|Before the ride|
Since that fateful day, I've intensified my training. My bicycles kept beckoning me, but I've resisted them because I was afraid the tires would pop the moment I got on one of them.
On Sunday, for the first time in six years, I hopped on my BUV (bike utility vehicle). It's a monster equipped with headlights that will blind you, bad-ass Kevlar tires and a frame that can smash right through the thickest bushes. I enjoyed the brief ride so much that I decided to ride it from Nazareth to the courthouse on Monday. My sore ass and throbbing thighs are telling me I should have waited a few months or years, but what the hell do they know? I had a blast and will be doing it again soon, maybe this week.
Believe it or not, I made it to the courthouse. Sure, I had to walk up three mountains, but I made the nine miles in a blistering time of 53 minutes, which is about 60 mph.
Before walking into the courthouse, I stopped at a friend's office to show off and impress his hot secretary. But when I stepped inside, the blast from the air conditioner made me break out in a sweat, and it wasn't long before I was dripping all over both of them.
I plopped down in one of his cumfy chairs to take a load off, and discussed all the world's problems for about thirty seconds before realizing I really needed a drink of water. But when I got up, my buddy's chair was full of sweat that was now pouring out of my ass for some reason.
At least I think it was sweat.
I cleaned up that mess with a bottle of Fabreze. Hey, if it works on cat shit, it should work on me.
After wowing everyone at the office, I strolled across the street to the courthouse, where my bicycle helmet was immediately confiscated. Those things must be dangerous.
I confronted another friend who has been thinking about getting an e-Bike (battery assisted). "Suck it up!" I told him, and then proceeded to brag about how fast I made it in from Nazareth, which is mostly a downhill ride.
As I exercised my jaw muscles, I noticed that I was beginning to get stiff ... not there ... but in all the places where a man does not want to be stiff. My legs felt like rubber. Even my wrists were sore.
And that's what I did. While waiting outside of the Easton Area Community Center, I started sweating (I know, I should say I perspire) again, and one of the ladies inside took pity on me and gave me a bottle of water, which was delightful.
As we discussed flu shots, a courthouse worker who religiously walks to and from the courthouse everyday, saw me on her way home. All three of us talked about flu shots until the bus came.
The bus was packed, mostly with students heading to the Community College. I pretended I was a professor. Most of them have iPods and tuned me out anyway.
When we got there, I popped onto my BUV and made my way onto Rte 191 for the ride to Nazareth. Although it was rush hour, only three people tried to run me off the road. I did get an email from a friend - an avid cyclist - who saw me struggling up the hill near Rte 191 and Newburg Road. "I think I saw you on a bike at about 5:45 tottering out of Newburg and heading towards Nazareth. I was worried about you.........at the pace you were setting and the distance yet to travel, I was not sure you would make it before dark!"
He's obviously jealous.
He denied he was one of the bastards who tried to run me down. "I was going in the opposite direction. I am also a member of the NRA. I certainly would not miss a target that size!" He added that he's been reading my blog. "I do believe there are some folks on there who truly do not like you! I guess they just need to take the time to know you better! LOL"
Yeah, he's funny. He should be on Saturday Night Live. We'll see how much he laughs when he tries to start his car tomorrow.
Despite this guy's obvious attempts to murder me, I made it to Nazareth before nightfall. I even had time to stop at Giant for a few slices of watermelon, my favorite treat. While standing outside and admiring all the ladies who were parading in and out of there, another old fart came over and started talking to me. He's 84, a WWII vet, and must have thought I was in his age bracket.
"Have you had a bypass, too?" he asked.
I kicked the shit out of him and rode off.