Abe wants me to create more
metadata
in my posts, so here goes.
Saturday
I really needed to ride, but I'd stayed up kind of late
Friday
night, so I didn't wake up early enough to join any morning group rides. When I woke up it was wet outside but the forecast said it wasn't supposed to rain any more. I was a little bored of my normal route around
White Rock Lake
so I made arrangements to meet my friend in
Oak Cliff
for coffee.
As soon as I left the house I could tell it was treacherous. It had rained just enough to activate all the oil on the roads but not enough to wash them clean.
Oil blooms
covered the streets. It was still raining just enough to get me wet, and it was cold. I made it to my friend's house safely, averaging just a little over 12 mph, which is well below even my normal easy pace.
We went to a coffee shop that was packed with maskless customers despite the pandemic raging around us. We sat outside. I had a delicious
cortado
with
almond milk
and a
falafel
salad dish that was delicious. A passing man who had just moved to
Dallas
from
London
took photos of my
bicycle
, which if I do say so myself is photo-worthy, even when covered in road grime on a wet day. We struck up a conversation but for some reason I failed to offer him my phone number before we parted ways. I'm a bad city representative.
We then proceeded along a route I have ridden many times before. The roads continued to be hazardous but we were careful. Then, rounding a bend on a fast section of road, a car passed us, then lost traction and spun out across the road and halfway back again. We had plenty of time to slow and stop, hurriedly getting ourselves and our bikes off the side of the road as the car headed back across the street, finally coming to a stop in the middle of said street. It was all sudden and confusing--why didn't he stop sooner, it was like he hit the gas after he'd already come to a stop against the curb on the opposite side of the street--our only conclusion was he panicked and hit the accelerator pedal by mistake.
While we stood on the side of the road, no less than three more cars lost traction in the turn. None of them completely lost control, thankfully. But I was ready to get out of there! We carefully but quickly exited the scene and rode downtown, where we parted ways to each go home. On the solo ride home from downtown, a dense
fog
rolled in, lowering visibility to just a dozen yards. It was an ominous end to a bizarre ride.
> As soon as I left the house I could tell it was treacherous. It had rained just enough to activate all the oil on the roads but not enough to wash them clean.
Oil blooms
covered the streets. It was still raining just enough to get me wet, and it was cold. I made it to my friend's house safely, averaging just a little over 12 mph, which is well below even my normal easy pace.
This reads like a great intro to a short story