Yesterday the high was 78. Today we didn’t hit 58. And the sun was unobscured by clouds for only a few moments all day.
But I did see the season’s first robin:
There were eight of them in the yard, in fact. None of them were on the bird feeder, but they did find some interesting things on the ground.
Fifty-five miles on the bike today. I’d planned to go 40, but much of it was going to be on new roads, which means being lost. Which means extra miles. And that’s how I added so much extra. I missed the baseball game, but listened to it on the ride home. Racing daylight — despite the 55 miles I cut things short because it would be dark and it was turning chilly — I listened to Auburn beat Charleston Southern 13-1. Maybe I should stay away from the park this season. They are 1-3 when I’ve seen them and 6-2 when I am not (or they are on the road).
The nice thing about the ride, aside from the miles, was in tracking down a few historic markers. The first downside was all the backtracking. About 10 or 15 miles were just because of human error. It seems I made a mistake in plotting my map, and so there I was, under a darkening gray sky, no cell signal, up hill both directions and miles and miles to go.
Also I fell. Last week when I tumbled out of my clips I blamed the firefighters. Today I can blame a police officer.
I was at a stop sign, lost. I was trying to figure out which way I wanted to go to make it to my next planned stop. I’d all but flipped a coin and got back on my bike. Look left, right, left and right again. I clip in, look left and realize this car is coming much faster than I’d realized.
I can’t get out of my clips at a dead stop. (I’m not a very good cyclist.)
So I fall over — pow, crash, boom, scrape — onto my hip and forearm.
A truck had pulled up behind me. I lifted my bike off my right leg and unclipped my shoe. I waved to the truck and moved my bike. The oncoming car was a police officer. He saw the whole thing and he stopped. The guy driving the pickup asked if I was OK. I thanked him and sent him on his way. By then the police officer had gotten out of his cruiser and walked over.
“Are you OK sir?”
I’m fine, I said. But while I have you here, I have a question.
And that is one of your less advisable ways to get a police officer’s attention. But I was fine. I scrapped my forearm a bit. It felt like I landed on my hip pretty hard, but it was instantly OK. We chatted for a minute — he was a nice old guy, quick with a laugh. I didn’t realize until the officer left, and I pedaled off in the direction that he pointed, that my wrist was hurting. I guess I landed on that, too.
So I’m icing my wrist.
You know, if that police officer hadn’t been driving by I wouldn’t have fallen over. What civil servant is next?
