i like to do a 6 mile route out to this one bench, then i turn around and head 6 miles back. the last time i hit that bench an old man took my pause to mean i was in cardiac arrest. "want some water?" he asked from his stoop his wife watering the bushes with her potpouri urine. "just turning around," i said.
the first two miles of path suck, they are acne pavement that make my teeth vibrate morse code for: well, this cut copy song is lame and my ankles are starting to hurt. a couple of bridges, a road to cross. at mile four things start rocking and you know that if you aren't traveling at least 10 miles per hour, a scary person will catch you and no one will hear your screams when you are raped and mangled with a view of ely's peak and a wild grape tree.
the rest is smooth sailing.
if i run into anyone on the munger, i assume they are perverts mascarading as bikers. so, you're having a nice ride with your teenaged daughter? did you meet her on the internet? am i going to see your face on nightline? even the old couples biking: oh. so you've been married 60 years and you've never seen a sports bra?
whatever. i'm a narcessist.
the way back home was la-la blaher land. listening to shout out louds, enjoying the scenery. it was going to storm, and i was hoping to get back before the last two miles turned into a swampy playground. it's all downhill, pretty much, and i was cranking along until i saw in the very near distance:
a) two young boys walking
b) a giant branch covering the path. like an arm. it perfectly fit the space.
that branch was not there 40 minutes ago on my way out. i layed on my brake. in retrospect i could have jumped the branch. i crawled to the grass and wiped out. grass stain on my palms. i moved the branch off the path and realized: hey, those little fuckers PUT THIS BRANCH ON IN MY WAY!
they were watching me closely and laughed when i fell. i stood up. frowned at the stain. moved the branch. i got the feeling they had feng suied this bullshit. i skated. fast.
one of the boys, 50 yards ahead, took a sharp right into the woods. the other loped along on the path.
dumbass. if you think i can't catch your pre-algebra ass on wheels, you are obviously not making a case for 'no child left behind.'
nothing says guilt like a dead sprint. i screamed such old lady words of wisdom as: you little fuckers! and you think that's funny, you little shits?! i could have broken my $380 arm!
finally the idiot also ditched the path. i wasn't chasing him, per se. i hadn't, like sped up. and if i'd caught him, i would have probably snubbed him. but since he was running, i tried to make it interesting. i flailed my arms to suggest a level of speed i'd never hit.
eventually i got to my car. i took off my skates, drank water, started the car ... and i saw the little ass faces walking along the road. so i did what any creepy adult would do: i followed them. slowly. slower than i was skating, except now i was in my car. 30 solid feet of giving the boys the stinkeye. the idiot gave me a look like 'what?' i gave him a look like 'YOU ARE LUCKY I AM DEXTOROUS AND DIDN'T JUST DIE ON THAT BRANCH YOU PUT ON THE PATH!'
i wanted them to think i was going to follow them home and tell on them. although that probably would have ended with some woman telling me i was out of line and boys will be boys and a man storming off the porch with a rifle. but, anyone going faster would have crashed. slower, they couldn't have handled that branch either.
to my way of thinking these dicks were one adult's bad glare from throwing cement blocks off a bridge over the highway.
at least, that is how i'm justifying my behavior.
they ditched me in an alley and i turned my car around, hoping they hadn't gotten my liscense number.
by then it was pouring. i considered it good karma that i was dry and only mildly stained and knew that someday they would give each other herpes in prison.