We missed Naomi who's recovering from the Boston Marathon and M who went to road racing camp. Suckers. They missed not only a great ride, but the Batmobile at a Turnpike rest stop. Check out this lunacy:
I don't know my way around French Creek, so I dutifully followed Frankie who seemed to know what she was doing. I almost puked going up the ghastly climb to the water tower. I'd like to attribute the nausea to the sudden temperature change, but alas I fear it's simply me being a lousy climber. I activiated the self-timer, propped the camera on Frankie's saddle, and wound up with this shot:
Not bad, eh? I love the self-timer. Treasa looks so serious. Relax, T, we're on a bike ride!On the way home, I felt compelled to stop at the ice cream drive thru on Ridge. After 5 minutes of blowing a hole in the ozone, I figured that someone must have died in the car at the head of the line. I parked and stood in line to avoid further emission damage.
No one had died, but they must have ordered 50 ice cream sundaes or some such nonsense which was the cause of the time suck. Is this some sort of cosmic message to me that I would be better off avoiding ice cream?
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