Usually, I don’t mind riding around in thunderstorms. As long as I’m kind of in town. I feel safe huddled in amongst the buildings and trees and stuff. Maybe it’s still dangerous, but it doesn’t feel that way.
What I don’t like is that little stretch of trail between Culver’s and Harrison, which is part of my ride home route. Out in the open, no trees, no buildings, just my helmet and big, huge power line pole structure things.
There was a bunch of lightning to the west. It was weird to watch. There would be like a certain path a bolt would take repeatedly. Like 5 or 6 times. It would stop for a few seconds, then 5 more. As I was riding, it was getting more to the north, and coming closer to me (east).
I was saying things like “I don’t suppose you could get me home safe, what with all the atheism and everything, could you?”
Then I realized the saying about no atheists in foxholes doesn’t apply in thunderstorms. If you’re not right with “The lord god almighty, hallowed be s/his name”, the last thing you want to do is strike up a conversation when the lightning starts getting thrown around. Low profile. That’s what you’re looking for. Don’t mind me pops, I’m probably some sort of optical illusion that looks like a cyclist foolish enough to be taking a spin on a remote trail in the middle of an f’in t-storm.
I was actually thinking how glad I was that I hadn’t boasted to anyone about the 4 dollars I saved that day in gas. I guess I was thinking if I died, I’d hate to think of people laughing, going “Ooh 4 dollars!” “Well you’re dead now, aren’t you miser boy! Maybe you can use that 4 bucks to get across the Styx.”
So yeah I made it home OK. When I got to the door of my house, however, Jack was waiting for me. “You’re wet,” he said.
“Yes, it’s raining”
“yes”
“yes I think perhaps you should come inside.”
“yes”
Oh, did I mention we live in some kind of a hunting lodge for rich weirdos.
Anyway we did the time warp and ate meatloaf. All in all a good night.
Thanks god.
7 comments:
Well Hot Patootie, bless my soul. I really love that bur-ri-to.
Ok, enough of the Rocky Horror Show. I miss doing that show every Halloween. It was a crazy good time. All kinds of freaks would show up and have fun. Yup, that was some heathenistic party times.
There used to be a hole in the Lake Zorinsky footpath where a guy guy hit by lightning (and died) a few years ago. I shudder to think what size hole would be left if your roadbike of unusual size got hit.
Hey you aught to come to church with us sometime. Thunderbolts and lightning is nothing compared to the worship service at our church.
I'd go to your church. But It'll have to be because someone I owe a favor to is getting married there not during football season.
What church? That's the churchgoer equivalent of "what club did you use on that shot?", I know - but I'm curious. It's not that one Tom Cruise one is it?
Glad Tidings at 78th and Hickory. Sunday services are at 9AM and 11:00 for the Shabbos+1 riders.
Oh yeah, that's right. Back in the day, The church I used to go to always got into rumbles with the church you go to. The people from Glad Tidings always said the people from Word Outreach were snobs. The People from Word outreach always said the people from glad tidings were beneath them. So much so, that if someone from Glad tidings came into Word outreach, we'd tell them to come up front and get a good seat. Man, that always got their goat. Burn!!
A guy got struck by lighting and killed on the Keystone right next to the McDonalds on Dodge Street on a early evening ride a few years back. If you watch you'll always see me do the sign of the cross (Sastre copies me)when I ride by that spot. Please use caution Cube, your a treasure we can't afford to loose.
Amen. I was riding home that night. I was on the trail about 2 miles south of there when that happened. I get off the trail at aksarben to go home, so I didn't go by the spot, but yeah when I got home, my dad called me and asked me what color my bike was. When I told him it was white, he was relieved because the guy who got killed was reportedly on a red bike. Dad was a truck driver.
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