It’s Such a Perfect Day
I’m glad I shared it with you.
We rode heavy bikes with racks and mostly permanent fenders.
We wore old jerseys and carried too many cameras.
We found our friend, Mike Davis, and followed his wheel. Then he followed ours.
We climbed and descended (Davis goes downhill at breathtaking rates).
I met Art, who reads my column in the newspaper. He climbs at a surprising clip for a man in his 70s.
Art said, “I love you! You keep doing what you’re doing, Heidi Swift.”
A little part of realized that I need to hear that sometimes. A little validation goes a long way.
We stopped at a city park and ate cookies.
We stopped a school and ate a sandwich.
We stopped at a winery and ate a cupcake.
At the end of the day, we went to a community center where Chris King staffers turned into restauranteers and served up a dinner to behold.
I took a picture of King behind a wok. Under the tents where they were cooking, the temperatures must have been in the triple digits.
People ran to and fro (chicken shit crazy as my dad would say) but back in the dining room, everything went smoothly.
I drank wine.
You drank beer.
Art and I chatted and marveled at how we were able to fit dessert into our bellies, even when it seemed impossible.
You let me fall asleep in the passenger’s seat on the way home.
I dreamed of sunny farm roads and blueberry stands.
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