Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner
Father, Son, Holy Ghost
King Ad Rock, MCA, Mike D
Duke, Mingus, Roach
Crosby, Stills, Nash
Bosh, Wade, James
Armstrong, Hincapie, Popovich
Bill, Larry, Juancho
Bill told us about pulling a bonked rider through the forest by a stick. I said nothing, but kept wishing for that stick.
He said he liked what Bruce Lee (Lei?) said, that he hoped he never reached his peak, because there’s nowhere to go but down from there.
Larry mused about watching people get napalmed on TV in 1969, and how tennis lessons did not help ameliorate that.
The forest was lovely, dark, and deep
and I hung all the way to Fisher Creek.
We saw Mike M along the way, and I wished again that I could stay.
Instead I rode along in silence, glad to be there, in defiance-
of my legs, my lungs, and pollen
voice of weakness again has fallen.
Robert Frost deserves better, but I’m just trying to say thanks. It’s not every day you get a private audience with two of the most respected men in town on two wheels. I felt better at the end than I did at the beginning, which is all I needed to keep me coming back.
This was very fine.