THE RITZ RIDE

Every year, I do this ride.

Last summer, I did it twice.

I don’t know what day it will be.

I don’t know what ride it will be.

I cannot plan it.

But I do know it will happen.

It kind of comes out of nowhere.

I do not feel it when I leave.

I feel it when it is time to turn around and head home.

I do not turn around.

I keep going.

I keep going in any new direction.

From this point on, it is all ‘fresh.’

At around seven o’clock, I begin to look for the next town.

When I get to the town, I find a place to stay.

Nothing fancy.

I do not need that.

Preferably a Motel.

A Motel I can ride my bike to my door.

I get my key and leave my bike in my room.

I head to ‘The Depanneur,’ get a six-pack, a bag of plain Ruffles, and head back to my room.

I shower and wash my clothes.

I don’t wear ‘the kit.’

To be honest, I wear golf fashion.

(Post to come on that one, totally untapped.)

While they are drying, I have my beer and chips.

Then I head out ‘on the town.’

The ride home?

Part II?

Haha, I will leave that for a later post.

‘The Ritz Ride’

Insert butler emoji here.

‘There is another way to ride.’

THERE IS ANOTHER WAY TO RIDE

No matter what you do, there are rules, formalities, etiquette, and customs. They are there to show you ‘how things are done.’ But ‘how things are done’ can change and should change. No sport in...

It is that time of year again. I am still riding the routes I have been riding all summer. Still riding as long. Still riding as far. Dressing warmer. Keeping an eye on the fast-changing...

The name I have for a particular ride. The ride where the time riding is shorter than the time cleaning up. Mathematically, it would look like this. TIME RIDING < TIME CLEANING = THE DISPROPORTIONATE...