Azteca prepack then Peninsula Park for rose garden vapors. Roll out to the burlington bluff haunted film school. Puff beneath the serpentine oaks. Brief leisure stop. Lionel Richie. That’s the guy. Winner winner chicken spready dinner. Ride back through the neighborhoods to Vendetta’s heatlamps and vapor curtain. Gome alone by schmone.
Category: Leisure
Never too early falling to almost too late. Crickets in the chatter and summer absences requiring defibrillators to kickstart little Friday once again. Vic opts in, seeing the opportunity to prep his recovering leg wrist for cylcle O. Gato is in it for the sunshine mileage and bluff puff. Zulu joins to add a stranger face to the strange three. Mash Tun new bar with $2 house beers, garden patio, and nubile bicycle legs. Map says 7 miles from there to the bluffs, so a precycle puff is in order. Sunglasses and sunset and the glorious overlook. Oh yeah, ride night. Defines summer nights. Defines the TFC. A useful reminder of experience, mileage, and exploration. Turn right after the Portway, past the Polk St. Militia vehicle and roll quietly up to the Burlington Bluffs. Fellow fathers, we have found our spot. Three tall boys and puffs on the porch. Boatway tugs, wrong way sunset, and serpentine tree branches. Cheap date with a grand view. From there, it is a simple jaunt to Leisure. Trivia winding down, and cutthroat bocce ending Zulu 10, Gato 8, Vic 2. Clock beckons gome. All downhill from here. Overlook, Skidmore, Wilshire Park and goodbye Zulu. Vic and Gato take the bitchslap thru Hollywood TC south up several unecessary bike route hills. Ankeny sends Vic west and I am left to the quiet sound of bike tires on empty streets over the remaining 4 miles. Gome by schmidnight-thirty. Simply amazing night.
Fog thick as a DubPak through Holman soup. Gato solopak with enough water on my eyelashes to quench Saharan Africa. Humpback, Dear Lizza. Kittens, Dear Henry. Phiets l’orange trades bucket for handlebar bag. Soft Serve = DQSS = Disqualified. You guys might want to go on ahead. This fog is thick. I think the Hutch is up here on the left. Look at that. Love to, but the fog is in the way. Menlo is fresh and full of life. Square Arch Trvia. I was gonna cut designs in my hair before the ride. Fort George and a winter’s ale. Click clack patio heaters. Bronze Bezzo arrives in his carbon love matcheen, man. BTU = Bachman Turner Overshare. Two weeks in Mexico. $200 for next game. Slow ride through the thick Irving Park lampglow, abandoned mall parking stacks, murky SE. Gome by schmidnight o eight.