It's Three O'Clock Somewhere...

Two weeks in a row I managed to make the 3:00 ride from YJ's. What a fun group, I wish I could make it more often.





I've marveled more than once that God made Corinna and me, that this was exactly how He chose to speak to me when all else failed.





But I was also struck by how Jevon and his girlfriend were two peas from the same factory-second pod. I picture someone wishing they could just meet a fast cyclist who disdains helmets and even cycling gloves; who smokes hand-rolled cigarettes and thinks it's funny when they get trash-juice on their hoodie.




That's not a slam. Before I met the Poet Laureate, I'd have been bitterly jealous of a couple like this, thinking why can't I find another freak from my show?



Having gotten a couple more Three O'Clock rides in, I can't say I recommend a concussion and broken fingers immediately before one.



We saw kayakers off Kaw Point.



Also at Kaw Point, we saw a guy fishing, and after he hauled an enormous bass to shore, I thought he was about to throw it back. I always think Don't do it! I never catch much when I try to fish, and the idea of throwing something back that would be worth eating seems like buying a drink for a woman and not sticking around to chat her up.



But no, he was adding this fish to a stringer and heading for home. Four hours, he said, and he had caught more fish in weight than I have in my entire life. Maybe I'm giving away the location of a great fishing spot, but if I ever decide to try snagging my lures on a river bank again, I think I'll try Kaw Point.



We visited the Worldwide Ultraglobal International Top Secret Superheadquarters, too.





I found a foot. Well, part of a foot, in a curious pile of dumping. Arlo Guthrie's bit about how we found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half a ton of garbage, well, at the bottom of this half ton was a busted up printed circuit board, a plastic half foot with gnarly toenails and varicose veins, and Polaroid pictures from a wedding.








It's funny, when we rolled into certain parking lots, the rent-a-cops went on high alert even though we were just passing through to a public park. I'm not sure what they were afraid we would do, exactly, but they weren't going to let us out of their sight.



I saw a sign I wanted to take a picture of and peeled off to do so, and one other rider followed me and as I looked over my shoulder, I saw a Keystone Kops moment in which the goombah in the security car didn't know which way to go.



I'll grant you, we're an unaccountable looking lot, but surely it's obvious that we're benign. Right?



The Poet Laureate and I actually extended the ride into the Magic Hour and beyond.



We got fantastic photographs, made more private security personnel feel needed, were mistaken for cops (there's a paranoia symptom for you), and I don't know what-all.