dry and wet

There’s something about biking in the rain. Feeling the power of the elements; wind-driven rain, clatter of hail on the helmet, surface water tugging the wheels, but persisting through to the destination. In the case of lightning, the wiser choice is to seek shelter. Huddle under a bridge or in a 7-11. The electric potential of lightning can run to the millions of volts.
My companion and I, lost in ecstasy and spurred on by dog-urgency, rode on. Arriving home, we are glad to be alive.


I was watching her rear wheel. The sensation was not so much of falling as of the ground coming up to meet me. Or hitting a wall. I hurtled forward propelled into a wall of soft grass.
Proprioception depends on having a horizon. For that moment, the wheel, the sidewalk, the lawn, became my horizon. And like an errant gyroscope, my brain miscalculated the whole equation. I was a toddler without my training wheels.
Now I’m a center fielder with a grass stain on my pants from a diving catch. Brush myself off, survey the field, and get in position for the next play.


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