The Hot-house Flower

Our friend Todd is gone. The last thing he did before pulling out of the driveway was wash the bike he borrowed for the week- because that guy is a class act.

Unfortunately, class is not enough to exclude him from being the target of unfair ridicule here at the BRC. You think you are living high on the hog down here until you have a visitor from the West Coast, and then you realize what a bunch of country rubes we really are. He put on a brave face and drank the tap water without too much trouble, but I watched him blanch at the Miller High Life Tall Boy cans in the trash.

I assured him it was an oversight and placed them in the recycling bin- or as I like to think of it- the bin that takes cans and bottles to the secret dump where the recyclables go.

All organic fruits and vegetables aside, a better friend could not have dropped in on me right now. The moment I got the e-mail that announced his visit three months ago I went on high alert. I booked passage on the wagon. I knew he would not be rolling into town talking “Remember When” about bike rides and eating cheeseburgers. He would be expecting miles and lots of them. Indulge me a rare moment of candidness. I am awfully proud of myself for not letting him down.

Yesterday we rallied for a perfect Tallahassee experience. S’quatch delivered directions to the sinkholes which I often fail to locate, and while the work phone rang and rang at home, we floated in frosty comfort beneath a humid blanket of sunny green oaks and pines.

Later that evening it was front row seats and backstage passes to the air show on campus, but I have to wait for Bushy’s pictures before I get into that.

We will keep the lamps trimmed and burning Todd, and it was great to have you home.


8 Responses to The Hot-house Flower

  1. Is that the same sinkhole where Darin (not his real name) dislocated a rib and the three wild-eyed gas huffin roofers gave us “ride” back to the parking lot?

    Even if’n it ain’t, it’s close enough for me to remember it all!


  2. Those sinkholes appear so mystical. I love the trees (cypress?) with the spanish moss and the gigantic trunks.

  3. Hello there. Well, I have been riding my Surly around and have had some great moments, but I was wondering if you had heard of any good rides out here in Quincy or if you could locate some maps for me. I rode a whole day out at Lake Talquin, but those trails are more like a spider evasion tract than any other kind of practice, which at least helped me learn how to clip out very very quickly. I’d appreciate any help you might be able to give. Thanks, Jackie