Saturday's bike ride caused a bit of heat over diner plans. Our companions like to eat early, like 5:30ish. I like to go late, more like 7:30ish. I figure on Saturday I can accomodate without a problem. This week however, Brandon and I got a late start and I was at the furthest point on the ride from home when wifey called.
"Where are you?"
"Near Glen's house in Dartmouth". I responded.
"What about dinner, it's 4:30 now".
My computer showed 3:30, still on Daylight Savings Time. It also showed that we were 16 miles from home. I told my riding partner we had to make like the wind and hammer home. We blasted through a few stop signs and traffic lights to pick up some time. We took a couple of shortcuts through the side streets of New Bedford and at one point hooked a left at a red light which really pissed off some kids in an old Oldsmobile. A loud unfriendly blare of the horn, which prompted a friendly wave, smile and thanks in return. That got me a "you fuck" from the passenger, to which my partner yelled, "suck my dick". Ahhhh, city riding.
We made real good time and as we approached the bridge over the harbor the light had changed and the gates closed. We sped up to them, scooted under the gate, scurried across the bride and under the gates on the other side. The bridge tender never had a chance. he he.
When I got to the house wifey was downstairs doing something or other. I did a quick change and and at 5:10, was standing at the door dressed for dinner when she came upstairs.
"You ready", I inquired
"I already changed the reservations till 6".
"OK, I'll shower then".
The up side of this is that I don't care for the originaly restaurant and the change in time also forced us to change restaurants. It also brought us to the center of New Bedford where the "half way to St. Patrick's Day festival" was going on.
Gotta love the Irish.
We ended up with a 25 mile ride on Saturday. Sunday we saddled up again for a 17 mile spin, but nothing nearly as exciting happened.