Ground up

The call came far too early yesterday morning. After a late night watching Son Volt fans push their bangs out of their eyes and nod into their beers I could have slept until Tiger’s tee time at 2:22.

I answered the phone to an excited Hambone,

“What’s up? Where are we meeting? Are you ready? Are you the ringleader?”

No sir I am not the ringleader. I am a clown, so just let me crawl into the backseat of my tiny car and go back to sleep.

Instead I lurched into the man-o-tard and eventually (after a cup of coffee and three deep sighs) the streets of Tallahassee. The air was crisp as a Bartlett pear and before I knew it I was glad to be out and about.

Once we hit the park, playtime was over and the boys were pinning the rivet, or tossing the trivet, or something like that. They were going fast. It took my entire catalogue of shortcuts to make it to the end in view of the group.

Hence the delicious burger, because I’m cooked.


4 Responses to Ground up

  1. I rode all of Twilight Zone and most of Munson before peacing out at Railroad Square. The trail was fast and hard but fairly deserted — just a few Sunday drivers and joggers — but the newly sprouted ferns were good company. I understand: who’d want to ride the scorched sandhills when the eastside hardwoods beckon?

  2. A poem:
    King and Kong
    Must be getting really strong
    As the Writer of Blogs
    Becomes the Rider of Logs.

    (I didn’t say it was a good poem. You may be ground meat but I am fried brain.)