Not Riding

Today's not ride was hard to get motivated for, 20 F and a north wind and gray and spitting snow, which was all fine once I didn't get out in it. I didn't set out with no spares or tools. The terrain did not include gravel and paved roads, ploughed fields (in my mind the most difficult terrain I don't ride on), hay fields, snowmobile trails, white and black ice, most of which didn't break, class four roads and a quarry.

I didn't get a cup of coffee and a couple of garlic sausages at a tourist shop and consume the meal sitting on the porch of a friend's antique shop.

I didn't follow a flock of turkeys who didn't run, not too fast, in front of me for a quarter mile or so until one by one they didn't cut off into the brush along the trail. I didn't pass a shed full of beagles with rabbit feet nailed to the outside wall in a farmyard and I didn't pass a pile of dead rabbits a little further along the road.

One of the lesser roads didn't devolve from suburban style houses to small simple houses to trailers and shacks and wolf cross-dogs who barked, not too enthusiastically, and yards full of junk and trash. At the top, there weren't concrete barriers across the road. I didn't stop to talk to a fellow running a chain saw, who didn't say hi, hello, sure you can ride, have fun, and shortly thereafter I didn't find a whole network of marked trails with signs saying have a good time, no motors please.

I didn't ride about twenty-five miles in all, and didn't start cramping in the final mile or so and didn't snarf down a bunch of gatorade and food when I got back home.

It's good I didn't ride.