I was shuffling about last Friday slowly getting myself in gear to hook the trailer to the reborn Black Sheep Weirdlinger and take the infink downtown to secure some breakfast burritos. As I sort of halfheartedly organized the biking apparatus and waited for the big girl infink, opinionated and sure, to grace myself with her presence, I noted that it was 10:50. Alas, 10 minutes to get the 2.1 miles from the house to chiliworks and get the burritos before breakfast would be unserved. I resigned myself to no burritos, but a minute or two later, there had been no movement on the daughter front, I decided for an all out last minute solo dash to get the burritos. I hopped on the Weirdlinger and noted 10:53 on the cell and tore off in pursuit of the green chili goal.
Black Sheep Weirdlinger, she rolls
I sprinted hard around the neighborhood, through the school, across the big street, got caught at the light, hammered up past the theater, over past the pond, caught at the other big street for a bit, waiting to cross saw the 10:59 on the clock. Sprinted the final block, cornered hard into the parking lot right at 11:00.0000. Half skidded, half laid it down, half cyclocrossed off the bike to the tune of my pedals scraping across the sidewalk and right through the door of the burrito place. All the workers there look up as I burst through the open door and casually say, still serving breakfast?
Guy behind the counter says, sure, you are usually good until 11:30 buddy, 11:15 at worst. So I sheepishly get my burritos, pack em in the saddlebag, meander home and eat some green smeary goodness.