Season's Best

Best bike ride since I've been back, possibly. Sheila pumped my tires up (couldn't find the apt. pump), and the ride home was pure glory. I was like a midnight speed-racer, whipping between the lanes, unseen by all but the scrawny black cats which scrambled out of my way (I wasn't phased). The wind was whipping all around, trying to blow me over, but I could've cared less. I was the embodiment of the storm's eye. I guess my powder blue baby isn't so bad after all.