precisely this sort of appreciation for the natural world and our old buddy Prometheus, who, legend has it, made it all possible in the first place.

Bless his eyes.

Surely, human beings’ main purpose on the planet is to care for each other, (and, by extension, the natural world), when, in doing so, one also cares for oneself, that’s outta this world.