For I’ll arrive late tonight,
Blackbird, bye, bye. – Mort Dixon

Another 300 mile run today. Mind you, I’ve been taking breaks during these rides — it’s not all gas ‘n’ go, which is what I normally do when I’m on the road and trying to make time. It got up to 90F – rather mild for what I’ve been accustomed to in previous years. I was able to handle it well, old desert hand that I am. The secret – of many – is to keep everything covered, stay hydrated, and use the effects of transpiration to one’s advantage. It’s pretty basic stuff.

It has always amazed me to see other riders wearing wife-beaters in 90 and 100+ degree heat, beet-red from overexposure to the elements no matter how much sunscreen they’ve slathered over themselves.

“You must be hot dressed like that,” quoth the moron, as he/she/it glows red in the mid-day sun.

Well, of course I’m hot, you dumbass. I’m parked at a gas pump and sweating like a pig, just like you are. The difference is, when I’m back on the road, I’ll be cool as a cucumber.

But, yes, you do look oh so trendy in that sleeveless tee with the raw arms and face. I wish I could be like you – dumb as a box of hammers.

Not likely.