5 March 2015
This is the dream I had in the wee hours this morning:
I was on an event ride, with a small group. We were in the flatlands somewhere north of Mercer County Park. Two people at a rest stop table told us to go back to the park (no cue sheets, apparently). I knew the way.
I started down a long, winding hill with another rider. To our left were open fields. On the right was another New Jersey landmark: a berm that rose over our heads.
I hit a bump or something. I flew off my bike (in slow motion, of course) and landed on my feet on top of the berm. Kermit was lying on the ground next to me. In two pieces.
Saved by a loathsome berm, my favorite bike destroyed. What does this mean, Dr. Freud?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment