I did not care that my car told me it was 97 degrees outside. As I sat in my office all day today, next to a space heater that was turned on (remember, I work next to a very cold wine cellar), all I could think of was getting on my bike. It has been nine days since I have ridden and I was antsy. I watched the clock. It stood still.
I haven’t been on the bike due to a chest cold, or bronchitis or whatever it is that sends your otherwise healthy set of lungs on a vacation to hell. If you are a friend to me on Facebook or have read any of my blogs the past few days, then you know this. I’m still not feeling 100%, but I thought well enough today to go for a short ride. I have a friend that would probably disagree after hearing my voice and listening to me cough on the phone last night. I sort of like the husky, sexy quality that a chest cold brings to my voice, but last night’s voice went beyond. Tom Waits was more like it.
(Take a break and enjoy Tom Waits).
Not to be deterred, I went for a ride. Me and Scotty. Scotty is the name of my bike. My bike is a SCOTT, hence the name Scotty. Gee, I wonder how many other Scottys are out there. I’m so original. But that’s what I started calling him when he moved in, and that’s what he looks like to me, so I’m not changing it.
I had Stomacher’s new album on my iPod. I was a mostly happy girl. It was damn hot! More water ended up on my head than down my throat. Still it was great, and since I decided not to push it today, I stopped for a couple photos along the way so you will know that not only was Scotty willing to be the subject of my blog today, I also live in wine country paradise.