After spending the last couple of weeks in the relentless pursuit of a decent used car, by Friday afternoon I was ready to pull out my hair and dance in the streets. (Or something like that.) Frustrated enough to spit, I decided to head down to the Morrisville trail complex to get in some good fat tire therapy. I haven't ridden since Sunday, and the tomato sauce on my frozen pizza for dinner is currently counting as a square meal, but I knew that I'd feel better if I could just summon the energy to turn the pedals for an hour or so.
My little Ferrous didn't disappoint. I hit the newer bandit trail near Crabtree, then hopped across the road to do a fast lap of the Crab. I rolled a few times around my ol' favorite the pump track, but after a couple of bumps I was purty wore out: I would never have thought that such a short loop could slap me around so much. As I spun my way toward evening it was just me and the (rather angry) squirrels in the woods. The trees are in full leaf now, so I lost track of the trail around the time the sun went down, but when I hung up ol' faithful I was ninety minutes closer to sanity.
Not only should bike shops have a test loop, I've now decided that used car dealerships would be doing everyone (or at least me) a great service if they had someplace you could go sweat between decisions about option packages and annual percentage rates. I don't know whether or not it would help them sell any more cars, but I might not feel so icky at the end of the day.
Still, my quick outing meant that the ol' Pathfinder got to carry around her two-wheeled accomplice one more time, which was good for all involved. And now I'll be able to go to sleep a little less crazy over overhead cams and miles per gallon. Thanks dirt!
