Heating Oil

I got excited when I heard that the weather was going to start out at 40 degrees. Trying to layoff the heavy duty Lycra until the weather dips into the 20’s. With wind-chill, the temp is still around 35 degrees which will still cause the nipples to harden and the genitals to shrivel, but all in all won’t be too uncomfortable. I splash some heating oil and hit the road.

I try to stay in my little ring for as long as I can stand it. Higher cadences help to stoke the engine. Get a nice rhythm going and spin all day. I went with a lighter glove. Not smart. Actually quite dumb, but I love the dexterity I have not wearing oven mitts.

I hit my favorite patch of road. Nice and flat and I get to see my favorite crossing guard Jerry and a mom who walks a mile lap after dropping her kids off at school and always waves. My morning just seems to be a little better when I see these cogs of my commute. I’m not quite warm, but I catch a glimpse of a truck behind me rolling at about 20mph. I start to build speed about 10 minutes ahead of the time, when I usually start to build speed in an attempt to draft the truck for a couple of blocks. I got burned, for my opportune nature. The truck put on it’s blinker almost immediately. The recovery I had planned on while sucking Ford was not to be. Back into the small ring. The heating oil I use is now fully active. Now I’m boiling where I like to simmer on my commute. Can’t vent, because that’s a cold waiting to happen, so I continue to swelter on a 30 degree day.

I pull into the Dunkin Donuts by my office for cup #3 of coffee. A guy says good morning to me and asks about the weather. That segue’s into talking about cycling, knee replacement options and the healthcare disparities in the world. I was waiting for a Lance Armstrong question. I’ve been asked my feelings on him so much that I want to hire a public relations agent to address any further questions. I bid ado to Randy the retired sheriff and hump the hill to work.

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