Once Upon a Time…

 

 

Once upon a time, last week, I had several errands to run. After mentally mapping my route, I realized I could ride my bike while checking items off my list. And so I set out…

 

For some reason, there were quite a few male senior citizens driving trucks into my path. And I was in a flippin’ bike lane, for cry-eye! When I thought about how those old dudes had probably accumulated more driving experience than most of us, I found their errant ways perplexing. I didn’t flip off anyone or anything, though I may have yelled “Fuck stick!” a few times – ahem. (I’m not perfect – duh.) But those big, bad, old wolves didn’t take me out, nor did they slow me down too much, and I continued on my way. After dropping off a gift for a friend, I went to the grocery store and the pharmacy, then I bought flowers and headed to a new-to-me liquor store.

 

When I arrived, I expected the store to be jammed as the parking lot was full of double-parked cars. But I found the store mostly empty, aside from the clerk and one other shopper. When I asked the proprietor why the parking lot was so whack-a-do, he pointed to the weed store next door. And then the other shopper said it was “Free Joint Friday.” Huh. Go figure. I knew Sazeracs awaited, so I wasn’t tempted. (I also don’t have a weed card, so there.) Necessary items in hand, I headed home.

 

With the exception of the old, swerving coots, my ride was uneventful. And fun. And great exercise. And the day was as lovely as could be. And just as I steered onto my street, I swallowed a bug.

 

The end.

My Just Reward

 

 

Earlier this week I had some errands to run over in another part of town. You know – away from home. So I started mentally planning my trip and realized I could turn it into a bike ride. I mean – I have baskets for cry-eye – why not? So on the appointed day, I kicked the tires and took off.

 

The round trip was only about 15 miles, but that was a nice bit of exercise and I checked something off my to-do list. Right smack dab in the middle of the ride, I started getting hungry. So I began looking around for a little restaurant and a bike rack.

 

I found plenty of places to eat, but bike racks? Not so much. I couldn’t understand that, but hey – this is L.A. We love our cars, people. So I kept riding. I passed place after place, good food after good food, but no bike racks. Finally, I remembered a craft beer joint nearby. I also remembered how the owner is a biker and had bike racks installed out front for his customers. I rode to the bar, secured my wheels, went in and found a spot at the jam-packed counter and placed my order. The ‘tender asked if I wanted to run a tab or close out my order. I looked and him and said, “Dude! I can’t ride drunk! Close that bitch!” He laughed and brought me my check.

 

Now you’d think I was most looking forward to my food – a smoked duck and bacon sausage lunch special. And I was hungry and the food was good. But my just reward for all that biking? A beautiful wild ale.

 

 

I figured that beer would last me through my food and then some, but I started talking with the chick seated beside me and my food took a little longer than expected and before you knew it, I signaled the ‘tender and said, “Dude! Open that bitch! I need another drink!” We all had a good laugh and easy conversation continued. Before long, it was time to go. The ‘tender high-fived me on my way out and the counter chick and I exchanged our good-byes. I walked outside, unlocked my bike and headed home.

 

It was a good day. It really was.