Sunday, June 13, 2010

Pigeons Down on Market Square

June 12, 2010. Weimar, Germany.
It's a dark morning. The heavy clouds roll overhead toward the east as black birds take roost on lonely telephone lines. A soft, soft rain starts coming down, causing tiny ripples in the puddles on the side of the road. A set of bicycle tires flies across the surface. Two walls of water soar out in opposite directions. The bicycle is gone before the walls collapse.

Down the road, the bicyclist is pedaling as hard as possible. He flies heroically over twigs and leaves, his wake disturbing their relatively peaceful morning. With an upward push, he jumps over a small drainage ditch and lands with a small skid on the other side. He crests a hill and begins down the other side. The loose rocks and gravel make for a dangerous descent. A quick downshift and a tap of the rear brakes throws the back tire out beside him. He skids around a turn. He leaves a cloud of dust behind him as he speeds off into the wilderness.

The identity of this dashing, extremely attractive dude?
What a man. What a bicyclist. He's my hero.

Okay, so I wasn't alone for the ride. And it probably wasn't nearly as heroic as I made it out to be. But it certainly was a lot of fun. We rode about fifteen miles out to some lake in the middle of nowhere. The plan was to go swimming, but the it turned out the lake was far too dirty for anything (other than nightmares) to exist in it. So we rode back, but I stopped by a music store on the way. The plan for tomorrow is to get a harmonica and hit the streets with a guy named Bobby and his guitar. Tomorrow is when we start earning millions.

Anna Myer needs to use the sparse internet. I'm handing over the ethernet cable. More later.

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