A few miles later, on Merrick Road, we got to some good stuff. It was now truly raining.
Pete, Tom, and John waited under a tree half a mile away while Jim and I took pictures.
Pete was eating one of these when I sat down:
"What is that called?" I asked,
"A Circle of Death," he said, and when he finished it, started in on another, because everyone knows that a cyclist needs two circles to keep moving. Jim was eating fried bread. Whatever Tom had looked more reasonable. I ate the top off of a pumpkin muffin. It was good.
How Jim and Pete didn't barf on the way home is a testament to their metabolisms and proof that a B pace really is too easy for them.
We were about five miles away from Etra Park when the sky began to clear to our north. To the south, the clouds rolled out, and when we got to the park, I took pictures.