Slow Hustle

I ate so much at the Team Slow social, I thought my stomach might burst.  On my way home, I noticed the moon.  Climbing up the small rise of 52nd Avenue from Division, I felt energized.  Probably all the calories.

So, I u-turned, rode back down the hill to Hawthorne and bombed down to the food carts at 12th.  Some folk were meeting there for an impromptu Werewolf Hustle and I couldn't resist.

Five of us rode off together into the cold fog.  The leader, a girl I know only from facebook, and who told me she is no longer on facebook.  Another dude, wearing a werewolf hood.  Another guy, on a big fat-tired bike.  And a pretty young girl with long blonde hair who just tripped out of the pages of Cute Co-Ed magazine.

A mere few blocks from our start, we were stopped by a train.  We waited on the street parallel while it rushed by, blowing its whistle so loud one wonders how the conductors bear it.  Just as the long haul came to an end, another one came from the other direction.  We debated going around until the last train was over.

Heading south on the Springwater trail, the clear sky showed us its full moon.  I avoid this stretch of bike path in the dark, so it was a treat to ride it in the safety of the pack.  We rode and raced and howled and coasted.