Sunday, March 13, 2011

Night Ride - Mercer Island Loop

Just like Washington's Isiah Thomas, penetrating against the Arizona Wildcats defense to win the last Pac-10 tourney in history with a buzzer-beating, overtime shot, Jeremiah and I penetrated the impenetrable fortress of Mercer Island last night, that rock of privilege that has remained cut off from outsiders like a remote mountain kingdom.

In all, the trip to the island was tougher than the actual route. I also expected more attention from the Mercer Island fuzz. In all, the roads were smooth and well maintained, prominent road signs admonished drivers to be patient with pot-addled cyclists.

On our way back we got a call from Todd, who said he just ate some psychedelic mushrooms and needed to get out of the house and ride his bike.

We had intended on returning home at a reasonable hour,  but that never happens. Todd met us at the ferry terminal, where we proceeded to roam through the south end, to his Georgetown artist colony to pick up his helmet which he forgot in his hallucinogenic haze and rush to get out of the house and onto the road. Then we pushed farther south, along the margins of Boeing Field, on to Randy's, that 24-hour crypto fascist haunt popular with Boeing workers and pilots.

We dropped Todd off just as it started to rain, and by the time we had made it back to the waterfront it was raining in earnest. It wasn't as cold or as rainy as I had seen it, but it was still a fucking cold and rainy night.

Dropped off Jeremiah in Magnolia and then pedaled my fat ass back to the U District. I considered pushing the bike up the Ave., but then remembered something Phil Collins said in "In the air tonight."

"I can feel it in the air tonight, Oh Lord, Oh Lord
And I've been waiting for this moment all my life, Oh Lord, Oh Lord"

... and that made all the difference.

53 miles.

Add that to friday night's ride, and this wekend I pedaled about 85 miles.

And to think, my 8th grade shop teacher thought I wouldn't amount to anything.

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