The transformative power of a long bike ride?

Dearest blog reader.

I hope that this finds you doing well. My wedursday has been eventful. I am completely disoriented with regards to the day of the week that I am looking at. Today's ride was 65 miles meandering from Linton to Bedford. In the midst of the bucolic scenery, three giant hills stood between me and my destination water tower hill, oh that was too close to the lunch stop hill, and oh now you're just piling on hill. In the end, they were all negotiable.

Speaking of negotiable, I would like to thank the Greene County Commissioners for having lovely, well paved, lineless county roads. A county road without a line down the middle is a rare thing. Somehow, it makes me think that I own the road. I was sharing this with my riding companion t the time and Tony pointed out that attitude could get you ran over on a bike. I couldn't argue with him. There were some impracticalities with my stance. However, you must admit that a lineless road leaves things open to negotiation. Negotiations that are sadly missing in southern Madison County, my neck of the woods. I salute you Greene County.

We started the morning eating breakfast with the children of Linton Elementary; bright and wonderful children. They were a little slow in the sharp wit category. Ashley, a third grader who loves science and math, was very proud of the fact that all of the third graders had laptop computers. I responded "that is amazing. When I was a kid, they had just started letting us all have pencils." Nothing; just a blank stare and then that nervous laugh like she was knew that something hilarious was just said in her presence and she didn't get it. It was a sad moment.

Final ride related story: it is about the transformative power of a week long bicycle ride. I would like to praise the city fathers and mothers of Bloomfield, Indiana for having the good sense to get in the way of all of that Carnegie library money. I was in distress this morning and was able to stop in and read a book. As I was sharing my good fortune with another of my bike riding companions, he asked, "you really stopped to read a book?" "No," I responded, "I was speaking euphemistically. Beverly has encouraged me for years not to talk about my pooping in public. This bike ride had encouraged me towards refinement, and now you have caused me to regress." Anyway, thank you Bloomfield for a quiet place to read a book.

Well there may or may not be ice cream this thurenesday. I am so confused. If the isn't then I raise my spoon in salute to you Amy Baker as I imaginarily eat this rocky road in tribute to 65 miles and three killer hills. If tonight is the night then I will lick the spoon clean of whatever flavor you provide.

Tonight's topic of flannel sheets is provided by Cover Indiana Sponsor  Big Sue. It is well know by those who have had, at times, found enjoyment in this blog, that I am a bit of a fascist regarding keeping your flannel sheets on the bed until Memorial Day. This practice has both a cultural and a scientific basis. First off, why wouldn't you want to keep your flannel on as long as possible. Everyone knows that they are the poor man's 1500 thread count Egyptian sheets. Now admit it when you put those flannels on in the fall and lay down in your true love's embrace you say "ah flannel."

Also, it is a scientifically proven fact that fannal insulates us. It traps precious body heat until the morning when in a collective release by millions of flannel users rising from their slumbers. This massive amount of stored energy release in a single burst is the only thing take keeps us from plunging into another iceage. Slowly, our devotion convinces the sun to pay a more direct attention to us so to speak, at least until the Southern Hemisphere coaxes ole Sol's attention away from us.

In an example of the transformation that I am experiencing on this trip. I say live daringly. Throw off you flannels and bring on the fine cotton.

At least until late, late September.

Take care.

Roger