That sounds suitably heavy, doesn't it? Let's hope the post stands up to it, or we're going to have one heck of an icing-covered pancake. *grin*
This morning was one of Those mornings. The sort of morning where, upon setting wheel upon road, you get the feeling that you could happily ride for the rest of your life, just not stop until you run out of ground. The weather was just right--it's still in the low 70's at night, thanks to the surprising rainfall we've been getting, and this being Louisiana there was still shrouds and strips of fog rising from the ground, so it was ghostly and cool. I never got out of fourth gear, I was so unready to rush to anywhere. I had an hour to travel four miles, and while the temptation was strong to take the long way to work, say, via Little Rock, I took the straight and narrow.
It was one of those rides where everything seems to be just right. No traffic, perfect cool touches in the air, no rush to be anywhere, to do anything. I could have powered along at a bracing forty miles an hour to anywhere this morning, and been perfectly happy just to be riding. And I was. It reminds me of the days I used to ride to Baton Rouge to visit a friend there--I'd always take the back roads, the ones that twined and twisted through little towns so small you'd think they were put there solely for the purpose of selling boiled peanuts, questionable antiques out of run-down houses, and handmade dolls. The kind of road that roams in and out of swamps and soybean fields, the kind of road that invites you to drive forty miles an hour because there won't be anybody behind you for days.
It's going to be a good day.