It was billed as a shakedown ride for one’s bike in preparation for upcoming bicycle camping adventures, but it also functioned as a warm-up for one’s liver and brain cells, a kind of “amuse bouche” to get the juices of one’s constitution flowing for the main course of shenanigans to follow over the weekend.
But it really did feel like old times.
There was plenty of arguing at the start-up about where the ride ought to go and ultimately, it was—not decided, but rather, mandated—in the time-honored manner, to wit: whoever yells the loudest and insists the hardest. And the initial route allowed us all to treat our internal miscreants to just the right amount of transgressing to get the evening started and to experience our own versions of adjacent, against, and upon in the windswept sculpture garden.
Who knew, then, that “kid’s karaoke” was a thing, and while it was pointed out to me that childhood is basically full-time intoxication, it’s still hard to see how or why anyone would get up to belt out an inferior version of a beloved pop song without the aid of alcohol, but there you have it.
And anyway, it ensured that the bar stop was a short one and that there would be time to school teenagers in the art of tallbike riding sooner rather than later.
Celebrating the World Cup with a spin across some soccer fields was a new one for me and homemade software ensured that no one was left behind for good.
Times and technology may change, but that old fire keeps on burning.