|Balloons over a Marion cul-de-sac. It was that kind of evening.|
We had a cool bike ride early Sunday evening—cool in the sense of “nice,” but, in the end, “cool” in the sense of “feels like September, eh?”
We had quite a day on Sunday—we celebrated a daughter’s birthday and hosted a party that included two families of grandchildren. The family gathering lasted until late in the afternoon, when we (my wife, son and I) decided that we could doctor up a pizza and watch a movie for supper, but first maybe go for a walk. I don’t recall if it was my son or my wife, although I think it was the wife, but someone said, “Well, how about a bike ride, instead?”
Well, why not? We three bikers headed north on Devonshire, aiming for the north end of the Boyson Road Trail. We took the connecting trail out to Menards and turned down a cul-de-sac to turn around. Then my wife’s phone, which I was carrying, rang. It was our son from Paraguay calling, so my wife stopped to chat for a few minutes.
|Balloon passes overhead.|
He was riding his older brother’s swanky road bike. If he were on the same type of bike as I, he would have been faster anyway, but the road bike just exaggerated things. He topped 20 mph while adding 3 miles to his ride circling in a small area. I reached, at most, 16 mph. That’s OK with me, I consider 16 mph pretty darn fast, especially in a tight circle.
The night was partly cloudy and cool. The light was starting to fail, but the sky still beautiful. Then, just to make it all even more magical, two hot air balloons passed directly overhead. On the way home, I ran with the lights on, and think I should get my wife some lights.
All that—a cool bike ride, and I got to chat with my oldest son who lives in Paraguay. A short evening bike ride can’t get a whole lot better. Oh, wait, it can. Then pizza washed down with Fat Tire while watching "The Man Who Knew Too Little." Sunday was a good night.
|A closer view of son in orbit.|