I had a mission this morning.
it was recovery ride day, and I lay in bed last night thinking about the morning ride, chanting to myself, don't forget the camera.
I didn't forget the camera.
I had to rearrange my bike bag, though, putting my spare tube and cartridges in my little bento box up front, so that my not-so-petite camera could have the back bag to itself.
my mission: to document something I'd seen last week while I was riding.
or something I thought I'd seen while riding.
because this is what happens to me: I'll be riding along, looking around, here and there, taking it all in, and sometimes making up stories about what I saw. I'll have gone past something before it really registers, and next thing I know I'm questioning the veracity of my eye-mind connection. was that really a giant bug, or just a wrinkled candy wrapper? was that a bunny's tail, or just a torn piece of a plastic bag caught on a weed?
or last week's query:
were those letters written in the road with asphalt crack-repair goop or was that just my imagination?
today, I returned to that spot on 39th south to see if I had made it all up, or if I had really seen a word written in a thin black ribbon of shiny black repair goop.
my eyes did not lie, and my brain truly did comprehend the truth as I flew by this spot, and here, today, is proof that some people are absolutely artists with asphalt.
or at least with asphalt repair.
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