 |
| last pink church stop |
I heard the noise, then looked back in the
rearview mirror. Bouncing along I-20 was my road bike. I pulled over and got
out of my car. Walking opposite the traffic, I got closer to my injured bike,
lying in the right hand lane. An 18-wheeler delivered the final blow with a
sound of carbon and metal that no bike lover wants to hear. I stood there for a
moment. Knowing it was gone I picked up the machine from its point of fate. I
thought about the countless hours and miles we had together. We bonded, not only
through rain, snow, and heat but also some of the most beautiful weather one
can imagine. We had a great last two days in Athens, enjoying some of the roads
we first became acquainted on. Maybe it was fitting to have the last ride be
Brockton Loop. Maybe it was fate that it happened on the way to Augusta, a
place where we will spend little time together. Now, I pour out a sip of good
ole IPA to you and remember our good times.
 |
| ouch |
 |
| ouch |
