Surely I do not need to check the air pressure on my bike tires anymore. It’s the tail end of October. Next week is November. I’m not happy on the bike when it’s cold. The wind cuts through everything. The lake path is murderous. At that point, I prefer the bus.
And yet, this morning, I check the air. Low. I pump it up to 125 where it belongs. And I set out. It may be the last time this year. The last time under this administration. The last time before Spring.
I zip by the playing fields. Onto the lakeshore path. Past the plaid coated figure. So Fall.
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...and past the morning emptiness of the Union Terrace.
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On Bascom Mall – pumpkins. Hi, jack-o-lanterns.
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And then, toward evening, it is the reverse. Bye, jack-o-lanterns. And pink toned sky over the Capitol.
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I pass bikers coming back from band practice. I pass the barns and silos next to our agricultural school.
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Warm. I’m warm. Amazing. Sun’s gone, it’s the end of October and I have to unbutton my coat.
At home, I lock up my bike, thinking that I may not touch it again until 09. Weird, isn’t it?