A misty flight on knobby wings

I have no clue what got into The Goat this afternoon. She seems stronger. Different.


Overcast skies ruled the later part of the day. A mild breeze from the southeast meant a bit of a tailwind from the A bus, which I took to get home. Something was different. The tailwind wasn't THAT strong, but The Goat was running really, really well and wasn't asking much from me in order to give me a very spirited jaunt back to home base.

After my wife lay down for her pre-work nap, it was even more pronounced. I had to make a few grocery runs. Two trips. Two different markets. You've gotta love it.

As I hauled The Goat down the long flight of stairs from our second-story apartment, there was a glistening coat of moisture visible on the ground. The air was misty, with a foggy aura. The sun, about half an hour from sunset, was nowhere to be seen, but you could tell it was setting by the nebulous gradient of the atmosphere above. Engaging only my LEDs, I set out for the closer of the two markets.

Given the low visibility, I opted for the sidewalk along 87th street, knowing full well that my already assiduous awareness senses would have to be intensified even more on the sidewalk. This tactic worked very much in my favor this evening, as there aren't many intersections along this particular stretch.

I mashed. She went. I hammered. She went faster and begged me for the hammer ring. Not being one to deny a bike the object of her carnal desires, I pressed my left thumb, still hammering away at the cranks. As if receiving a burst of nitrous (two bottles, the BIG ones!), she darted forward. Twenty Two. Twenty Five. Twenty Seven miles per hour... Intersection ahead is all clear... I was flying through the misty evening air on The Goat's knobby wings which oddly were rolling smooth but still whining on the concrete. I'd be lying if I said it was anything less than surreal.

I hit the abrupt ramp up the other side of the intersection at speed, catching just a little bit of air, then took up the cranks again: Twenty Five. Twenty Seven. Thirty miles per hour and running dead even with traffic. Approaching another intersection -- controlled by traffic lights, I scrubbed a lot of speed and brought it down to a more reasonable 10 MPH as I crossed.


This process continued both directions multiple times. With the wind, and against it for nearly 9 miles this evening total. I'm still uncertain what caused this phenomenon, until I saw a strange figure in one of my photographs which seemed to be casting some kind of power-spell upon The Goat:


Naw, just kidding. That's my hand. This, however, is one ugly, mysterious monster:


Random Tunage:
Fluke - Dirty Little Mouth
Prodigy - Smack My Bitch Up